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mggslover · 3 months ago

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Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

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ningvory · 5 months ago

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SCREAM - jang wonyoung

1,740 words // yall i wanted to do kinktober sooo baddd but im so outta ideas and school and work has been draining😔 so instead i'll just write 2-3 more halloween themed fics

CW: noncon -> dubcon, ghostface!wonyoung, big dick wony, bully!reader, a little knife play, choking, backshots, doggy, missionary, a little tit play, mentions of reader getting impregnated, squirting, not proofread lolz

its about 11pm on a friday, 'means girls' is playing on your living room tv while you were in the kitchen searching for a pot to put your noodles in. your parents left for their business trip to wherever, you weren't really paying attention after they mentioned you'll be alone for two weeks and that you had a spending allowance of 5k, which is why you were wearing your new black lingerie set under your fuzzy pink robe.

you were humming a song as you head to the pantry to get a bottle of water to fill the pot with until you heard your phone ringtone go off. you went to mute the tv and grabbed your phone, tapping the answer button. you held the phone up to your ear but you're met with silence.

"hello?~" you questioned, dragging out the word. it was a habit of yours when you were annoyed,

"didn't think you'd pick up." the voice was cheerful, too cheerful to the point where it had you furrow your eyebrows trying figure out who's calling you at this time.

"well, i did. so.." you responded with a little bit of attitude. you were starving and here this stranger is playing on your phone. "listen, who the hell are you and what do you want?" you raise your voice a octave.

"your tits look good in that bra, wish i can see the way your ass looks in the panties." you furrow your eyebrows once more. every window was locked and your curtains blocked any prying eyes from seeing inside.

"um—you must've gotten the wrong number or something. i'm hanging up now." you smile half heartedly, trying to wrap things up, whoever this girl is can probably hear your labored breathing.

"hang up this fuckin' phone and i’m killing you myself!" she quickly responded, you froze immediately. especially after hearing some sort of bang coming from upstairs, “not so tought without your friends here, hm y/n?"

you were assuming this was a silly halloween prank call but she knows you personally! she knows your friends and even your name—you can admit that you were a bitch to most people but you didn't think that someone would break in and kill you for it!

"w-what kinda joke is this? this isn’t funny!" you let out a nervous laugh. no way this is fucking real, this is just a prank, right?

the person lets out a hysterical laugh—almost like she’s gone crazy. "you think this is a joke? was it a joke when you make every single day a living hell for me?" she asked but you remained silent, "now you wanna act like a scared little girl? don't you think its time to get what you deserve?" she asks.

the amount of people you’ve been a bitch too, its hard to guess who this person was. the fact that this persons voice was low and raspy to the point where you couldn’t even identify who’s voice this is didn’t help you either.

"i think we should play a game. i’d advice you listen, if you want to live that is." you can hear her smiling through the phone.

your heart is racing now, you have a gut feeling that this person is in the big ass house somewhere and that promise of her killing you is haunting you.

"fine. what's this game?" you try to put on that tough façade, still holding onto your pride.

"go upstairs. into your room." she commands you and you hate it but all you can do now is obey her words.

you grip your phone tighter and walk up the stairs—just like she said. you walk into your room. your pink led illuminated the room.

"good girl~ now, strip." her praise breaks the silence.

"what?" you whispered in disbelief.

"you heard me, don't make me do it for you."

you sigh, you really aren't sure why she wants you to strip for her. maybe to humiliate you on the internet on something but you comply to her demand, untying your robe and letting it drop to the floor. you stand, praying that’s all she meant when she said strip.

"do you not know what strip mean, bitch?" she questions, noticing that you're just standing there.

you stay silent, tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you let out a whimper, “why? are you some kinda sick pervert?” you demand, looking around the room.

it was silent for a while, it was like she hung up the phone on you. your heart was racing, you were getting anxious, “hello! where are you!? who are you!?” you cry out.

as soon as you asked that your closet door opened, revealing a figure dressed up like ghostface charging right at you. you let out a loud scream, backing up into the wall but the figure used that to her advantage, her long hands engulfed your neck, pushing your head into the wall and tightening the grip, forcing a strangled whine to fall from your mouth as you gasp for air desperately.

tears began to fall from your cheeks, your hands came up to hold her wrists before hitting them, desperately trying to pry them off your neck. she swiftly slapped you right across your face and manhandled your frail body on your bed, choked whines coming from you in the process.

“you look so cute like this, crying and at my mercy.” her tall body straddled yours, under her coat and her skirt, you can feel her bulge on your tummy. no way she’s hard from this.

if you were gonna die like this you might as well see who this sicko is, you removed your hands from the hands that were on your neck and you reached up to the ghost mask, removing it from their head. your eyes widen when you realized who it was. wonyoung.

her soulless eyes looked down at yours, a smile slowly found its way onto her face which made shivers run down your spine. she removed her grip on your neck, but still remained ontop of you.

you inhaled air almost immediately, trying to catch your breath before you can question the girl. but before you could even speak, she held a butcher knife right under your chin, “don’t scream or move.” she spoke menacingly.

“since you can’t seem to follow orders i’ll force you to,” she sighs. she starts to slowly move her knife down to your shaking body. the metal causing goosebumps to awake on your body. she trailed down until she got to your bra, she easily sliced it in half with her knife. “hey! i just bought this!” you spat, your first time wearing this set and it’s already ruined? this really isn’t your night.

“shut up, whore.” she’s quick to bring the knife back to your neck, pressing down on it but not enough to draw blood.

your bottom lips quivers which makes her coo before she gets off your tummy and flips your body over. you yelp in surprise with how easy she’s moving your body.

before you can complain she’s pushing your head into the sheets and placing the palm of her hand to your back, forcing you to arch your ass up in the air. to position muffled anything that you might’ve said and you felt your heart drop when you feel her bulge prodding against your ass.

wonyoung slices your panties as well before placing the knife in her mask. she pulls her boxers down along with her miniskirt. she giggles as she hovers over you of you, large hands pinning yours to the bed before she leans into your ear with a wicked grin.

“i’m going to make you scream.”

“w-wait!” you quickly retort squirming under her iron grip.

she wastes no time before she pushes her cock deep inside your virgin cunt.

it was like the wind got knocked out of you. you can't even make a sound, all you can concentrate on is the burn on your hole being stretched out. she had just pushed in and her cock is already kissing at your cervix, just how big is this girls cock?

wonyoung harshly gripped your hips and pulled out until her cock head was the only length left inside you before violently thrusting forward, letting out a long groan at the satisfaction. her hands left your back to grab your wrists to hold them behind your back, and forcefully yanking you back down onto her cock. she wasn't letting you get out of this anytime soon.

she was using your body like you were her human sized sex doll. drool was running down your chin and down to the valley of your tits and your eyes were crossed over, "for someone that hasn't taken a real dick before--you take it like a cock drunk whore." wonyoung muttered loud enough for you to hear. if you hadn't been too busy cryin' n moanin' on her dick, you would've made a snarky comeback.

she's never heard your voice become this high-pitched but she wasn't complaining, "s-so big! y-you're gonna break me!!" you whined through your tears.

"and you're gonna keep taking it all in your little cunt. even after i impregnate you." wonyoung quickly agreed to your statement, shooting three spurts of cum into your cunt.

you thought she'd be done but her hips never stopped smacking into yours, instead, she flipped you over into missionary. she swiftly picked up your left leg, placing it on her shoulder to reach a deep angle.

she continued to drill into your cum-stuffed pussy, her cock heavily throbbing inside you due to just seeing the lewd sight below her, "like being fucked by a killer, gonna cum all over me?"

"uh-huhh~" your eyes rolled back and your body began to shake. she took one of you tits that's bouncing with her thrust into your mouth, earning a loud moan from you. you suddenly felt a little funny, almost like you had to pee? your body soon went limp before you let out a whiny moan, squirting all over her dick and pelvis.

"at first i was just gonna fuck you and then kill her." she pulls out of your sloppy pussy and grabbed her knife. you flinch at these words, a bit terrified of what was gonna happen next, "but i think i'll make you my cute cock sleeve."

#♡.wonyoung #♡.ive #ive x fem reader #ive wonyoung smut #wlw smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #ive smut #kpop smut #g!p

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ybklix · 8 months ago

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backseat

★ pairing: drunk-needy!han jisung x fem!reader

✦summary: Han doesn’t handle alcohol well, he always ends up doing something he can’t remember or embarrassing that he regrets. This time he starts teasing you, whimpering in need of your touch in the back seat of your other friend’s car after a night out at the club.

☆ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, mention of wet dream, teasing, clit play, very slightly somnophilia, (implied consent), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex.

word count: 3.3k

masterlist - taglist

a/n: han jisung lately. that's it. he has me barking fr, read this while i work on a little more elaborated han fic requested, anon if u reading, wip luv u

dividers by dollywons

“Can you guys stop treating me like your fucking personal uber driver or something?” said Changbin amused but a little annoyed once you and Han got into the backseat of his car.

Changbin turned his body to see how clumsy you both got into his car.

“Sorry, sorry, Hannie got a little drunk, and he's the one who called you anyways, I was for sure gonna order a more kind uber driver” you replied, putting the safety belt on your drunk friend.

“Heeey man, what’s up” greeted Han to Changbin, completely wasted.

“Ha, ha, so funny. It's late and you know Jisung doesn't take alcohol well” replied Changbin, starting the car and looking at Han.

“Well, he's fucking 23, he can drink…” you argued.

“Yeah, but next time do it at home so you couple of babies who can't drink outside don't have the need to call me.”

“I thought I called Ch-chan” Han interrupted.

“We wouldn't have drank alone if you guys replied to the group chat I literally said-”

You were also drunk, not drunker than Jisung, but tipsy, speaking with difficulty and slurring your words, ready to fight.

“Shhh… why are you fighting, what's all that yelling, goshh, let me take my nap” Han spoke, dragging out his words because he was drunk, his heavy and loose body leaning on you.

“Oh the baby wants to sleep?” spoke Changbin in a baby voice, “you know what, fuck you Han, I was fucking a hot girl when you called” replied Changbin more annoyed, teasing him, and turning up the volume of the song he had in his car.

“Can you turn off the volume pleaseee?” whined Han.

“No” replied Changbin, turning the volume up a little more.

Han whined like a little boy, you said nothing and leaned your head back on the seat, when suddenly your friend's heavy body fell on you again, this time with his puffy cheek resting on your exposed breasts by your cleavage, from which you got a little upset; you wanted to move him, but he started moaning, you saw him, his mouth slightly open, his cheek squashed on your chest and his eyes closed, you thought he was asleep, one of the more reasons why he was so heavy and weak.

“Ji-jisung” you called his name in a soft whisper, stirring your shoulder a little to wake him up.

However it was impossible, the music was moderately loud. You started to stress as he was letting himself lean on you, you were about to move more roughly again and call his name when you hear soft whimpers come from his lips, mumbling your name.

“Y/n…” whimpered Han.

You frowned, thinking to yourself that he was somewhere between asleep and awake and was indeed somewhat conscious.

“Jis-”

“Mmm, Y/n don't stop, please” he mumbled again, whining in a slightly strange tone.

“What?” you said in confusion but he didn't respond and still had his eyes closed and his cheek pressed to his chest.

“Oh, fuuck” he sighed heavily.

That last one gave you chills, it had come from deep inside him and it had sounded so good, you were a little too drunk to think, still you magically came back to your senses… thinking about his moans sounding a little sexual, arousing a hint of excitement in you, making your nipples hard, but you didn't understand, you didn't know if he was playing or if he was really asleep, but somehow, his constant panting near you immobilized you, making your pussy throb.

You came out of your trance in seconds, you watched him, he really seemed to be asleep, you knew Han so well that you knew perfectly what his expression was when he was completely in a sleep state. But he kept whimpering softly, to which you deduced, he was dreaming and you finally connected the dots, as he was panting like that, it was a wet dream… if you had been soberer you would have laughed intensely, poor Hannie all needy to have a wet dream, after all you were friends… but you wanted to blame the alcohol for reacting aroused, for the closeness of his handsome face leaning on your breasts and… because he was babbling your name in his soft but deep voice… He looked so good near you that you felt bad because he was asleep and unintentionally, the car passing by a lighted area, so much as to illuminate the inside of Changbin's car, you realized that your friend had an erection in his pants.

That was enough, the alcohol was gone from your system and you were not going to tolerate that behavior, more from you, feeling all turned on by your best friend, when you yourself made it a rule to feel nothing but friendship for any of the 8 attractive men that were part of your life.

“Han” you stirred abruptly, heart racing, nervous and guilty for feeling horny.

He woke up, a little scared and shaken, confused looking around not even knowing where he was. And as he woke up he saw you, and remembered his very vivid little dream where he was fucking you in his room, you saw him and you were slightly with your cheeks red and he immediately felt his penis was hard.

“Ah, Y/n, I'm really sorry, I fell asleep” he said apologetically, nervously, still with the effect of the alcohol in his system.

You didn't know what to say, the car was dark anyway, so Jisung distanced himself a bit from you, but the poor guy was a bit too drunk to distinguish or remember if what he dreamed he imagined or happened at some point, he only knew that his cock was aching from being locked in his jeans and that he wanted to get it taken care of as soon as possible, the worst, was that when he got horny-drunk, his feelings of sexual appetite were more intense and he didn't know how to put out the fire inside him. Jisung tried to look out the window, but the constant motion of the car and the view made him more dizzy and confused. And it was there… when his mind started to play a bad trick on him again, his brain betrayed him, he wasn't the shy and serious Jisung, he didn't know anything about his surroundings, he only knew what he felt and he felt in fucking heaven all spinning around, but at the same time his cock was throbbing and pulsating. It was there, when he no longer knew how to distinguish, and acted merely because of the effect of the noxious substance in his body.

He was about to say and do something that he would not remember for a few long hours when he awoke from his deep post-drunken sleep.

Jisung turned his sight, which was moving as he was drunk, but he managed to distinguish your silhouette, with that dangerous dress you decided to wear tonight, provoking him by seeing you without ingesting any drop of alcohol, provoking him now too. You were still, petrified and incredibly aroused at all the thoughts going through your mind with Jisung, you wanted to stop them, but your pussy was throbbing and your panties were already wet, you hated being a little drunk, you got incredibly wet the slightest thing, that's why none of the guys played along when you invited them to the club, because you would surely end up drunk kissing a stranger, begging for more, that's why the eight of them looked out for you a little.

He finally approached you, sure of himself, with steady movements and hardly awkward at all.

“Hey, Y/n, I must admit you look beautiful today” he whispered in your ear, your skin bristled, he didn't sound drunk at all, and you wondered how the fuck he could be so good including that, “Fuck, you actually look so fucking good every day and I'll be quick and honest, I haven't stopped thinking about you for a second… to the point where…” he laughed softly, “shit, I'm so fucking hard, would you touch me?”

Every word quickened your heart, you knew it was Drunk Han by the boldness and flirting, he flirted often when he got tipsy, but he had never asked for such a thing; you opened your eyes and swallowing saliva, you looked down at his erection… in the last few minutes you had fantasized about his cock as much as you never did in their years of friendship, why now, why, why, you wondered, you didn't want to, you ignored him, treating him crazy, knowing he wouldn't remember anything anyway, wouldn't remember that you didn't want to touch him, just because you wanted to convince yourself not to, not to cross that line, but your insides burned, wanting his cock to be buried in your wet pussy, sliding down your puffy walls.

“Please, please do it, touch me please, I need you” he begged as you had never heard him beg before.

Finally, you turned to look at him, your heart pounding, you watched his big round eyes, all of him, poorly lighted for the dark night, still you distinguished the gleam in his eyes, begging you, so needy it made your pussy lubricate more. You moved closer to his ear, not sure he can be conscious of formulating a good answer and said:

“How do you want me to touch you if we are in Changbin's car?”

“Just do it like this” he quickly replied, taking your wrist to direct your hand to his cock.

Another prick in your pussy, he was hard, so hard you could feel through his pants, Han moaned, enjoying the sudden friction and pressure of something on his cock, finally. You weren't sure whether to continue, but you thought fuck it all, it felt so good, along with Han's sweet, soft moans getting lost amidst the loud music of Changbin's car.

You bit your lip and continued, you stretched out your whole hand, pressing and feeling his whole erect member on the fabric of his pants, you squeezed and stroked it, your insides on fire, wanting to get on top of him rubbing yourself until you cum, but your mission was to make him cum, every part of your body trembled with excitement and sexual desire, never taking your eyes off Jisung, and your hand on his erection, he never shut up, you never thought your little friend would be so vocal about being sexually pleasured, you never thought of him sexually to begin with. Jisung cum in his underwear as he enjoyed every second of your hand stroking his cock, he cum so well that he let out a loud, muffled whimper that got Changbin worried.

You were barely smiling with satisfaction, when Changbin turned down the volume of the music and said, “Did you guys say something?”

You denied quickly and innocently, as if he could see you in the gloom, guiltily, like a small child who was about to be discovered playing a prank.

“No” you replied.

Han was catching his breath, unable to think of anything else but his orgasm and the feel of his penis somewhat sticky from his freshly ejaculated semen.

“Mmm, okay” Changbin added, “will you stay at Han's place or do you want me to drop you off at yours… although it would be better for me if you stay with Han, I'm almost there…”

Oh no, you thought, how were you supposed to go with Han, you wanted to go to your place and forget about the heat of the moment, but Han stepped forward to say, almost breathlessly:

“She'll stay at mine.”

“Fine” Changbin replied, turning up the music and leaving you no chance to argue your answer.

You noticed how Changbin was already pulling into the area of Han's apartment building and you felt so bad about touching Han in his car that you didn't even want to say anything else to him.

“Now let me help you” whispered Han in your ear.

His hand caressed your thigh and slowly went up while his face was still very close to yours; his hand reached your panties, making Jisung smile sideways.

“But what a naughty girl, you were seriously walking around only in your panties? Who do you think you are?”

You didn't answer and let yourself be carried away by his caresses on the fabric of your panties, gently stroking your folds, tickling you and bringing you to levels of desperation you never knew existed in your body. Han reached your clit, pressing it hard making you let out a soft squeal, he enjoyed it, the libido winning out over his drunken state and making his cock hard again, Han was so hungry to undress you, but even drunk, he knew he was with his other friend nearby. Finally, after torturing you by caressing you on the fabric, he found a way to pull the cloth away from your panties and finally stroke your bare and needy pussy, feeling his fingertips brush across your labia and refocusing on your very sensitive spot. You also returned to stroking and squeezing his erection, stimulating it. Han began to play with your clit, making you wet and causing you to tremble a little, you were so desperate that you would explode at any moment, you needed him filling your pussy, but for the moment his sweet, gentle and now and then slightly rough movements on your clit were enough to make you reach orgasm, closing your legs a little by reflex as you felt your fluids slipping from inside you. Han smiled, broadly, sliding your orgasm past your labia and ready to keep touching you; he was so close to his second orgasm, but you both felt Changbin's car pull up.

“We're here!” he announced, slightly happy to be getting rid of you for now.

You both took your hands off each other quickly and sheepishly thanked Changbin, getting out of his car and walking into the building where Han lived. You felt so embarrassed, every step you took you felt the sogginess of your vagina rubbing against your panties and Han had to go inside, watching his trusted employees, trying to hide his erection.

Once inside you waited for the elevator, Han staggering nervously and a little drunk, as you entered you realized you would be alone and, wasting no time, you pounced on him, savoring his sweet round lips, in passionate but agile kisses, tracing each other's body in desperation, feeling on your chin the slight roughness of his chin from his freshly shaved beard. You glued your body to his, feeling his erection, you had never felt this good, you were sure he would feel better than any other single guy you had ever slept with, he was your sweet and fun Han, you couldn't wait to jump on his cock once the elevator doors opened and took you straight to his apartment. And, finally there, Han awkwardly separated from you, quickly and abruptly undressing himself, causing you to tenderly giggle, you couldn't help but think he looked cute, but your smile was erased once he pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing his pink-tanned cock. You watched him closely, from his penis, moving your gaze upward running along his marked abs and pecs, you were dumbfounded, realizing that you were really fucking your friend. Your body heated up again and, before Han could say anything, you stripped off your dress and underwear.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Jisung couldn't believe if it was a dream, or if the alcohol truly worked magic, he never thought he was capable of getting past you with more than innocent glances and small compliments…. and now he was there, his cock throbbing at your naked image, he gasped and you had no choice but to get down on your knees to take his sensitive cock with its tip dripping his glistening precum, you wanted his cock everywhere on your body, hitting your face, between your tits, in your mouth, in your pussy, his cock was just as attractive as he was and you were sure it would fit perfectly in every nook and cranny of your core.

He looked down at you from above, expectant and incredibly aroused, you started stroking his cock, feeling every texture of his member, from his slippery pink tip to his balls, you smiled as you heard him moan, you stuck out your tongue, stimulating his glans to see him quiver and finally, you took his cock with your mouth, rubbing it in every corner of your cavity, savoring every inch of your sweet friend. Jisung grabbed your hair, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, unable to believe how he was still standing and not fading away, it had been a long time since he had been sexually pleasured, let alone in the wonderful way you were doing it now.

You sucked hard on his cock, your head in a steady motion and pace, fucking his cock with your mouth as he kept moaning and babbling your name, your pussy was soaking wet, you were begging for action and attention down there, your whole body screaming it, but you were so focused on the way Jisung's glans hit all the way to the bottom of your mouth with ease, his throbbing muscle colliding with your tongue and, after an internal struggle, Han cum in your mouth, causing him to whimper, feeling with immense relief, him savoring the orgasm and you his hot cum in your mouth, thinking that from that night maybe nothing would ever be the same again but you would fuck him so well anyway.

You stood up, moving closer to him and kissed him, blending his cum in your mouth, boldly touching his tongue, rubbing both your sexes, your breasts with your hard nipples and just bringing both your bodies together because of the closeness.

“C'mon, Hannie” you said smilingly, taking hold of his wrist and leading him to the couch in his living room, you were excited enough to go all the way to his room.

You pushed Han slightly so that he fell onto the couch and finally positioned yourself on top of his lap, taking his cock with one hand while leaning on his shoulder with the other, he looked so fucking good, his big eyes wide open, darker than usual, full of lust, his smoothly exercised body… you never thought he'd be the first of the eight you'd fuck first and there you were, settling his glans at your entrance and letting yourself fall slowly, sliding his erect cock into your wet insides as you so desired from the first hot whimper you heard come out of his mouth in that backseat. You let yourself fall all the way down, gasping at the sensation, his cock being hugged by your walls had him a mess, a very needy and horny one; you stirred your body on his cock, jerking your body, rubbing your dripping wet pussy on his testicles, enjoying feeling perfectly filled for a moment. Han couldn't help himself and grabbed your breasts, fondling and squeezing them, you knew Han was… a guy who enjoyed tits more than anything. And you moved, his rigid length sliding into your core, you moving to get the perfect penetration at your pace as he kept playing with your tits.

“Fuck, y-you feel so good, oh, my” gasped Jisung, unable to speak clearly, lost in the softness of your walls performing a series of steady, frenetic movements as you bit your lip, panting and in concentration.

You rested and pushed with your hands on his thighs, but you were both so close to orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and Han groaned as he felt your walls suffocate his cock more; you kissed him before accelerating your movements, jumping endlessly, exhilarated, quickening your orgasm, your whole body tensing until you released in your sweet climax, allowing your body to expel every sexual pressure built up, spilling your fluids on your friend's cock.

“Mmm, fuck, I'm gonna cum too” warned Han whimpering.

Han squeezed your breasts hard and cum inside you too.

You mumbled a small mmm as you felt all your insides wet, full and slippery, still with his cock inside you, you dropped your body on Han's shoulder, trying to calm your heart rate.

And who would have thought, all that happened and Jisung only had two drinks and one shot of tequila.

-----------------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89

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melioristicbeast · 29 days ago

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“Sorry,” Stiles said, unsure of why he was apologizing. “I’ve never heard that song before. Did you write it?” Derek looked uncomfortable, maybe a touch embarrassed, which was answer enough. “It’s good. I like it. It’s calming.” The small smile he got in response melted his heart a little bit. Fucking hell, he was so gone for this asshole. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do. He wished he’d never realized how much he loved him. Wished he’d just continued to think they were best friends and nothing more. It was slowly going to kill him being so close, and yet so fucking far. Clearing his throat, he brought the book back up to continue reading, muttering that Derek should keep playing. He did, his fingers plucking gently at the strings, filling the loft with soft music. It really was calming, and soothing. Stiles really liked it. He liked it even more when he realized Derek could honestly express himself with the guitar. It still wasn’t a voice, but it was something, at least.

Actions Speak Louder than Words (ch18) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

This fic is what spurred me to start doing sterek fanart back in the beginning of december - magic!stiles, cursed!derek, stiles/jackson terrifying everyone else as friends - an incredible 430K story with a completely endearing slow-burn and slowly unfolding exploration of the characters and their relationship, made complete with the perfect bow of cursed-mute-Derek because 'Derek's eyebrows have a language of their own but only Stiles is fluent' is my favorite and this author does it SO well. And gives Derek a guitar. Derek plays a guitar!!

Ella, consider this my loveletter to your works - they all, this one in particular, buoyed me through a tough time in my life and brought me back to a love of drawing that I haven't had in years and a fandom that has been so generous in their support of my silly art. Thank you for sharing your works!

And a huge thank you to everyone's support so far - the sweet comments in replies, the unhinged all-caps tags, yes-and'ing my silly ideas and headcanons, i'm just over here kicking my feet and giggling and definitely not getting teary-eyed over it no siree no lacrimal action happening here

#Teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fanart #fanart of fanfiction #isthatbloodonhisshirt #Actions speak louder than words #my art #but also #mel blabs #and my too much gene is showing but lbr at this point it's more of a too much genome #Except when it comes to drawing a guitar apparently #strings? having it look like it's tuned??#shh #i had to draw a line somewhere and it was drawn somewhere after the 9th redraw of stiles' face and 4th of derek's LOL

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yandere-romanticaa · 7 days ago

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𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔅𝔦𝔩𝔩.

❝ Rather be in Hell than alone. ❞ - sza.

This fic was inspired by the song Kill Bill by SZA.

yandere! modern au! phainon x fem! reader.

How did he get here?

The white haired man often asked himself that very same question for what seemed like ages now. Standing hidden away underneath the shadows like some crazed phantom became a nightly routine of his ever since his heart got shattered into a million pieces.

Phainon was popular, well liked and respected. He had a good life all things considered - a stable job, good friends and a lovely girl to come back home to.

With the realization that last bit was no longer the case, a sharp pang coursed through his chest. He watched your bedroom window closely, hands in his pockets as he noticed the fresh bouquet of flowers placed on your window. Fresh flowers from what he could tell, the pretty colours seemed to pop so cutely with the glow of the light coming from your living room and the wine red vase only added the blooms even more charm.

The same vase that he got you.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He can recall the sensation of the comfortable armchair as it creaked underneath his weight. The sound of the clock on the wall set him off as Phainon twirled with his thumbs, his gaze cascaded downwards as a heavy silence hung in the air. That silence would soon be a blissful past as it was soon broken by a gentle voice, a sad attempt at sounding compassionate.

"Phainon? It's alright to be upset, that is a natural reaction to such a messy break up."

The voice of his therapist echoed slightly in the overly white office, which only set him even more on edge. He grumbled in annoyance, cursing his meddling friends for forcing him to seek professional help instead of just letting his anger bubble inside him.

Besides, he was never angry for too long. His anger always comes and goes.

That's just the kind of guy he is.

Phainon snorted, a pained grin on his face, a pathetic attempt at trying to lighten the situation. "Sorry Doc, guess I just lost myself for a second there!"

From the corner of his eye, Phainon could see the worried looks his therapist was giving him. It was horrendously obvious that he was doing a poor job at trying to mask his concerns with that faux smile and the stench of his cheap cologne made him grateful for having a better sense of smell. His own was so much better, he figured. A truly childish thought in the grand scheme of things but he really could not be bothered to think like an adult at the moment.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tiny wine red ribbon hanging subtly on the Doctor's right hand, a stark contrast to his otherwise crisp and perfect exterior.

It didn't suit him whatsoever, Phainon thought flatly, his eyes still glued to his shoes.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

With a startle, Phainon realized that he was now standing in front of your door. His heart thumped in his chest, it made him wonder if he was going to die from cardiac arrest right then and there. All of the wonderful memories of his love came back to him, all of the sweetness he had soaked up only to lose it all in the end. It wasn't fair how much of an effect you had on him, even after all this time Phainon was still wholeheartedly yours.

And you did not want him. Not anymore.

He bit his lip, hard. The taste of blood filled his mouth as a few droplets of the thick liquid fell on his jet black hoodie, the dark material masking it.

This really was not his best idea.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

His hour was almost up. Huh. He figured he should be more ecstatic about that. The last hour felt like a century due to the incessant nagging of his therapist, who kept trying to get Phainon to open up. It was beyond clear that he was a rookie but he was trying, which just added insult to injury. It was fascinating how hard the man was trying to help him, how desperately he tried to offer up some solution to Phainon's sea of endless heartbreak.

None of which was working.

Looking back at the clock, Phainon strained his ears to see if there was perhaps someone else waiting in front of the good Doctor's door. Another lost soul seeking some sort of refuge, a comforting ear of someone who actually cared.

A true rarity in such a business, as he found out not too long ago.

He gritted his teeth as his ears picked up nothing. No sound of any eager on uneasy footsteps, not even a hint of a cough, the only sign of life was right here, in this white box he was stuck in.

... Perfect.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He did not even feel the thousands of splinters of the wooden door clinging to his skin as he broke into his old flame's apartment. He did not feel how the sticky fabric of his clothes clung to his being, thick sweat and something more heavy trying to weigh him down.

The only thing he could focus on was the shrill scream of the one he holds so dear.

He looked at his old flame and his eyes were suddenly brought back to life. Gone was the lifeless tint of grey in his eye, his mouth forming into an overly happy grin as he rushed straight towards his sweetheart, large hands grabbing onto the shrieking person who was trying to hit him.

How mean. But it was a reasonable reaction, he supposed.

For the first time in forever, things felt right. Phainon wanted to scream from the rooftops that he had you, he finally was holding you in his arms once again. Gone was the pain, his sorrow melting away into a puddle of need as he kissed your face all over, salty tears staining the cheeks of the one most precious to him, which caused him great agony. He grabbed the hand which was now raised high up, his grip iron tight as he pleaded to just be heard -

- And then as the man turned his head, all he could see was red.

A small, dainty little piece of fabric clinging onto your wrist, the tiny red wine bow a stark reminder of why he came here in the first place. He chuckled maniacally, his chest reverberating back and forth as he tilted his head backwards, his gaze meeting the soft glow of the moonlight as he felt the white hot rage take over his whole being.

This is not the best idea.

But, he could not even think of that statement at the moment.

He had other things to do.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

The man thrashed helplessly beneath Phainon, the massive wooden desk now a mess of documents and spit as the Doctor tried to feebly break free from the chokehold in which he was held in. A pathetic trail of his own vomit drizzled down his busted lip as Phainon grinned like a mad man, pleased to see that the one who caused him so much pain was finally feeling a fraction of what he has been feeling these past few months.

Who did this pathetic waste of oxygen think he was? Big fancy doctor got his degree and gets and overly inflated ego to boot.

And his precious peach fell for it.

She fell for it and it hurt, it wounded him so revoltingly. In that office at that moment, Phainon was less of a man and more a beast. A true deliverer of suffering. If the stars had decided to place him into an overly dramatic Greek tragedy as the main hero, then so be it.

He was going to be the star. He was going to be the brightest, most brilliant fucking star anyone had ever seen.

And Phainon was going to burn so bright that he was going to suffocate the man beneath him with his light.

His knuckles twitched sickeningly, the disgusting sound of impending death reaching his ears as he felt the tears of his victim on his wrists. The cool liquid felt surprisingly pleasant against his overly hot flesh, giving him a brief sense of reprieve. Phainon wondered if the engorged vein on his arm was going to pop due to the strain he was putting on it, his perfectly white flesh a stark contrast against the dark blue seam. Suddenly , he snapped at himself, there was no time to waste on mindless idling - harder.

He needed to press harder. And so, he did.

He needed to see the life out of the man's eyes being snuffed out. He needed to feel the sensation of his spirit leaving his stupid body, he needed to make sure that in this life and in all the others that this man would never reach you. Never, not ever.

With a sick thud, the Doctor went limp in Phainon's embrace. The silence was so thick and heavy that it felt as though it could be cut with a dull butter knife. Phainon held the fresh corpse in his hands, the broken neck of the man he had just savagely killed being lulled side to side like a broken souvenir one would get at a cheap pawn shop.

Once he was sure that the man was gone for good, Phainon stood up. He drooped the body carelessly onto the green carpet, the fuzzy fabric now stained crimson. The Doctor's hand was next to his head, that stupidly cute ribbon still clinging onto him even in death. Phainon roared in anger, heavenly blue eyes shining with fury as he grabbed his victim's hand and ripped the ribbon off. Stuffing it into his pocket, he turned his back away from the gruesome scene and made his way out the door, his steps thick and heavy.

He'd rather be in jail than feel this pain.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

Phainon was weeping. He didn't know what he was doing, hell, he didn't even know why he was doing it in the first place. He did not understand why he had his arms wrapped around your neck, he did not understand why he was choking the life out of you with that same wine red ribbon which he had taken earlier.

All he could focus on was your face. That beautiful, ethereal, angelic face. The face which haunts his dreams and nightmares, the once cheerful face which was turning plum purple by the second. Phainon heaved, his body heavy with regret and sorrow but the anger... Oh how he choked back on a sob, thick snot escaping his nose as he gripped his peach even harder, the soft flesh becoming more and more dull in his grotesque hold. Gone was the lovesick puppy, banished deep within the darkest pits of Hell the moment he snuffed the life out of his first victim. Standing now was a man who had lost his will to live.

He had nothing. He had lost you. Once upon a time, he vowed to you that no one was ever going to lay a single finger on you. In some macabre way, he kept his word. For as long as he walked on this Earth, not a single soul dared to harm you.

Never once did he think that he was going to be the one who was going to end it all.

Phainon watched you take your last breath and he wondered if this was perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen you. No one could take you from him, not even he himself could do that now. The thought of having no one, it made his soul whimper in morbid misery. But right here, right now, he had you. He was never going to be alone, never again.

Phainon had made up his mind ages ago. He'd rather be in Hell than be alone.

A/N: Ah, there really is no better tension between a girl who has to study for an important exam vs getting a fic idea right in the middle of her study session.

I literally got screwed over by SZA for showing up on my playlist because this fic just popped in my head. I made it a modern AU because I thought it fit the tone of the song better, hope y'all don't mind. I'm also having a bad creative block as of late so I've no idea if this fic is actually any good or not! Everything I write looks wrong these days and I had to go back and rewrite this multiple times because I just could not get it to look right.

If anything, it was at least fun to edit.

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prythiansprincess · 1 year ago

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chicken noodle soup.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths

author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭

Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays.

Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick.

As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.

Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.

With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found.

At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life.

Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you.

When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely.

“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?”

The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?”

Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation.

“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.”

“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.”

“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.”

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave.

With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.

Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.

By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course.

The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again.

In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem.

Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side.

“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?”

The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot.

“Nice slippers, princess.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?”

“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”

“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?”

Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.

“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.”

You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.”

“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?”

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy.

The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.

"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."

You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."

"Come on, you should sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."

Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon.

“Here, have some of this. It should help.”

As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.

“Chicken noodle soup?”

As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it.

Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?”

For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?”

Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.”

You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?”

The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.”

After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little.

“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.”

“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.”

Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?”

“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed. It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.

“How do you know all of that?”

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.”

“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”

You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?”

“You missed me.”

Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.”

“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?”

“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”

“Yeah, but they’re not you.”

He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.

“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.”��

“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.”

“That wasn’t a denial, you know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?”

“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.”

“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.”

The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?”

“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’

Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.”

The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh.

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer.

"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"

"If you tell anyone—"

"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."

Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."

You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."

"Why's that, princess?"

"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."

"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."

"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."

He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.

“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.

You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?”

Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.”

You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?”

You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @bubybubsters @criesinlies @niktwazny303 @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404

#a cuddle from him could reset my brain chemistry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff

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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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an ode to a conversation stuck in your throat | s.r.

in which Spencer tries to talk you out of taking a job across the country

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: miscommunication (sigh), very cheesy, brief mention of wine, defining the relationship, insecure spencer, easily confused reader, chemist!reader word count: 1.04k a/n: if i could go a week without writing a dwg song fic that would be crazy. also surprise it's chemist!reader again.

"Thanks for stopping so I could change,” you say to Spencer, leading the way into your apartment and locking the door behind you. “I’m sure lab dress code and David Rossi dress code are miles apart,” you continue, hanging your backpack on the wall.

Spencer hums in response, “You’d look great in anything you wear.”

Your face warms at the compliment, “You’re sweet. You can just wait out here, I shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes,” you gesture to the living room, smiling at him before heading off to your room.

Nervously, you pull off your lab-safe attire and discard all of it into the laundry hamper before putting on the dress you’d chosen for dinner tonight. It’s not overly fancy, but you hope his team will like it. You hope his team will like you.

Looking at yourself in your dresser mirror, you reconsider your choice of shoes, switching from a pair of kitten heels to flats before walking out the door, “Hey, Spence, is Rossi’s patio heated, or should I bring a sweater for when the sun goes down?” You stop in your tracks when you find Spencer, still in the entryway, looking at the color-coded whiteboard calendar you keep by your front door, “What’s up?”

His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his slacks, and he looks upset. What’s worse is you think he might be upset with you. “What’s this dinner you have planned next Friday?”

You feel like a child who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t be, draping the proposed sweater over the back of a kitchen stool and crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “It’s a work dinner,” you answer nervously.

“With?” Spencer asks, but he’s not pushy about it, there’s something desperate in his tone.

Pursing your lips, you look at the purple writing on the calendar, “The chair of Biochemistry and Molecular Genetics at Northwestern, and a representative from the college's dean. They’re offering me a job with a private lab and my own team of researchers… so they’re taking me out to dinner.”

Spencer’s face fell, “They’re offering you a job in Chicago?”

“Well, that’s where Northwestern is. Evanston, if you want to get technical about it,” you respond, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He looks at you dumbfoundedly, “I don’t want to get technical about it. When were you going to tell me that you’re taking a job in Chicago?” It almost seems like he’s afraid.

You raise your eyebrows in curiosity, you’ve been seeing each other for a month, and you’ve never known Spencer to jump to conclusions. “I’m not,” you tell him, keeping your tone void of any accusation, “They’re just taking me to dinner.”

Spencer sighs, “But they’re offering you a job. In a different state. In a different timezone.”

Admittedly, he was beginning to sound a bit ridiculous to you, “Don’t you field offers from colleges all the time? They want you to teach or tell you to become Spencer Reid, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, or whatever?”

His eyes follow you as you move to sit down at the kitchen counter, “It never gets as far as dinner.”

“I’m not taking the job,” you tell him simply, shrugging your shoulders demurely.

Spencer falters at that, knitting his brows together as he tries to piece together the answers you’re willingly giving him, “If you’re not taking the job then why are you going to dinner with them?”

Hiding a small smile, you give him the truth, “They pick up the tab. I go to a lot of these and I get good food out of the deal. These people love to schmooze but I’ve never been offered anything that I would be inclined to accept.” This specific job seemed perfect on the surface, but they weren’t willing to let you choose what to research. That was non-negotiable for you.

“I could schmooze you,” he insists, “You don’t need other people to schmooze you.”

You giggle at him, waving him over to you so you can look him in the eyes when you tell him, “I go for free food and good wine. No other reason.” Your smile was gentle, but inside your heart was pounding. He was scared I was going to leave, you think to yourself.

He sighs, “Will you… will you tell me in the future when you get these dinner offers?” His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll think he’s asking too much of you.

Nodding, you reach out and take one of his hands in yours, “I can, but I didn’t think were at the ‘I’m being courted by another workplace, and I wanted to let you know’ stage yet. That’s kind of a girlfriend thing,” you explain.

Spencer frowns, “Aren’t you?”

Tilting your head to the side, you look at him curiously, “Aren’t I what?”

“My girlfriend,” he clarifies.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh! I didn’t think so, I thought you had to ask yet.” Although you’re far from a relationship expert, you’d had to ask your PhD advisee what to wear before your first date with Spencer.

The panicked look on his face returns, “I’ve been telling people you’re my girlfriend. Should I not have been doing that?”

Shaking your head, you beam up at him, “I don’t mind. I just thought you had to ask about that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I’ve never really done this before.”

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a moment before you decide to speak up again, “So, just so we’re on the same page. I’m not moving to Chicago.”

Spencer frowns again, and you have to hold yourself back from using your thumb to smooth out the crease on his forehead, “Will you?”

Confused, you lean your head back, “Move to Chicago?”

“Be my girlfriend,” he amends quickly.

You nod, “I would love to.”

“And just so we’re on the same page,” he ducks his head down, so close to a kiss that it makes you feel dizzy, “I like to think I’m the only one who can really court you.”

Laughing, you lean forward and peck his lips, “I would be insulted if you didn’t think that.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #chemist!reader #flufftober #margotober #QE2

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briefinquiries · 6 months ago

Text

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season.

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner.

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention.

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends.

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect.

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note–

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm.

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire.

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note–

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly.

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong.

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom.

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you.

From there it only gets worse–

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second–

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?”

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe–

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly.

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs…

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find.

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter.

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut.

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically–

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots–

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path–

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize.

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level.

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help.

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. ��It’s okay– you’re okay.”

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.”

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.”

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest–

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–”

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form.

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek.

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along.

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly. Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort.

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom.

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now.

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again.

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges.

Slowly, you pull back.

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw.

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–”

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away.

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.”

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter.

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes.

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest.

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens #twister imagine #twister fic #twister x reader

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authorbriannarae13 · 2 months ago

Text

Mind of Mine // i just want to watch you take it off - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read on AO3 here.

summary; "You got 'nother one, sugar?"

Joel knows exactly how to get you wetter than ever. or this is the work you get when the author listens to the song 'TiO' off of the album 'Mind Of Mine' on repeat. for five hours.

warnings; smut (MDNI); unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel, so much praise

word count; 1.3k (it's my first joel fic, ok?)

You’re swaying to the music while Joel’s behind you, cooking as always.

He usually ignores you – not because you’re necessarily a distraction – but instead, because giving you the attention you crave doesn’t end well. For either of you. Last time he gave you attention, your wrists were secured to the headboard as he fucked your brains out, giving you too many orgasms to count and forgetting about the food.

Oops.

You live to be a tease, though.

It excites you too much to stop.

Mainly because it lets him plan how he’s going to punish you. Or praise you.

Whichever he’s in the mood for.

Based on his current mood – which is subject to change – he’s most definitely going to praise you.

And after the day you’ve had, it’s definitely what you need. Working for a publishing house can be stressful. And today was one of those days.

Good thing Joel loves to make you feel light – weightless, actually.

Not to mention how safe you feel. And when you feel safe, the softer side comes out.

Like all relationships, you just need to feel safe to show it.

“Darlin’,” his rough, Southern drawl interrupts your music, and you turn it off.

“Yes?” you ask, teasingly. Trying to rile him up.

But you never succeed. He knows you too well for that.

Turning away and holding a hand out, he murmurs a simple, “C’mere.”

So, you take it, letting him drag you and lift you up – right into his arms. Bridal style, of course.

You groan as your thighs clench, trying to hide your soaked cunt.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“Fuck off,” you mutter while he carries you to the bedroom. Since he insists, he needs his fill of you before he can think about anything else – or dessert, as he likes to call it.

He kicks the door open and lays you down, playing with the hem of your skirt.

Your hips buck into his touch. He’s teasing you – you realize.

“Joel,” you moan as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your skirt down, and revealing the soaked black lace covering your cunt.

He pulls the lace aside, running his fingers against your swollen pussy, and he groans deep in his throat. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, pretty girl.”

Your brain goes blank as his index and middle finger both sink inside you, curling towards your g-spot.

“Fuck, sir.”

“N’ne of that sir shit tonight, baby.” He grabs your ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up to your swollen - and aching - clit.

Your head falls back as your eyes roll into the back out your head. “Fuckk.”

You’re so close. If he would just curl his fingers against your g-spot just one more time, you’d be there.

He lets out a gruff chuckle that reverberates though your body as his other hand finds you shirt, pushing it up to find your nipple, pinching it.

That sends you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel,” you moan as the orgasm hits, crashing you into waves with each one more intense than the one before it.

His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your clit even as you try to buck him off. “I can’t. I can’t- “

He cuts you off before you can repeat it again, “You can and will give me ‘nother one, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you groan as he pulls his fingers out, thrusting them back in while your back arches.

In. Out. In. Out. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

His fingers thrust faster as your thighs start to wrap around his head, trying to keep him there.

The second orgasm is faster than the first. You let out a silent scream as the waves rush into you for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“Good – fuck – good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, his tongue still swirling around your clit as the waves subside.

The strength from earlier leaves you almost immediately, making your legs fall. You’re boneless, but you also know he fucks you regardless of just how boneless you feel.

“You got ‘nother one for me, sugar?”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth, “Taste yourself.”

You happily oblige, opening your mouth to take his fingers and tasting your cum mixed with his skin in a fucked up symphony.

His groan reverberates off the walls as you suck on his fingers – the same way you always have his cock. That’s when he starts to pull your panties down your legs, giving him better access.

Since that’s what this is all about, of course. And better access usually means better orgasms.

Speak of the devil – that shit must hurt. He looks painfully hard.

He interrupts your staring. “You like what you see?”

You slowly start to nod, but he slowly pulls his hand away, fingers leaving with a pop.

He leans down towards you, as you lean up and play with the hem of his shirt before you decide to pull it off.

Next is his belt as you hurry and rip it off, trying to get to his jeans.

“Woah,” he lets out a low chuckle, “’u’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t ya, beautiful?”

“No,” you whine as he starts to stop your frantic hands. “Just need you,”

“Where ya need me?”

“You know where,” you sass with everything you can muster.

“Need to hear ya say it, baby.”

“Fuck,” you moan as his jeans lightly graze your cunt. “Need you in me – fuck – now.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, pulling his jeans and boxers down – as fast as he can. “’U’re g’nna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“I – fuck –“ His thrust cuts you off as he bottoms out. “I live to please.”

“So I can tell,” is the hiss you get back while he waits for you to adjust.

“Move already,” you whine before you can stop yourself. “Break me for all I – fuck –care.”

He slowly finds the pace you’re accustomed to – hard and fast.

“Look at ‘cha. You’re takin’ me so well.”

Your cunt clenches around him as he continues. “Aw, does my good girl need to be reminded of how good she feels?”

“You-“ you start, “you keep doing that and I’ll finish faster than I ever have.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Is that a promise?”

“B-better be,” you stutter as his thumb finds your clit. Again.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back again. Everything is sensitive.

You’re not even expecting the orgasm when it washes over you.

“Good – fuck. You’re such a good girl f’r me, sugar,” he praises, not taking his thumb away.

“Fuck.” It’s somewhere between a moan and groan. “Fuck, everything’s so sensitive.” Now that’s definitely a groan.

He ignores you, continuing his praise. “Fuck. Good girl. God, Good fuckin’ girl.”

You softly whine as he slowly speeds his pace up, trying to find his own orgasm.

After more futile moans, whimpers, and whatever else he can pull out of you.

“Fuck, you’re g’nna make me cum so fuckin’ fast, pretty girl. Goddamn-“ And that’s when you feel his orgasm crash into him – violent and unforgiving.

The orgasm lasts so long that neither one of you can keep up with how much time has passed. It isn’t until he flips you two over, so you’re on top and he’s not crushing you, that you know it’s done.

“Fuck,” you softly laugh, pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as he holds you tightly. You kiss his chest while he hums.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs kissing your forehead, “u’re all fucked out, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe,” you tease while he gives you a look.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

Eventually, after Joel made sure you were okay in every aspect, you two make your way back into the kitchen, attempting to get your appetite back after all that.

You’re standing behind him with your head laying on his back when you murmur, “I love you forever and always, baby.”

You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he says, “I love you more than anything else, darlin’.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #ao3 fanfic #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #dom!joel miller #praise k!nk #reader insert #soft!joel miller #inspired by a song

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kaiyunsim · 28 days ago

Text

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

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twinkling-moonlillie · 4 months ago

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Hawks Headcanons

A/N: I am currently obsessed with Hawks (if you couldn't tell) and writing for him is fun. I made these headcanons while procrastinating on my midterm paper a few days ago-

Warnings: Some NSFW content; MDNI. Some angst too

Starting things off with an angsty bang, Hawks has a bad habit of plucking his feathers when he is stressed out. It’s never too often and it’s never to a critical extent, but it does occur. Birds often do this as a form of coping with negative feelings, so perhaps he does this after a brutal mission.

Like many other people, I firmly believe that Keigo has a thing for shiny or interesting looking objects. Again, it’s not to an obsessive extent, but he does have a good eye for pretty trinkets. Especially ones he thinks will look good on you.

I don’t think Hawks is a good cook. There, I said it. This man barely has time for himself, do you really think he has time to devote to cooking? Do you really think that the Commission taught him to cook? Fuck no. He sticks to quick take out purely out of necessity.

They say that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and this is absolutely true with Keigo. He would love the little lunches and dinners you make for him while he is at work! He gobbles it up like a turkey. He swears that your food is the best thing he has ever had; he literally moans when the aroma hits his nostrils.

I forget which fic I read this from (I will link if I find it), but I adore the headcanon of Hawk’s taking rut suppressant pills. I just think it makes so much sense since it aligns with his work-centric life and his lack of a wife (we aren’t talking about when you are married to him, obviously). They are probably similar to birth control pills where they stop the rut from happening 5% of the time.

Even without his rut happening, Keigo still has a huge breeding kink. Can you blame him though? He just thinks that you'll look gorgeous with his cum leaking out of your pretty pussy.

*whispers* he also has the equipment to match

He has definitely accidentally run into a window from imagining you with a cute lil baby bump.

He can get a little whiny and needy about wanting to devour your pussy. He will straight up beg you on his hands and knees. Please say yes to him.

The songs Angel with a Shotgun and Mr Blue Sky fit him so well. Fight me on this.

Also the song Hey Look Ma, I made it

I just imagine happy birb listening to Mr. Blue Sky after meeting you.

Intentional or not, his wings flap and rustle during sex.

On the topic of his wings, I don’t think they are as sensitive as we all wish they were. It’s not like he’s gonna start moaning and whimpering when random fans touch his wings (he canonical doesn’t) HOWEVER, it does feel nice when you massage and gently comb your fingertips through them. I’m thinking that it’s similar to hair?? Or maybe his wings are ticklish?? But only in the right context??

You are the only person he really trusts to take care of his wings

Keigo loves holding you in his arms and taking you on night flights. The stars always seem brighter when they are reflected in your eyes (at least, Keigo thinks so…). You even have your own set of aviator goggles to wear during these dates.

One of his favorite things is when he DOESN’T have morning patrol and can snuggle you until at least 10 in the morning. Although it may be longer because his sleep debt is so huge. There is just something so satisfying and peaceful with having you close enough to hear your heartbeat.

His biggest dream is being able to have a family with you in a quaint little house. His life, your life…they aren’t constantly in danger and he can sleep in with you, make you breakfast (it’s only a little burnt), wrap his wings around you.

Keigo is extremely possessive of, not only you, but the life you created together. He is very sensitive towards things that threaten the small slice of normalcy he has, eliciting a sense of hypervigilance and territorialism.

His mental state isn’t the best from the culmination of trauma he experiences, leading him to commit psychic cannibalism on himself. He represses all of these negative feelings in order to perform to the best of his ability and be the good lap dog for the Hero Commission.

Needs therapy.

It’s established that he has some form of echolocation through his feathers. So…hear me out…just to make sure you are safe 24/7, Keigo gives you one of his smaller feathers. I’m not going to rant because I might make this into a small oneshot/drabble later

#Keigo Takami #Keigo Takami x reader #Hawks #Hawks x reader #Hawk mha #bnha #reader insert #Hawks smut #Keigo Takami smut #Hawks x reader smut #my hero academia smut #mha smut #mha x reader #Hawks headcanons #Keigo headcanons #Keigo x reader #Hawks x you #Keigo Takami x you #fluff

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pearlessance · 14 days ago

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Killshot, Baby! —part one

summary: nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck.

pairing: brat tamer!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, 10 year age gap (reader is 18, nanami is 28), fingering, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of 'little girl' as a pet name, cum eating, semi-public, praise, size kink, hair pulling, brat taming, reader has added backstory to progress the plot

wc: 3.8k

note: this is my first ever jjk fic pls be niceee :') not sure how many parts this will be, rn I'm thinking like 5-8 but we will see!! heavily influenced by the song killshot by magdalena bay!! tysm for reading i love u <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Places like this make your skin crawl.

Even knowing you need to assimilate yourself to the glitz and glamour of it all, you just can’t shake the turning of your stomach as you watch drops of top-shelf liquor spill over the rims of glass tumblers. Liquid splashes that cost more than a day’s pay for someone less well-off than every person in that room.

When you step out onto the balcony, the air feels icy against your too-warm skin. The city lights twinkle in the distance, disturbing the black of night and shining too brightly to grant you the luxury of seeing the stars.

You wonder what time it is, wonder if curfew still applies for an event like this. And if it does, you’ll surely catch a reprimanding from Yaga in the morning even if Gojo takes the brunt of it. Maki’s incessant questioning that’s sure to come when you step back into the dormitories might be an even worse fate, though.

“It gets to be a bit overwhelming, doesn’t it?” His smooth voice startles you.

Overwhelming is a cordial way of putting it, you think. “Suffocating might be a better word.”

He huffs. Not quite a laugh, but a sound of agreement nonetheless. The shadows in the dark corner of the balcony keep you from getting a good look at him. You can only make out a handful of features—a few strands of blonde hair that have gone rogue from the combed, slicked-back style, falling rebelliously in front of his warm eyes. The tan slacks he wears look expensive and pressed, a stark contrast to the wrinkles in his white button-up. The sleeves are rolled casually to his elbows, and the moonlight reflects off the crystal face of his watch.

There’s something about him that feels…familiar. A strange sort of sameness. And despite the way he exudes the same lavish energy that everyone else at the party does, you can’t help but feel like he’s somehow different than they are. Maybe it’s because you’re seemingly the only two who are struggling to find enjoyment in the reception.

“That bad, hm?” He stands from his seat in the corner and joins you at the railing. Even bent over with his forearms on the stainless steel edge he looms over you; a powerful, menacing presence. A man with an iron grip on control. “Which part, exactly, feels so asphyxiating?”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. But maybe it’s just the chill in the air. “All of it,” you admit. “The gluttony. The carelessness. Everyone is so out of touch with reality. It’s like they become so absorbed with all the extravagance, they forget most people struggle to make ends meet. Ten minutes out of the city a mother is working eighty hours a week and still having difficulty feeding her children, and they’re drinking bottles of whiskey that cost more than she gets paid in a month.”

Your gaze focuses on his long fingers as he interlocks them together. “You don’t think those with money deserve to enjoy it?”

When you roll your eyes it feels involuntary, like second nature. “There’s a difference between enjoying it and flaunting it. I’ve never met Nanami Kento, but he seems like a real asshole.”

This time he does laugh. And the smile that stretches across his face, revealing a row of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, is nothing short of debilitating. He’s beautiful, achingly so. And the deep, baritone sound of his laughter stirs something strange and warm in your chest.

You continue, asking, “How much do you think it cost him to host something like this? I mean, all together. The drinks, the food, the pay for the waiters, all of it. Even that ridiculous fucking ice sculpture.” He’s still grinning, and as you animatedly speak you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. It makes your cheeks burn. “My guess? Two million yen. Easily.”

“That seems a bit much,” he says. “It’s not that extravagant, is it? It’s being hosted in his home, after all.”

“Yeah, his penthouse,” you say with disdain. “What’s your guess, then? How much do you think was spent on this asshole’s little soiree?”

He seems to contemplate for several seconds, turning his head to the view of the city. His profile is breathtaking; all chiseled jaw and Greek nose and lush lips. You have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the barely-there stubble along his cheek beneath your fingers. “One and half million,” he says.

This time you’re the one who laughs. It’s the first time you’ve done so all night, despite being promised otherwise. “As if that’s any better,” you say. “If he donated even half of what he spent to host a party like this, it could change someone’s life.”

“I suppose that’s true. But maybe you’re wrong about the reason he’s gone to such extremes. Maybe it’s less about flaunting it and more about filling his home with people. Giving them an excuse to come here.”

“Why would anyone want this many people in their home? Making a mess, pouring their money down the drain? It’s not like this kind of luxury comes easily. He might be an asshole but he’s certainly a hard-working one. Why blow it on something as insignificant as a party?”

His answer comes quickly. “Loneliness.”

He says it with such conviction it’s as if he’s speaking from experience. And you suppose he very well could be. Standing in that crowd, not knowing a single soul apart from the one who’d dragged you here and promptly abandoned you, speaking empty words to people who won’t remember your name tomorrow—it had made you feel lonely, too. Lonely enough to step outside, to find comfort in the quiet as the beautiful man beside you had. “Maybe he should get himself a girlfriend,” you suggest.

“Maybe he should.” The lightheartedness returns to the conversation the second he smiles at you. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I never gave it to you.” Your teasing seems to please him.

His stare is intense, flickering between your eyes and the clear gloss on your lips. You want him to lean in and taste the cherry flavor. “What should I call you, then?”

You shrug, turning to face him fully, leaning against the balcony’s steel railing. It brings you just a little closer to him. Close enough to inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne. It makes you feel dizzy, makes you feel drunk. You say, “Whatever you want.” And mean it.

This is dangerous, you know. Standing out here alone with an older man, a stranger to you. Away from any semblance of safety. He could do anything to you right now and you’d have no way of fighting him off. He’s too big, too strong. And the worst part, you think, is that you’d just let it happen. That you wouldn’t even mind.

He reaches out and touches your cheek—a gentle, respectful caress. Despite the innocence, it leaves nothing but sinful thoughts swirling in your head. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the way goosebumps rise over your skin.

“You’re a strange little girl,” he mutters. His voice slides through your center, sultry and captivating. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you or not. It feels kind. Affectionate, even. But you can’t fully decide because your brain begins to short-circuit, hung up on the way the words little girl sounds in his tantalizing mouth.

“Strange is better than boring,” you tell him.

“You could never be boring.” There’s that conviction again. So sure of himself. Confident, steadfast, and solid. You wonder silently what that must be like.

Since learning you housed a rare ability to use cursed energy, there hasn’t been a single moment where you’re sure of who you are. But…right now, feeling the heat radiate off his skin, you think maybe you know what you want. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to, though.” The response is quick. Final. He presses his palm flat against your jaw, cradling your face, and slides it slowly to the nape of your neck. The friction feels intense. Heightened.

Your breath comes slow and labored, a conscious effort now. And you figure if he can touch you, that you can touch him back. But it’s less for enjoyment and more for necessity as you place a hand against his chest, feeling the softness of his cotton button-up beneath your palm. The way he looks at you makes your knees tremble. And he’s the solid, magnetic force you need to keep yourself upright.

“Pretty dress,” he says. It’s revealing, more so than you’d realized in the dressing room. Low cut and shimmery and pale pink—your favorite color. His warm eyes pierce yours as his free hand comes to your hip, resting against the textured sequins. “Expensive. Indulgent.”

He’s trying to call your bluff, you know. But your dislike for over extravagance is sincere and though he’s shaken your once calm equilibrium, it satisfies you to know he’ll never dissuade you in this singular thing. “I didn’t buy it.”

“No?” He fists the fabric, pulling the already too-short edge up higher. “Who did, then? Your boyfriend?”

My teacher. You don’t have the nerve to say it, though. Don’t have the words, patience, or breath to explain that Gojo gave you his shiny black card and insisted you find something worthy of tonight’s event. You find evasion an easier line of conversation. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He fists more of the fabric, hiking it higher—inch by devastating inch. The air is cool against your exposed thigh, but it’s hard to notice. You can’t see or hear or feel anything but the way his deft fingertips stroke the lace edge of your panties, a teasing caress. “How…fortunate.”

Your pulse rings in your ears. Warmth builds between your thighs with the promise of his touch that seems to be all-knowing and omnipresent. He presses into the softness just beneath your navel and you can feel the pressure down to your toes. His presence is somehow even more smothering than the energy inside, but this is…different. Hot.

Every nerve ending in your body flares on edge when he slides his hand between your legs, the pad of his middle finger ghosting over your center. Your lips part and your eyelids flutter closed. Separated by only a thin layer of lace, you can feel the heat of him and have to fight the urge to rock your hips against his hand. When he speaks, the words come out strained. “I need to know that you want this.”

There’s never been anything you’ve wanted more, you think. And you decide to tell him, to let the honesty bleed through, but then he’s moving his hand again, caressing your pussy with deft fingers. He does it with intention—a meticulous discovery of your body, preserving it forever in memory. It's such an intimate touch that it leaves you feeling open, chafed raw. All you can manage is a meek but resolute nod of your head in answer.

But it’s not enough for him. With such decorum, he says, “Use your words, sweetheart. Please.” It’s so polite it makes you ache.

You have to crane your neck just a little to look him right in the eye, but you do it anyway because you want him to see the truth. Want him to see just how bad you mean it when you say, “I want you.”

The corners of his lips turn up into a sinful smirk. And before you have time to catch your breath, before you can process just how unbearably handsome he looks with the city lights reflected in his honeyed hair, he’s slipping his hand into your panties and finding out for himself just how bad you want him.

He separates your folds and finds your clit with expert precision, already wet and messy for him. Everywhere, all at once—he’s everywhere. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his body pressing against yours. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you can taste. The moment he begins circling the throbbing bud your spine arches, pleasure filling you with each calculated movement. “Oh, god.”

You spread your legs further for him, allowing even more access. The steel of his silver watch is biting cold against the too-warm inside of your thighs, the only sensation keeping you tethered to the Earth.

But any attempted salvation is shattered to pieces the moment he presses a finger into you, curling upwards as if he has known your body for far longer than just the night. “Fuck—”

“Language,” he quickly chastises. He slides his hand on the back of your neck into your hair and pulls, forcing you to stare up at him. It is so nearly like punishment, except he adds another finger inside you to join the first which feels much closer to a reward. The stretch is bliss, and you can feel your slick dripping down his thick knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. And you’re not even sure why, but an apology just feels right. Feels good. But not as good as it feels when he presses hard against that soft spot inside you, quickly finding a rhythm that has sweat beading at your hairline. “I’m sorry,” you say again, because all other words have vacated your brain.

He quickens the pace, fingers drawing out obscene moans from your chest. You wish he would kiss you. You want to feel the pressure of his lips against yours, want to taste the inside of his mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it, can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him watch you.

There’s this look in his eye that makes your heart stutter in your chest. Like he holds something more than divine in his hands. As if you’re not just some girl at a party but some god-like creature instead. You feel warm under his intensity. Burned.

And when he speaks, his voice is so sultry and deep that you whimper. “S’that feel good? Right there?”

“Yes, yes—please, don’t stop.” You don’t even recognize your own voice. Can barely hear the way you beg for him over the ringing in your ears, permeated only by the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

It’s rehearsed. Practiced. It takes just seconds before you start to feel yourself pull tight, straining against the unforgiving pace he sets. You're a gasping, desperate mess, and he seems to find such joy in it. Grinning down at you, forearm flexing in exertion, veins protruding from his wrist. He curls his fingers inside of you and positions his thumb so that it passes over your throbbing clit with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “Do you know how pretty you are, little girl?”

“I—God—I’m gonna cum, I—”

“Yeah,” he coos, tone affectionate and tender. “I know it. Can feel this sweet pussy squeezing me so tight. She needs it bad, doesn't she? Hm?”

He thrusts his fingers into you hard—once, twice, and then your thighs begin to shake. Your fists tighten, knuckles paling as you grip the soft fabric of his button-up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and then it’s all happening at once, pleasure exploding beneath your skin.

You bite back your moans, trying not to think about the throng of the party just inside. Your entire body vibrates beneath his unyielding movements, slick walls squeezing and pulsing around his thick fingers. You don’t tell him but it’s like he just knows. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing his lips into your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Let it happen, jus’ let it happen.”

Earth-shattering. Liquid pools in the palm of his hand and trickles down the inside of your thighs, soaking through the lace fabric, but he keeps you upright on trembling legs. Fucks you through it with those magical fingers of his, and doesn’t stop until tears prick the corners of your eyes. He slows, massaging that sacred spot inside of you just a few times more before slowly sliding his fingers out. When he holds them up between you, shiny and glistening with your slick, you can’t fight off the way your cheeks burn.

It isn’t until this precise moment that you realize he’s breathing hard, the only chink in his armor of composure thus far. In all your life, in all your experience, it’s never felt quite like that.

Yet still, even more satiated than you’ve ever been, you feel your clit throb as he presses his middle and ring finger into his mouth and sucks them clean. “I…” You what?

Words evade you. You want to tell him how good it was, want to get on your knees and repay the favor, want to tell him your name. But his stare is intense and intimidating and—

The balcony door slides open and you both move quickly—stepping away from each other, smoothing the wrinkles out of your clothes.

Your heart races behind your sternum as Gojo steps out, all-black suit pristine save for the unbuttoned coat. “Nanami! I was just coming to find you to introduce you to our very special student, but it seems you’ve found her all on your own.”

Nanami?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe the hand that was inside you seconds ago on the back of his slacks. “Satoru,” he greets cooly.

Suddenly the balcony feels more suffocating than the unruly party inside. For a single second, the thought crosses your mind that you could jump right off the edge of the railing without a moment’s regret.

Gojo shoves his hands into his pockets and speaks with an airy tone, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

Kento Nanami.

The reason you’re here. The man who’d invited you. The man who’s hosting this party.

Every second that’s passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony flashes through your brain. All the terrible things you’d said about him, every word of agreement he’d uttered back. Every signal, every sign he’d given you to shut the fuck up, and somehow you’d missed every single one and just kept on talking.

Guilt slithers down your spine, settles in your gut, and makes a home inside. You’d meant it, though. Every single word you’d said. But you’d never meant to say it to him, had never intended to be cruel.

And then you proceeded to let him touch you without an ounce of resistance.

A grade one sorcerer, someone you should be learning from, someone you should revere…and you’d let him stuff you with his fingers before even knowing his fucking name. Begged him for it, even.

He’d licked them clean.

Gojo says your name, pulling you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of it.”

“Fine,” you answer too quickly for it to sound convincing. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just…late. What did you say?” You try to ignore the sticky feeling between your thighs to no avail.

“We’re going to head back now,” Gojo repeats. “If we stay much later I worry Ijichi might send out a search party for us.”

You’ve never been more ready to leave than you are right this second. You turn to Nanami and nod politely. “It was…uhm. Nice to meet you, sir.”

There’s nothing else to say, so you don’t. Pushing past Gojo and back inside, you weave your way through the moving crowd of people, trying to find the front door. It takes longer than you anticipated, but once you’re walking down the long penthouse hallway to the all-glass elevator you start to feel your shoulders dropping.

You recognize the pattern of Gojo’s long strides easily, and he catches up to you just as the elevator doors slide open.

Ever the gossip, he’s making insinuations as soon the two of you step inside and begin the timely descent. “That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. What the hell happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Right…”

“I mean it,” you insist. Because you might be older than the other students and Jujutsu High, but the last thing you’d ever want to do is put Nanami in a position to be ridiculed. He didn’t know. And you didn’t, either. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, voice holding a sarcastic edge. “Nothing happened. That’s why you had this look on your face like you were trying really hard to make yourself spontaneously combust. Right, right. Sounds like nothing.”

“Sounds like nothing because it was nothing.”

He sighs dramatically, turning to fully face you. “I can keep a secret. You know that. Just tell me now and we never have to talk about it again, I swear.”

You stand stone still, lips sealed firmly shut.

Gojo presses his hands together and juts out his bottom lip, and you wonder how the fuck you’d ended up here. Watching your mentor—a grown man—pout like a child for a scrap of information.

With a roll of your eyes, you say, “We can stop at that mochi place tonight if you never speak of it again.”

“Deal.”

He stays true to his word, and you stay true to yours.

When Gojo told you all about it on the way to the party, you’d thought he’d been exaggerating the decadence of the treat, but it truly was the best you’d ever had. You return to the dormitories with kinako dusted fingers, and Gojo doesn’t ask about Nanami again.

You think, hope, that it’s the end of it. Hope that when you inevitably cross paths with Kento Nanami again, you’ll be able to act professionally. You’ll put this calamity behind you, never to be repeated, and absorb the knowledge he can provide about wielding cursed energy like a blade.

But when you wake up the following morning, Maki’s pounding on your bedroom door, holding a bouquet of white flowers in a pale pink crystalline vase. There’s a white, lace ribbon tied around the center of it with a hand-written note attached. The penmanship is meticulous. Precise.

It reads, Thank you for the perspective. Apologies for the overindulgence. -K.

Maki’s brows are raised and her eyes are wide. She pushes you back into your room and seals you both inside. “Talk.”

taglist; @maybe-a-bi-witch @zeunys @mima0127 @unicornflutter

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ceesimz · 6 months ago

Text

when we two parted

part two here!

This fic is based off the poem When We Two Parted (hence the name, and see a section of it above) as well as a song called Strange by Celeste. I think this fic is a result of the romcom movie marathon i did last week whilst recovering from concussion so make of that what you will. If it's wanted, I can do a part two!

A house party in Menorca was hardly a place to fall in love. Or so Alexia thought.

To some, the end of the season was a welcome break to completely switch off and relish in their life outside of football. For others, or rather, for just one, it wasn't a very enjoyable time, more of a nuisance really. But when Alexia had been invited by Mapi to go to Menorca, where the Zaragoza local had escaped to many times before and talked about it for hours on end everytime when she got back, Alexia couldn't say no this time. They'd be joined by a few of their other teammates, but Mapi had informed them that they would be welcomed by her many friends on the small island and invited to enough endeavours to keep them entertained.

That's how Alexia found herself waking up on the sofa of a beautiful Mediterranean house on the second morning of the vacation. The previous night, she'd partied with her teammates and Mapi's friends, having a few drinks here and there but never passing the line of tipsy. But, when the time came to leave, she had no money on her, a dead phone, she couldn't find Mapi or her teammates, and even if she could ask someone to get her back to the villa they were at, she didn't know the address either. Which is why she's waking up on a random couch on an island she doesn't know, now with a working phone thanks to the phone charger she found (and stole) in a drawer beside the sofa.

It was a little before 7am, way too early for any of the people who had drank the night before to be awake, and that's why she was drawn to the kitchen on her way towards the front door.

Coming from the room was quiet, calm music as well as a soft voice singing along. The voice belonged to a woman clearing the counters from the cups and bottles from the previous night, this young someone lost in her own world as she swayed to the melody ringing out. And when she turned a little so that her features were visible to Alexia, the midfielder couldn't help the smile that graced her face.

This unfamiliar woman was beautiful. It was clear to see and simple to say, she was ineffably gorgeous. Alexia didn't recognise her from the previous evening, as much as she tried to piece the night's events together, she couldn't recall meeting her. She stood there for a few silent moments, admiring the woman in front of her. Dressed in running gear, a tan to her skin and a peaceful smile on her face.

But when the woman in question cursed at the sight of Alexia, not expecting anyone to be lingering in the doorway, the Catalan couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

You were deathly embarrassed by the yelp you let out and the reaction you had to the seemingly harmless party-goer some feet away, caught red-handed in a day dream whilst cleaning the kitchen.

“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in.” You apologised with a grimace, yet the blonde just smiled.

“No, it is okay.” Alexia brushed it off.

The footballer didn’t quite know what to do. She felt drawn to the person across the room from her, but you were complete strangers to each other. The only thing she knew was that, from the few words spoken so far, you spoke English without an accent like she did.

“Um, per- perdóname? Mi español es muy pobre.” You stumbled through the limited Spanish you knew, and it was nothing but endearing to Alexia. “I mean, I can understand it if... if you speak slowly, but…”

“Hablaré más despacio por ti.” Alexia answered, surprising herself. “I can understand English, I am not good at talking.”

“Well, that's us sorted then.”

You internally cursed yourself for being so awkward in the moment, but honestly you weren’t expecting anyone to be up and about at this time, nevermind the most attractive woman on the island. You had no idea who she was, where she came from, or even what her name was, but the intrigue was there and it was burning wildly through you.

She didn’t seem to mind your awkwardness, instead she met it with some of her own and stood rooted to the ground with the same smile that seemed to only grow bigger the longer this interaction carried on.

“Estas limpiando?” She wondered, stepping a little closer.

“I'm, uh... oh! Yes, I'm cleaning, thought I would get a head start with it.” You gestured loosely to the room before going back to clear the clutter off of the sides again.

“Puedo ayudarte a limpiar, si quieres?” Alexia asked without any second thought, not really sure why she was offering to clean a stranger's house at the crack of dawn.

She was feeling exactly the same as you did. Confused, but weirdly interested. Alexia was in the same position as you, too; she didn’t know your name, who you were, all that she did know was that you were beautiful and, to her knowledge, frustratingly not from Spain.

“No, that's okay, you're a guest. You're free to go home.” You tried to wave her off, but she wasn’t stepping down so easily.

“No, insisto. Como puedo ayudar?”

Alexia stayed firm in her offer, and before she knew it, she was busying herself with any bit of cleaning she could see. Wiping down the counters, mopping the floors, taking out the trash, she even found herself washing the piles upon piles of dishes that had accumulated. Unbeknownst to the other, you both individually felt like you were caught up in some kind of hallucination, or a fever dream at least. You, stood with the biggest footballer of women’s football (not that you knew that yet), having her clean your friend’s house. Alexia, tidying up at sunrise for a woman she was fastly growing a crush on.

“You are English?” Alexia questioned as she washed her hands, looking over at where her cleaning partner was sorting through a pile of jackets that the party guests had thrown over a loveseat in the corner of the room.

“I am. English and very ashamed at how bad my Spanish is.” You laughed in spite of yourself, pulling a face as you lifted up a random, single high-heel from the never ending pile before dropping it to the ground with a grimace.

“Why?”

“Well, considering I live in Spain and have done for some months now, it should be better than it is. I just have a hard time keeping up with my online lessons.” Hm. She lives in Spain too. Alexia was nothing if not infinitely more intrigued by that new fact. “So, do you live in Menorca? It's a beautiful island.”

“No, Barcelona.”

“Oh, no way!” Alexia looked up at the quick burst of excitement from the person she still didn’t have a name for, chuckling when the woman in question blushed and cleared her throat before speaking. “I live in Barcelona too.”

Alexia's eyebrows shoot up at the new information she had just learnt, a shy smile on her face. She nodded once before turning back to the sink, goosebumps raised on her arms that, when paired with the eruption of butterflies that had just occurred, signified she was in trouble. Rather, her heart was in trouble.

“This house, es muy bonita. Yours?” She steered the conversation away, not wanting to dwell on the sensations flooding her body. She was still talking to a stranger after all.

“No, it's a friend's house, they let me stay for the week and said I could invite people over.”

“Mm. Bueno, gracias por la fiesta, fue divertido. I did not see you?”

“I wasn't at the party, no. My friend María told me she would keep an eye on everything.” Alexia shook her head as she turned to lean back against the counter, her eyes tracking your movements around the room.

“Mapi no está aquí.” She revealed, to which you froze on the spot and groaned.

“That little... ugh. I knew I couldn't trust her.” You complained, cursing under your breath as you threw a beer cap in one of the bins. “Do you know where she is?”

“No. She leaved early.” Alexia grimaced. “Nunca confíes en María cuando se trata de fiestas.”

“Well, I've learnt my lesson now.” You grumbled, Alexia laughing quietly. Quickly glancing around the room, you decided you were happy with its semi-replenished state and stopped to take a breath before turning to face Alexia. “You're friends with María then, I'm guessing? One of the girls she invited?”

“Sí, muy buenas amigas. Demasiado bueno, diría yo.” Alexia said, mumbling the last part in an exasperated tone. You hear it though, and despite it taking a few moments to translate it, you giggle at it.

“I know that feeling. I've known her a while and she still gets under my skin. Like when she abandons her care-taking job for a house that isn't even mine.” You responded, Alexia nodding and chuckling. “I’ll stand her up in the morning so that she can’t go on her beloved boat trip that’s under my name, we’ll see how she likes it.”

“You are on the boat tomorrow?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice that shouldn't have sparked as much excitement in you as it did.

“I am. That's if I don't get arrested for assault before I get there.” You huffed, the woman before you grinning again. “Shouldn't you be getting back to your villa now? I've kept you long enough.”

“Um. I do not know the, uh, dirección.”

“Oh, that's alright. I think I have it, I don’t have my phone on me at the moment but if you grab a pen and paper from beside you then I can write it down.”

“Ah, sí. Gracias.”

Alexia did as she was told and picked a pen from the stationary pot along with a small square of paper from a very organised corner of the kitchen counter. There was a sly grin on Alexia’s face as she handed both items over to you. With pink cheeks that can’t really be excused by the run you went on before you arrived, you jotted down the address of her Airbnb with slightly shaking hands before signing your name along with it too. Then, for reasons you’re not quite sure of, you drew a random, squiggly smiley face beside it. You gave the note to her and waited for her to notice with an even darker shade to your face than before, to which she laughed quietly at the drawing. It was cut short though when she glanced at your name. She said it quietly to herself, before looking back at you and humming.

“Do I get to know your name?” You wondered with a playful smile, head slightly on a tilt and a hopeful glint in your eye.

“Ale.” She said after a moment of brief hesitation. You picked up on it, but were sure she had her reasons, so let it slide.

“Es un placer conocerte, Ale.” You held your hand out and, with a coy smile, Alexia deftly took hold of it and shook it gently.

That handshake, one small and common gesture, was the start of something much bigger than the both of you.

—

You lay in bed that night, a book beside you waiting to be read and the bedside table lamp on, with a question mark lingering over you. It was just after midnight, and despite the luxury of the house and the grand size of it, you’d chosen the smallest bedroom to stay in during your time. No one ever wanted it, it was always the last choice, but it called to you for some reason everytime. Your friend joked that there should be a plaque with your name on it at this point on the door, saying it was your room and yours only. Maybe you pitied it, maybe you knew how it felt. But it’s just a room, the walls aren’t alive no matter how much they speak to you, and as quick as it arrives the thought leaves.

The question mark that hangs shrinks suddenly, redacting down into your right hand. Your eyes follow it, moving from the ceiling above you to the palm that fuzzes in an attention-seeking nature. It’s the one that had been held so delicately by the woman that had quietly interrupted you that morning, and before you know it there’s a familiar heat to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the late night warmth of the Spanish weather. It does have everything to do with her.

There was still everything that you didn’t know about her. She was from Barcelona, her name was Ale, and you both shared a mutual friend in María. And if you pieced together things you knew about your good friend, there was other information you could gather about Ale too. María played football for Barcelona’s football club, and they were fairly successful. Though you wouldn’t know a thing, you hadn’t been to a game before nor had you even watched one. The only sides of María you know is the laid back, relaxed version that dismisses any talk about football on vacation, and the party animal you had first met. Football wasn’t your thing, and María wasn’t one to force that upon anyone. She kept that separate from you, and the closest you came to being interlinked with the sport was when she invited her teammates along to join your friend group for whatever social occasion she had organised, both here and back home in Barcelona.

So perhaps Ale played football. Or, at least, worked for María’s team. She did look quite athletic, to say the least. That was probably the most polite way to phrase it. Regardless, Alexia had never appeared at any dinners or club night-outs that María had organised, you would remember if she had.

To the world, Alexia was an enigma. She is to you, too, but for entirely different reasons. The world had known her for twelve years as she performed at the highest standard in football, a role model on and off the pitch to every boy and girl, old and young. You had known her for less than twenty-four hours, but you were struck with the sense that knowing her for a lifetime could be a gift untold by any literature.

Your book doesn’t get opened that night. Thoughts of a certain someone are enough to lull you asleep. And some miles away, that very person ends up in the same scenario.

The shy smiles you greeted each other with bright and early the next morning at the boat charter desk subconsciously notifies you both that there are strangely similar butterflies making a home for themselves in your stomachs.

For the first half of the day, the pair of you don’t really come together again. Rather, you stick with your usual friends, but Alexia would be lying if she said her eyes didn’t drift over towards you any chance she could get. You’re the same though, but when you’re caught out by one of your friends, you deny it with a blush and try to shove Ale to the back of your mind.

Until everyone decides they’re bored of tanning and relaxing, and they all jump into the ocean the second the boat is anchored. You, as someone not entirely comfortable in the water, decided to stick it out for now and stay on the boat. Considering how hot it was, you would have thought everybody would have jumped in to cool down. But not everyone.

“Hola.” A voice said from behind, before they came to lay beside you at the front of the boat.

“Morning. I don’t have any cleaning for you to do, I’m afraid.” You teased, linking your hands together over your eyes to avoid them averting to other places. Oh, and to block the sun too.

“Thank you, señorita.” Alexia grinned, adjusting her sunglasses as she turned to look at you. “Qué tal?”

“I'm very well, thank you. Y tu?”

“I am good also. You do not like the water?” She wondered, hearing it call her name but when she saw you alone, she couldn't resist.

“Not really.” You replied sheepishly, and the smirk that built on Alexia’s face after that was a little unnerving. “You can get in, if you want. You don’t have to sit here with me.”

“Hm, no. Y si te caes del barco? I will be your… salvavidas.” Before you registered what you were doing, you scoffed and lightly hit her forearm. The Spaniard laughed at your horrified expression afterwards, waving you off before you got the chance to apologise.

“I don’t need a lifeguard on dry land.” You grumbled, crossing your arms petulantly.

Alexia hummed in amused agreement, and the pair of you fell into comfortable silence. There was far worse company than that of an enticing Spanish woman, whose idea of relaxation was apparently similar to yours. For some time then, she was content to lie beside you in the heat of the sun, her sunglasses and cap keeping her face protected from the UV… and your gaze.

You tried, albeit not very hard, to keep your eyes on the words of your book in front of you, but every so often they glanced over at Ale. She was the embodiment of peace, with her hands behind her head and a hint of a smile on her lips. It was your intrigue about her that grasped your attention; out of everyone on the boat, all of her close friends and the others she could have chosen to get to know instead, she was here beside you. That didn’t happen to you very often.

Your solitude was something you valued, though it wasn’t entirely out of choice. Things happened, good and very bad, to get you to this point, and it all made you into the person you are now. People rarely ever gravitated to you like Ale had. More often than not, you were just a fly on the wall. And, really, that was why you weren’t at the party the other night. They weren’t your thing, not just because of the noise and chaos, but because you weren’t really a drink and dance kind of person. You were a sunbathe and read person.

Being a part of the crowd wasn’t something that appealed to you anymore. For years, you had tried to fit in, but after one too many interactions with the worst half of humankind’s people, it was better to stay in your shell. Some days, you pondered if you had just convinced yourself if solitude was the better option as a result of your own failures, or if it was something you genuinely enjoyed. It was a dichotomy that you didn’t often like thinking about too much.

“You are reading.” Alexia stated simply, meeting your eyes when you turned to look at her with a laugh.

“Yes, I am. Congratulations.” You grinned at her, the other woman rolling her eyes.

“You are reading, but the water is there.” She sat up and rested her elbows on her knees as she glanced around at the glassy ocean that stretched on into the horizon.

“Do you want a medal for that, Captain Obvious?” You replied without looking away from your book, although the words weren’t really registering anymore.

There was a snarky reply on the tip of Alexia’s tongue at that, but now wasn’t the time to spoil the whole facade she had built up around you. To you, she was just Ale, nobody else. Was it wrong for her to want to relish in the ease that brought for her? Possibly. The life you lived was so different to the one she had, it was nice to remember the simplicity that her world once held.

“Do you not read on vacation? There’s no better time to do it.” You continued whilst she got stuck in her thoughts, glancing at her as she stayed silent. With a gentle nudge against her ankle with your foot, you brought her back down from wherever her mind had floated off to.

“Sí, I do. But there is more fun things to do. What is that phrase? Algo sobre el pelo…” She mumbled to herself, with a scowl and a frown as she jogged her memory that you found way too endearing considering the fierceness it possessed.

“Let your hair down?” You provided, giggling when she briskly turned to you and nodded whilst snapping her fingers.

“Sí! Let your hair down, get in the water. Conmigo, juntos.” She tried to transfer some of her excitement over to you, and you hated to admit it, but she was quite convincing.

“I’m alright here. You go, you don’t need me.” Apparently, the Spaniard wasn’t one to back down.

“No, venga, you are coming. The boat has, uh, those silly chaquetas. You will have one.” She stood up abruptly, bored of sitting still, and held her hands out expectantly.

“I’m not wearing a life jacket! That’s embarrassing, Ale.” You laughed, though you sat up and took her hands to stand up, trying not to stare at the skin on show that passed your eyeline as you did.

“No, está bien! You, you want to sit aquí and be muy aburrido? No! Diviértete! Vamos.”

With far more confidence than she actually had deep down, Alexia kept hold of your hand and led you through the empty boat to where she had seen some life jackets earlier. You were a giggling mess behind her, staring at her muscular back and all the artwork that decorated it. Her hand was warm and almost entirely encapsulated yours, a fact you would have to ignore for now.

You had known her for hardly a day, yet here you were jogging hand in hand and laughing like teenagers. It was… refreshing. And so unusual to anything you had ever known in your life. You were a reclusive person that liked routine, familiarity. Not life jackets and treacherous water. Well, maybe not treacherous, the clear ocean was as still as could be, but that’s besides the point.

This woman, Ale, barely counted as an acquaintance. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel extraordinarily enticed to dive right in, even if it went against every single one of your instincts. Not in that sense though, only in a metaphorical way.

“Ale, I’m not doing it.” You cowered away from the edge of the small platform at the back end of the boat, whilst Alexia sat beside you with her legs already in the water. Despite your earlier grievances, there was now an embarrassingly neon yellow life vest strapped around your torso that screamed ‘I’m English and terrified of water!’

“Jump! Es bonito, créeme.” She urged you with an enchanting smile that was a little hard to resist.

In an all too distracting fashion, she whipped her white cap off and sat up straight to tie her hair into a bun, and you had to avert your eyes away from her once more. She caught you already, if the crimson to your cheeks was anything to go by and the awkward nature you adorned anytime she moved.

“If you’re so sure, why aren’t you getting in?” You challenged her, only for her to smirk.

“Porque no soy… a pussy.”

At that, she lowered herself into the warm sea with a smug look on her face, whilst you stared at her in shock at how such an innocent seeming woman who claimed to know no English just insulted you in such a way. All she did was turn onto her back and gaze up at you with a knowing grin. The way she looked so effortlessly relaxed floating on her back did seem like fun. But you weren’t so easily convinced.

“Venga, cariño. In.” She waved you over with one hand, smiling coyly as you sighed but sat down on the edge nevertheless. “Sí, step one! Now in!”

“Alright, alright! You’re like a pushy swim coach, let me do it in my own time.” Her teasing demeanour softened then, and she swam the short distance back to where you stood. She held onto the platform with one hand whilst she offered the other out to you.

“I will be here. It is okay, lo prometo.”

Alexia’s smile wasn’t mocking or exasperated, it was bashful and welcoming. Her eyes and her hand were inviting, and you had a feeling that there was some kind of foreshadowing underlying if you didn’t let her guide you into the warm water around. Like the ones you see in the movies, in the books you read. Whether it was that weird, nagging feeling that had you sitting at the edge and fearfully lowering yourself in or if it was Ale’s carefree nature that you had wished for all your life, you had no idea.

“Ves? Te lo dije.” The blonde had to suppress her laughter at the terror in your eyes that you tried to hide, but that laughter was easy to ignore due to the overriding joy she felt at such a simple event. She just hoped this wasn’t the last she saw of you.

“Sure, sure.” You mumbled, your legs flicking aimlessly to tread the water, when in matter of fact it was your vest doing most of the work. “Okay, it isn’t too bad, actually.”

“Te lo dije, cariño! Ahora, on your back. Arms like an angel. Like, with the snow.” Her instructions were a little skewed, probably due to the language barrier, but you gathered what she was saying. A moment later, you were floating on your back in the water like she had been doing a few moments ago. It was pretty relaxing. “Ahh, sí. Podría hacer esto todo el día.”

“And you say reading is boring on vacation.” You mumbled, gasping when she splashes at you.

“This is better, do not lie.” Alexia shrugged as best as she could considering her current situation.

Little did she know, she had started a war.

Feeling somewhat cocky with your handy floatation device, you awkwardly paddle closer before forcing a wave her way. Immediately after you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter at how it borderline water-boarded her. Once she had wiped her eyes, she looked over at you with revenge burning in her eyes. You were done for.

Considering you were both adults, the childish fight went on far longer than expected of you both. There were more than just your eyes on each other, the commotion had caught the eyes of a few of the others. One person in particular had a pleased grin on her face. On the surface, of course she was happy to see two of her closest friends get along so well. Deep down, however, she wanted nothing more than to see it develop into something better.

She had been there to witness things she never wanted to see for the both of you. And as a result of the individual difficulties experienced by each of you, there were some wounds left over that she believed could be healed by something right in front of your eyes. The purity that lived in your hearts which, once comfortable with another, could be so clearly seen on your sleeves was something Mapi believed would do wonders for every aspect of your respective lives.

Alexia’s soul had been stamped on by past relationships and her flame had simmered to a dim glow, her chest a hollow and desolate place. You had stomached countless blows, many that would’ve taken the average person out, and yet you were stronger for it. You’d made a life for yourself, sure. An outside glance would show a successful woman at the height of her career, loving life abroad with enough friends around the globe to fill up a village. Should anyone get a look inside your mind, they’d see it was void of love, of true joy. Like Alexia, your personality had been broken down and shoved into a closet, for no one to see or have the privilege of truly getting to know.

Mapi knew, in an ideal world, you and Alexia could find yourselves in a relationship that would take you so high on a personal level. Except, it’s not an ideal world, it’s a cruel one that had gotten you both to this shattered point anyway. She could only hope that the road to get there wasn’t a long, arduous one that neither of you would deem worth it.

“Alright, alright! Truce!” You shouted, desperately trying to swim away from Alexia and her lethal attacks.

“Ah, I won!” She cheered, throwing her arms in the air in celebration, only for her to sink down. Laughter bubbled out of you before you could stop it, and if the water hadn’t taken her breath away, the sound you made sure would have. “I get a prize, no?”

“What? No! If I had known there was a prize, I would have tried harder.” You rolled your eyes, only to be met with a cheeky grin when you looked back at her.

“No, te equivocas. Lo gano todo, siempre.” Apparently, in every turn of life, Alexia’s competitiveness had no qualms with showing itself.

“Ah, so you are a footballer.”

It meant to come out in a teasing way, but it didn’t quite land right. Alexia’s smile faltered, a dejected look forming in her eyes. Dread washed over you; this happened every time. Just as you were getting somewhere with a person, you said something that would erase all your progress. This time had the chance to hurt a lot more than all the others, even after just a day.

“I am.” Alexia nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes like the others you had seen.

“I’m sorry for saying that, I didn’t mea-”

“No, no, no te preocupes. You… I was going to tell you pronto, pero…” She trailed off and glanced away, shrugging slightly.

“You wanted to do it in your own time. Get a break from that part of your life.” You finished her sentence for her, and just like that, she was gazing at you again with admiration in her eyes.

“Yes.” She whispered with a nod, her eyes wide but not unnerving, rather they were almost full of awe.

Everyone in Alexia’s life questioned why she didn’t relish in the glory and popularity that being who she was brought. Her closest family understood of course, but everybody else thought it was strange. Why work so hard for something and not reap the rewards? She didn’t see them as rewards, that’s why. The eyes, the photos taken without her knowledge, the strangers coming up to her in the street and heckling for her to sign something or take selfies when she’d rather disappear off the face of the earth- she didn’t see why anyone would find joy or pride in that when it’s everything she’s ever hated.

She knew it was a symbol of her achievements, but was it worth it when she would get followed to her apartment, to her family home? Or around the world, like when there was paparazzi on her private vacation the summer before this one?

And yet, you understood it. You didn’t know her, or the extremes of her job, or the attention she got, but somehow it just clicked.

It wasn’t some kind of superficial, fairytale moment of ‘soulmate understanding’ for you, Mapi had informed you on the struggles of rising fame a while ago in the midst of the national team struggles when she had escaped with Ingrid to the very island you were on now, which you happened to be on at the same time. You had some level of understanding, only a little, but that was more than enough for Alexia.

“I get it. We don’t have to talk about it.” You told her softly, to which she sighed in relief. “Can we get out of the water now though? I’m thirsty.”

Just like that, the awkward moment had passed.

—

The rest of the day on the boat passes in a flash, and before you knew it, it was pulling up at the docks whilst everyone waited to get off. Each person was just as exhausted as the other as everyone piled off one by one across the tiny plank that everyone secretly feared, especially in such a tired state, but with no casualties, they all went their separate ways. Mapi was coming with you for dinner that night, just the two of you, but she was trailing behind on facetime to Ingrid, so you were walking on your own. Until…

“Hey!” Alexia jogged up to you and gently halted you with a hand on your forearm, coming to stand in front of you with a smile that lost its confidence as soon as you met her gaze. “Oh, um… this is for you.”

As quick as she came, she was gone. All that was left was the note she thrust into your hands before she walked back towards wherever she was initially headed.

In utter confusion, you turned to watch her leave, laughing at the way she scurried away. With a shake of your head, you opened the note and felt your heart rate pick up at just a few words.

Me debes un premio, ¿no? Ven a cenar conmigo mañana por la noche, estaré en el restaurante cerca de tu casa esperandote. Espero verte allí. - Ale

Her handwriting was messy, like a spider had fallen in ink and scampered across the paper, but from what you could make out of the Spanish words… she had asked you on a date. Tomorrow. At the restaurant near your friend’s house that you were staying at.

Luckily for you, there was only one restaurant that fit Ale’s description - your favourite restaurant out of all the places in the world you had travelled to. You had brought it up with her earlier that day, and apparently this woman had a stellar memory. It was an off-handed comment you made, describing it exactly as ‘the restaurant near your house’ during a random, filler conversation you had had with the Spaniard as you dried off after going in the water again.

If that was the prize she wanted, it would be rude not to entertain that.

“Qué quería Alexia?” Mapi asked, interrupting your internal gushing.

Alexia. Her actual name.

“Um, well…” You started, only to trail off as your cheeks turned a crimson colour. With words failing you, out of embarrassment or wonder, you weren’t sure, you handed Mapi the note.

“Qué es esto…” Mapi cut herself off as she read the words in her mother tongue, before looking up at you with her jaw to the ground and her eyes popping out of her head. “Dios mío!”

“María, be quiet!” You shushed her urgently, snatching the note back, only for her to do the same as she read it again and again. “If you rip that, I sw-”

“Ale moves quick! Damn!” She burst out into giddy laughter, grabbing your shoulders and shaking them excitedly. “You have a date!”

“I should never have told you, for god’s sake.” You muttered, turning and walking away from her. She cheered wildly behind you before running to catch up.

“I think it goes without saying that I am happy for you.” She stated, a lot more toned down than she was a moment ago.

“Yeah, you think?” You huffed, crossing your arms as the defender slung an arm around your shoulders. “How long have you known her?”

“Ale? Uff, a very long time. I knew her a tiny bit from international camp but when I joined Barcelona, we became good friends. Whether she likes it or not, I am her best friend.” She hummed. It was hard to ascertain if this was her normal behaviour or if she was a little buzzed from the drinks supplied on the boat.

“So she plays for your team?”

“Alexia is Barça. She is Barça, Barça is her.”

You didn’t quite understand what she meant by that, but it sounded… important.

It was that reply from Mapi that stuck for the rest of the evening. You thought about it on the way back to your place, throughout dinner whilst the aforementioned woman spoke basically with herself, and as you got ready for bed that night.

However, it was as you took out your earrings in the bathroom mirror of the tiny en-suite of your favourite bedroom, that you realised there was something under the surface of that comment. There would likely be one true meaning of what that meant for Alexia, but the possibilities were endless for your overthinking mind.

Was the way she was towards you just an act? What was her true persona? Who really is Alexia?

—

She was just a girl, is what you learn as you walked into the restaurant the next day.

You had no place to question her based on another person’s comments, even if those words were from her best friend. It would be hypocritical of you, after being on the receiving end of such events all your life, to judge someone before you knew them.

She was just a girl, nervous to go on a date. That much was clear when you saw her from the doorway, tapping her foot anxiously as her hands fidgeted with the rings she wore whilst waiting for you to show up. She had no idea if you would or not, she didn’t have any way to contact you at all. You could never reject her though.

“Ale, hi.” You said as a waitress led you over to the table, stifling a giggle as Alexia’s chair screeched loudly as she stood up to greet you.

“Hi!” She replied, before clearing her throat and hastily wiping her hands on her trousers. She was dressed relaxed, but suited to the occasion, in a soft cream polo shirt and a darker shade of linen trousers. Her hair was in a half-up, half-down of sorts with two strands at the front out to frame her face, and it was hard not to gawk at her. “You look… so beautiful. Really.”

“Thank you, you look amazing too.” You beamed shyly, gladly accepting the hug she offers and blushing a little at the kiss she leaves on your cheek.

“Sit, sit. We need, uh, menus, where ar-” The blonde’s nerves were evidently on show as her eyes looked around frantically, and though yours weren’t quite so obvious, it’s reassuring to know she felt just the same as you.

You often kept things built up inside, buried deep down to hide or deal with later. Alexia also did that, typically, but there was something about you that made all her habits and inhibitions fly out the window. It scared her, but the larger part of her took that as a sign that you weren’t someone to lose. She would have you in her life in any capacity, friend or partner, and if she screwed up then she didn’t think she could forgive herself.

“Ale, Ale, calm down. We have all night, relax.” You gently took hold of her hands and brought her back down to this moment, to which she nodded and breathed in deeply. “You’re nervous, it’s okay. I am too.”

“Lo sé, lo sé. I haven’t been on a date in so long, cariño, I do not want to mess this up.” She sighed, looking across at you with honesty in her eyes and her soul on show, and it took your breath away a little. Maybe this woman in front of you was everything you had longed for all these years. Someone whose whole being was built with the same foundations as yours, with the same outlook on life and the same values. The same simple, peaceful ideation of what life with love could look like.

“You won’t mess this up, Ale. Just be yourself, the woman I was with yesterday, and you won’t mess this up.” You told her, and she nodded a lot less desperately afterwards. Her facial features and her whole entire body softened then, you saw it and felt it in the way it travelled throughout her and into her hands. Of which, took yours in return, raised them to her mouth, and kissed each individual knuckle. This was a date, after all, as her actions then had so kindly reminded you.

“Thank you for coming. I was worried that I may have been too, uh, cocky?” She grimaced at the English word on her tongue, only making you smile.

“No, not cocky at all. I appreciate you being honest and forward, it’s rare nowadays and… if I’m honest, I don’t really like the process of getting into a relationship. Everyone is all hard-to-get and mind games, it’s not for me.” You’re rambling already, not used to this scenario, and you already feel embarrassed. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’ve totally made myself look like an idiot, I’m s-”

“No!” She cut you off abruptly, shaking her head as you turned your attention back to her. “I think that also. But you, I think that… you are different. Good different. That is why I asked for a date. We do not know each other a lot, but I really want to.”

You smiled at her.

“I do too.”

From there, things are peaceful. Simple and tranquil, just like you both hoped. It’s easy being with each other, because there’s a deeper understanding that’s by some magic naturally there. Nothing is forced, nothing is awkward. Well, that’s a lie, there’s a little awkwardness but you’ve come to learn that that’s just a thing between you both. Perhaps it’ll go away with time, but there’s only one way to find out.

After a bit of back and forth, it’s decided that Alexia will pay for the dinner, her rule of thumb apparently since she asked you, and the drinks seem to never end. A mix of alcohol and normal drinks, but as the evening goes on, neither of you want to leave. That damn cliche phrase that you had thought could never be true was in fact the perfect metaphor, no matter how much that grates your teeth; the world does go away when you’re together. The lives you individually lead fade into the background with the room around you, and rather than learning the basic facts about each other, for hours you spill detail after detail of countless personal stories that create a summary of you both that are far more detailed and honest than first date small talk could ever do.

It all comes down to that basic understanding that was there from the first day in the kitchen. It’s inexplicably hard to comprehend the fact it’s hardly been three days since that initial meeting, but there is serenity at the surface level that is built by the roots below which seem to have intertwined, between two countries in one continent, to provide the foundations of what could be. Years, centuries, of history and alignments have set the standards of love, now it’s up to the both of you to live up to the possibilities that have been placed down for you.

It’s something you don’t necessarily understand, which is ironic, but you’ve got your whole life to think about that. This isn’t a moment to miss or pass up on by overthinking. For once in your life, you're not going to do that. Not when your future could be staring you in the face.

“Your English is not as bad as you told me it was.” You stated, folding your arms on the table and gazing at Alexia who had just finished her second glass of wine of the night, already having had a cocktail and some water before it.

“Thank you. I get nervous to speak, I think.” Alexia replied with a shrug that wasn’t as nonchalant as she thought it would be; it was a little revealing of the insecurity she just stated.

“Well, I like hearing you speak it. It’s very endearing, it’s cute.” You told her with a sly smile. Alexia smirked and nodded, seemingly thinking for a moment before she leaned in slightly.

“Y el español? El español es ‘cute’? Creo que es mucho mejor que el inglés. Pero, sabes, depende de ti, amor. Lo que prefieras.” She purposely lowered her voice, meaning it was a little raspy and wonderfully addictive, especially in her second preferred language. You rolled your eyes affectionately, pretending that the goosebumps on your arms and the back of your neck weren’t there.

“I suppose that’s quite… nice, too.” You admitted a moment later, the footballer grinning at you as you blushed behind the hands that covered your face in faux embarrassment. “Your English is better than María’s.”

“No, no, no. Serio? La mencionas aquí en la cena? Estamos en una cita, dios mío.” Alexia descended off into a ramble about her friend, specifically to hear you laugh, which you did. “A date I am paying!”

“It was a compliment!” You argued with a beaming smile, one that Alexia matched instantly as you played along.

“Lo que sea.” She rolled her eyes, reaching for the bottle of wine that had been ordered after the main meal, now nearly empty. She poured a glass each, which was only a quarter full, but it was a sign that this part of the evening was coming to an end. What came afterwards, neither of you were sure. It seemed you weren’t the only one that didn’t want it to end, and to be honest it’s a wonder that it’s only now the filler topics start. “You had a dinner date with Mapi last night, no? How was it?”

“It was good, it was good. Um… kind of embarrassingly, actually, she wouldn’t stop talking… about, uh, you.”

Wrong thing to say?

“Oh. You told her about tonight?” There was a hint of a frown tugging at her lips, which made your stomach drop.

“Kind of. A little. She was just teasing me, mostly, you know what she’s like.” You laughed nervously, glad to see it put a smile on Alexia’s face as she nodded in agreement. It went quiet for a moment, and it was clear you were stuck in thought as you traced your finger around the bottom of your wine glass. “She was really happy for us, actually. Couldn’t stop gushing about it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like, she was so happy that it was all she wanted to talk about. Something about how her two best friends dating would be ‘the best thing in the world’, so… yeah.” You shrugged, kicking yourself for bringing it up. Not for long though.

“It could be.” Alexia hummed after a moment. You glanced up from your glass to see her staring at you openly, and not put off by the topic at hand. “It could be the best thing in the world. We do not know until we try.”

All you could do at that was nod, because it caught you so off-guard. So you did nod, a little gormlessly, at which Alexia laughed quietly, and it snapped you back to reality.

“You’re right. We don’t know until we try.” You agreed, Alexia humming again and nodding.

The silence after that didn’t need to be filled, unlike the last one. In fact, it wasn’t.

You both drank the last mouthful of your wine, sharing a knowing glance over the glasses, before they clinked down against the table and you both stood up. Alexia waited for you as you grabbed your bag, and all you could think was thank god this wasn’t some American movie where you had to pay the cheque after dinner. You shook that thought away, physically, to which Alexia pulled a confused at, only for you to shake your head and grab her hand.

There was a sense of urgency about the situation now, felt by the both of you. On the way out of the restaurant, Alexia could barely drop a ‘gracias’ to the waiting staff before she was dragged outside the quaint building by you. But, when you step foot outside, you didn’t know where to go from there. You didn’t know if Alexia wanted the same thing you were hoping for in that moment, and if she didn’t, it might have killed all the excitement for you.

Out on the street, bustling with the night life of the summer evening, you turned to her, a little awkwardly, and searched her eyes. All you found was contentment, and a hint of the desire you felt. Still, you didn’t want to assume anything.

“So… what are you thinking?” You wondered. The blonde maintained eye contact with you, and you felt compelled to hold it, despite the awkwardness you harboured. Then, a moment after, she chuckled under her breath with a shake of her head. “Wha-”

In a split second, her lips were on yours. They didn’t move, they were delicate, and it took you a slow moment to catch up. Just as you kissed her back, her mouth was gone. She stood facing the road again like she hadn’t just thrown everything you thought you knew on its head. You gawked up at her, out of confusion and adoration for what you had just experienced, then turned to face the street as well. There was no emotion on her face, just stoicism and a seemingly total lack of care for what had happened. You clasped your hands in front of you, a frown beginning to form.

Yet, just as it did, there were a pair of warm hands encapsulating your cheeks and the same pair of lips from before back on yours. You got up to speed much quicker this time; the kiss was soft and seamless, moving at a slow pace as the warmth in your heart far outweighed the warmth of the Spanish climate around you.

You didn’t kiss on the first date, but apparently that was just a rule you had made after going on too many dates with the wrong people. Because this, well, this was so much better than preserving some stupid rule you had stolen from all the books you read.

Your arms reached up to wrap around Alexia’s neck as the kiss deepened a little, perhaps much more outside your comfort zone considering you were on a public street, but that was the thing about Alexia.

This woman was constantly pushing your boundaries, but not in a panic-inducing way. She did it in a way as if she had peeked inside your mind and picked out all the boundaries that you loathed, and instead replaced them with memories you could have only ever dreamed of. That day in the kitchen, if it had been anyone else standing in your doorway, you would have definitely turned them away. It had taken one look in her eyes, and you knew she was going to change the entire trajectory of your life in the most unexpected way.

“Do you, maybe, want to come back to my place?” You whispered, a little breathlessly, with your forehead resting against hers.

“Sí, me encantar-”

Her phone’s ringtone interrupted her.

It rang out from her pocket, and she groaned as she grabbed it, intending to decline the call. However, along with it she saw a barrage of texts she had unknowingly received throughout the night. At the sight, she had no choice but to answer it.

You stifled a frustrated groan as she brought it up to her ear and answered whoever it was in Spanish, taking a few steps away. With a moment’s peace, you dug your own phone out of your bag and frowned at the first notification you saw.

María: Please forgive me for what I have to do!!

Hardly a minute later, Alexia came back over with the same frustration you felt written all over her face.

“Mapi just rang. One of my younger teammates has got very drunk. I need to go and care for her tonight.” She revealed with a sharp breath out, slotting her phone back into her pocket and shaking her head down at you.

“It’s okay.” You told her with a reassuring smile, frowning again when she shook her head.

“It is not. I am sorry. I wanted to… to spend the night with you, not with-” She cut herself off with a groan, both hands coming up to rub at her face in annoyance.

“Ale.” You murmured, gently pulling her arms back by her forearms, before your hands slid down her soft skin to hold her hands between you both. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m just happy I spent the evening with you today. I really enjoyed it. I think I needed it.”

The anger inside her melted away as a result of your admission. She nodded and brought you in for a hug, which you happily indulged in.

“I will make it up to you. I promise.” She stated firmly, pulling back from the hug to gaze down at you. It took her barely time at all to convince herself to kiss you once more. And in it, she conveyed every feeling and emotion she would have shown you that night, had she been able to.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow anyway, at the dinner, remember?” You reminded her of the next day's event, something you were both invited to once again. She nodded, and at that, you parted ways.

That day, you didn’t end up speaking much about your current life, or hers, and you never found out what María meant by her statement the night before, because quite frankly it wasn’t on your mind. It doesn’t matter to you. You learnt all you needed to know that you were in love with her, even if it had been just three days.

—

Despite the previous night's perfections, there was one fatal flaw that you had failed to make known so far. It would bite you in the ass as much as it would hurt Alexia.

After the dinner with everyone that had come along on the trip, including yourself and Alexia, you would be going back to the house you were at to pack for your flight only a few hours afterwards. Tonight was your final night.

In your bag, there was a surprise that would hopefully make it somewhat less painful than it could be. That might be wishful thinking though.

Most people were there by the time you arrived at the idyllic restaurant, a laid-back vibe to the place with fake plants and vines covering the walls and vintage bulb lights strewn across the ceiling. All of that was at the back of your mind; there was, realistically, only one reason you agreed to this dinner tonight.

“You're here.” Alexia whispered in your ear as she took a seat beside you, once again choosing you in a room filled with many more interesting people.

“I am.” You turned to her with a smile, a certain fluttery feeling in your stomach as a delicate hand landed on your knee.

“I am so happy to see you.” She admitted, glancing around to see everyone else busy with greetings, so she looked back at you and quickly ducked down to place a kiss on your shoulder. “I have waited all day for this, for you.”

“That’s a pretty big compliment, Ale.” You said sheepishly, cowering back into your seat and feeling a little out of place in such a large group.

“It is true. I swear it.” She beamed, and that alone was all the persuasion you needed to stay.

And you did, no matter how much your skin crawled with the amount of people and conversations and extroversion on show, you stayed.

Everytime you got a wave of anxiety or unbelonging, there was a steady presence beside you that remained there at all times. It was strange, having so much trust in what most people would class as a stranger considering the time frame of it all, but for you she was like a shelter in the storm.

It’s just a shame that you had a cloud of dread looming over you all night, and she was soon to be the victim of it.

At one point, after the main meal, you managed to sneak away from it all. You slipped out quietly, without a fuss or a fanfare, having perfected the Irish goodbye during all these years. You could be found at the rooftop bar just above, your guilt not allowing you to head home just yet due to the one person who you had told to meet you there when she was ready.

For much less time than you expected, you nursed a single mocktail, at peace with your solitude once more, even with the Menorcan nightlife booming all around. But, as you had learnt within the last few days, there was one person that could always pull you out of the anxious pit you thought yourself into.

“Hola, cariño.” Alexia slid onto the stool across from you at the small, intimate table you had chosen by the railing, with an incredible view of the surrounding area. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, fine.” You brushed her off with a tight-lipped smile, one Alexia could see through instantly, as one hand anxiously clasped your glass and the other scratched the back of your neck.

“No, you do not look fine.” Alexia frowned, delicately resting a hand on your forearm.

“That’s kind of you.” You laughed, but it was humourless.

“No, you understand what I said. You do not seem yourself.” She said, a little softer than her last words. You shrugged and averted your eyes to the scenery to your right. Her hand squeezed your arm, trying to gain your attention again. It didn’t work, “You can talk to me. I will listen. I am good at that.”

“You are good at listening.” You smiled at her then, to her relief, falling deeper and deeper into her eyes everytime she grinned at you. “It really doesn’t matter, Ale. It’s… it’s silly.”

“Not to me. Venga, talk. Off your mind.”

Pushing your boundaries, again. Not to laugh at you, or mock you, or cause years worth of emotional anguish. She was doing it simply because she cared. There was no double meaning to it. It was just who she was.

“I guess those kinds of things, the dinner with everyone, just aren’t really… my crowd.” You met her eye nervously, just to be met with earnesty and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. “I feel out of place there, I always do. I just wish I could be in the background, but at the same time I want to be a part of it. Everyone looks so… free of their burdens, and I just carry them around with me like chains dragging me down and I don’t know how to get out of that mindset.”

The silence that met your rambling was deathly unnerving, and part of you was considering hopping on a flight right this second, to anywhere that’ll have you. Somewhere cooler than this heat, off the grid, with no one around… Alaska? Somewhere in Canada? Or perhaps a place in Chile, or Peru, or-

“You were never in the background to me. Never.” Alexia stated honestly. “You can be like them. But I like your quieter qualities too. Who you want to be one day, I think I will like her anyway.”

For a moment, they were precisely the words you wished to hear all along. Then that passed. In its wake, the same sense of dread from earlier. Almost as if you were already going through the heartbreak that would surely come.

“I have something else to tell you, Ale.” You mumbled. She nodded, emphatically, more than prepared to take on board any more of your insecurities, worries, anxieties, anything. “I’m going home tonight. My flight is at five in the morning.”

“W…what?” Alexia murmured, hoping, praying that she hadn’t heard what she was sure she had.

“I have to leave soon, to get ready for my flight home.” You repeated, expecting her to pull away or to get angry. She didn’t. But you could see the melancholy swirling in her eyes, no doubt drowning her heart too.

“Why did you not tell me sooner? I thought we had more time.” She said dejectedly, her grasp on your arm a little firmer than it was before. It was clear to you she wasn’t ready to let go yet, and that made it all indefinitely worse. Much harder than you expected.

“I-” Your voice cracked over the short syllable. “I’m sorry, Ale. I didn’t really know how to tell you.”

“Do not be sorry, and do not cry, please. It will hurt more if you cry, then I will cry, it will be a mess.” You laughed at her words, and she managed to crack a smile too. “When do you have to go?”

“Soon. Soon.” You answered, sniffling and wiping your eyes before the tears fell. Then you remembered. “But I have something for you! It’s in my bag, just for you.”

Alexia chuckled at how you frantically looked through your bag for the item you were looking for, pulling it out not a moment later. She took it from you gently, like it was some kind of ancient relic she had to handle with care, knowing how much it meant to you.

“Your book?” She smiled softly at you, this one object worth so much more to her than anything she possessed, just due to the sentiment of it.

“My favourite book. I think you’ll like it. It’s in English though, so that might put you off.” You teased, but instead of playing along, she shook her head and tore her eyes away from the gift to gaze at you with nothing but unabashed amazement exuberating from her.

“No, I will read this. Thank you, for giving a piece of yourself to me.”

“Here, let me write something in it for you.”

You rooted through your bag for a pen you knew was in there, finding it in a heartbeat. Alexia slid the book over to you and watched you with great intent, only for you to turn the cover over so she couldn’t see what you wrote on the first page. She rolled her eyes and looked away, entirely missing the way you flicked through to the final page and scribbled something down quickly. The click of the pen brought her attention back to you, and she went to take it back before you slammed your hand down on the cover.

“No, don’t read it while I’m here. Wait until I’m gone.” You demanded. With a sigh, she gave in, knowing she would let you lead her off of a cliff if you just said the words. She went to speak again, only to be stopped by a ringtone, yet again. “I’m sorry, Ale. That’s my alarm. I need to go.”

Goodbyes were the worst. No amount of preparation and acceptance could force away the onslaught of emotions that built up merely at the idea of them. You found yourself grasping for the right words, but you knew deep down that none can appropriately capture the magnitude of what you’re feeling. It’s a blur, that sacred moment, and it feels awfully final. Though you know that life, with all its beauty, will cross your paths again some day, there’s no certainty in anything.

And that thought, as you pull away from her arms and take it step by step across the bar, constricts your heart tightly, as if it’s still her hand holding it and refusing to let go. You feel the ache of her absence already, though you still share the same air, and the tears on your face glimmer in the warm light of the fairy lights above you.

Alexia hadn’t quite felt heartbreak like it. She had known love, she had known loss. But never had she felt so sick to her stomach at the idea of someone walking so simply out of her life. Still, she had no way to contact you, only knowing your first name and that you lived in Barcelona. Yet, at the same time, she knew everything about you. In your opinion, there wasn’t another human on earth that so deeply understood the essence of your being. But she couldn’t do anything about it. You were out of her reach now. A face in the distance.

In secret you both met and in silence you will now grieve, because no one could understand how deeply intertwined you had become with each other’s souls in such a short time.

Isn't it strange, how a few fleeting moments can change every hope and dream about the future. And yet, in the glimpse of an eye, it can disintegrate into a past memory before we even know it.

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Part two? because what if i said, theoretically, i already have the whole entire plotline figured out for it🌝 let me know what you think :)

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso community #alexia putellas #woso imagine

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