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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months

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Finding Home Again: Part Two

Summary: Spencer and Y/N reconnect again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), friends to lovers

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, slight angst, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress & makeup, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), boyband reid in mind, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever read

let me know if I missed any

Word count: 25.4k

a/n: she's thick ,, i would write them forever ,, seriously pls request a blurb about them ,, even if you don't i'll probably write them anyway

part one can be found here!!

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), male masturbation, voyerism (Y/N watches Spencer), unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), heavy grinding

It had been years again, and Spencer had yet to reach out. He hadn’t wanted to invade Y/N’s privacy by asking for her number through Adam, or having Penelope find it, despite the fact that he thought about her often. Instead, he kept the note she left tucked safely in one of his books, a reminder of the weekend they spent reconnecting in Napa Valley.

As much as he wanted to reach out, Spencer felt it was best to let Y/N take the lead. He respected her need for space and hoped that she would reach out when she was ready.

Meanwhile, Y/N had returned to her life in Las Vegas, trying to move on from the bittersweet memories of seeing Spencer again. She buried herself in work and spent time with Billie, occasionally checking in with Adam and Elizabeth who are doing absolutely wonderful in their new married life.

In an effort to move on, Y/N entered the dating pool. Being 26 years old at the time, she felt that she should get some experience under her belt. She went on a couple of dead-end first dates, had some second dates that fizzled out, and even the few that did make it to three or more didn’t last as she either got scared and cut them off or they ended it with her.

Just when she was starting to lose hope, she met Alex. Alex was a very nice person, thoughtful and patient, and they hit it off immediately. Y/N felt comfortable around Alex in a way she hadn’t with anyone else, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the urge to run away. They had been casually seeing each other for about four weeks now, and Y/N was surprised at how easy it felt.

—

Years at the Behavioral Analysis Unit had left their mark on Spencer Reid. While he still possessed the same gentle spirit and brilliant mind that Y/N had always admired, he carried with him the weight of experiences that had changed him in profound ways. Spencer had been abducted by an unsub, struggled with drug addiction, been shot on the job, and so much more.

When a case brought Spencer back to Las Vegas, he found himself wondering about Y/N. It had been years since their reunion in Napa Valley, and she lingered in his thoughts.

He had Penelope check if Y/N was still at her old apartment, curiosity tugging at his heart. But when he learned she had moved, he hesitated to ask Penelope to find her new address. The urge to reconnect was strong, yet he respected the boundaries they had wordlessly established.

—

Sunday was shaping up to be another hectic day for the BAU. The team was deep into a complex case, and the need for caffeine was at an all-time high. Derek and Spencer volunteered to make a coffee run for everyone, hoping the fresh air would clear their minds.

As they walked into a charming little cafe, the familiar hum of conversations and the rich aroma of coffee enveloped them. Spencer ran a hand through his hair and scanned the menu, trying to decide on what to order for the team.

Derek nudged him, nodding toward the barista with a playful grin. “Reid, I’ll handle the orders. Why don’t you grab us a table while we wait?”

Spencer nodded, taking a moment to glance around the bustling cafe. As his eyes swept across the room, he froze, his heart stopping.

There, at a corner table, sat Y/N. She looked radiant, her laughter mingling with the soft classical music playing overhead. But she wasn’t alone; sitting across from her was another person, clearly her date.

Spencer felt a lot of emotions surge through him—excitement, surprise, and a hint of something else he couldn’t quite place. He watched as Y/N leaned in to say something to her date, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, you okay?” Derek’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

Spencer cleared his throat, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I just... saw someone I know.”

Derek followed Spencer’s gaze and spotted Y/N. A knowing smile spread across his face. “Well, well. Go talk to her, Reid.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t seen Y/N since their chance encounter in Napa Valley, and now here she was, right in front of him, living her life. He decided to leave it be, he didn’t feel like being rejected again. Or worse, having a pleasant conversation end with her walking away, again.

Instead, he shook his head and fixed Derek with a look that said, not right now. Together they waited for their coffee and quietly chatted about the case.

Y/N was lost in her thoughts as she chatted with Alex. Her eyes had drifted when she heard his familiar voice. She could have sworn she imagined her date as Spencer Reid because there he was, at a table not even five feet away.

Gone were the glasses and slicked-back hair, now replaced with contacts and curls that framed his face perfectly. His usual cardigan had been traded out for a crisp button-down with the sleeves pushed up, revealing surprisingly toned forearms. The Converse he usually wore were replaced with polished oxfords.

Y/N excused herself and stood up as if possessed by an unseen force, making her way over to his table.

“Spencer...?” she said, disbelief coloring her voice as he looked up.

Derek took notice of the same girl from before, grinning widely. “Yes?”

Spencer playfully hit Derek on the arm, but his laughter was short-lived. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of distance.

“You cut your hair,” she said, taking in his new look.

“I know,” Spencer replied, a hint of no shit in his smile.

“You look so much older,” Y/N remarked, trying to reconcile the image of the Spencer she knew with the man standing before her.

“Well, four years will do that to a person,” Spencer said, his gaze hardening slightly.

“So will getting shot at,” Derek jested with a mischievous grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You’ve been shot at??”

“We’re in the FBI, sweetheart. You gonna introduce us, pretty boy?” Derek asked, flashing his charming smile.

Spencer had mentioned Derek to Y/N during their time together in Napa Valley, though they hadn’t been extremely close then. Likewise, he hadn’t told Derek much about Y/N, keeping their relationship mostly to himself.

“Sure. Y/N, this is my partner Derek. Derek, this is an old friend, Y/N,” Spencer introduced them, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were together,” Y/N said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Aren’t you here with a date, sugar?” Derek teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder to see Alex, who was watching the interaction with mild curiosity. “Oh yeah, yeah, I am.”

Derek chuckled, sensing the underlying tension. “Well, why don’t you get back to them and leave Dr. Reid and me to our business? Hmm?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It was good to see you, Spence.”

“You too, bye Y/N,” Spencer replied, his voice cool even as his heart ached with a bittersweet feeling as she returned to her date.

As Y/N settled back into her seat across from Alex, she couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heart. Seeing Spencer had stirred up emotions she thought she’d buried long ago. She tried to focus on her date, but her mind kept drifting back to Spencer and the unexpected encounter, the way he had seemed different yet so familiar.

She found herself glancing over at Spencer’s table more often than she intended, unable to shake the feeling that something significant had just passed between them. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and longing, and she realized that she wanted him more than she cared to admit.

—

On the walk back to the precinct, Derek finally broke the silence. “Alright, Reid. You wanna tell me what that was about? Who’s the girl?”

Spencer hesitated, then replied, “Her older brother was in my grade. We studied a lot together. I knew her from a distance. It was only a little over a year.”

“C’mon now, I know there’s more. Summer romance, perhaps?” Derek probed with a teasing grin.

Spencer snorted. “No, nothing like that. We were twelve.”

“You’re killing me, dude. It can’t be that bad, just tell me.” He said, throwing his friend a tired look.

“Alright, alright,” Spencer said, relenting as he recapped the wedding.

“I got an invitation to her brother Adam's wedding," Spencer began, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "He was always kind to me in high school, so I felt like I should go, even though I was nervous about seeing everyone again."

Derek nodded, listening intently as Spencer continued.

"I hadn't seen Y/N in years, and I didn’t know if I'd see her. Her brother booked the room arrangements, and there was a mix-up.”

Spencer paused, recalling the awkward but unexpectedly comforting encounter. "Y/N and I ended up sharing a room because there were no other available ones. It was unexpected, but we managed to reconnect."

“What was it like seeing her again?” Derek asked, intrigued.

“It was surreal," Spencer admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "She was different, but the same. We spent time reminiscing about our childhood, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed. She was funny, charming, and... she really made me feel like I belonged there."

Derek chuckled. "Sounds like you two hit it off."

"Yeah, we did," Spencer replied, his expression turning somber. "But then it got complicated. We spent the weekend together, talking and laughing, but when it came time to really confront what was happening between us, she left without saying goodbye. She left me a note explaining that she wasn't ready for anything more."

“Oh shit, man… and you haven’t talked to her since?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Didn’t want to get rejected again,” Spencer admitted, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. “She clearly didn’t know what she wanted.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said thoughtfully, rubbing his stubble. “That makes sense. From that alone, she sounds pretty wishy-washy.”

“Mhm, drove me crazy,” Spencer confessed, shaking his head.

“In a good way?” Derek asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“In every way,” Spencer replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You gonna see her again while we’re here?” Derek pressed, curious about Spencer’s next move.

“Not sure. She’s seeing someone,” Spencer said, a trace of dismissiveness in his tone.

“I see… but you said you were friends?” Derek said with a teasing smirk.

Spencer laughed. “Alright, you got me. Maybe I should talk to her.”

“In my extremely unbiased, objective, open-minded opinion, yes, you should,” Derek said, nodding sagely.

“She thinks we’re dating,” Spencer said, amusement coloring his voice.

“I know,” Derek laughed, enjoying the situation.

“Thanks for going with that. It felt really good,” Spencer admitted, feeling grateful for Derek’s support.

“I thought it might, Pretty Boy. You’d do the same for me,” Derek replied, sticking his hand out for a sideways shake.

Spencer firmly took his hand, a sense of camaraderie passing between them. “Yeah. I would.”

As they continued their walk, Spencer felt a sense of decidedness. Talking to Y/N seemed like the right thing to do, and with Derek’s encouragement, he was ready to take that step.

—

Spencer was never comfortable with the idea of invading an innocent person’s privacy, especially when it came to Y/N. He had contemplated asking Penelope to find Y/N’s new address, but that felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready to cross. Instead, he asked her to check if Y/N still worked at the same office in Las Vegas. Penelope’s search confirmed it—bingo.

By Monday afternoon, Spencer had made up his mind to see Y/N. After a productive day at work, including a briefing with Hotch and completing a geographical profile for an ongoing case, he felt ready to take the plunge.

At precisely 4:45 p.m., Spencer arrived at Y/N's office building. The glass doors reflected the late afternoon sun, casting warm hues across the lobby. Spencer took a deep breath and positioned himself near the entrance, hoping to catch her as she left for the day.

He glanced around, adjusting his jacket and trying to appear casual despite the rapid beating of his heart. People streamed out of the building, but there was no sign of Y/N yet.

In recent years, Spencer had lost a lot of his shy demeanor, replacing it with a hard edge that came from the shit he'd endured. He was no longer the timid young agent who second-guessed himself. Yet, nothing made him feel nervous quite like the thought of a confrontation with Y/N.

In the past, she had always gotten the upper hand, often steering their interactions with an ease that left him both amused and bewildered. Not that he wanted to dominate their conversations, but being able to call the shots for once would feel nice. It would be a change of pace, a chance to show her that he wasn't the same person she once knew.

He couldn't help but wonder how this meeting would go. Maybe Y/N would piss him off enough for him to walk away this time. Probably not, but it was a good thought. He had replayed this scenario countless times in his mind, envisioning a confident, collected version of himself handling the situation with poise.

But deep down, he knew that Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of reaching into the core of who he was and drawing out the raw, unfiltered version of Spencer Reid. And perhaps that was part of the reason he felt so drawn to her.

Spencer took a deep breath, reminding himself why he was here. He wanted answers, closure, or maybe just a chance to reconnect with someone who had left an indelible mark on his life. It was a step he needed to take, regardless of the outcome.

And then he saw her.

Y/N emerged from the doors, her presence instantly recognizable. She moved with a natural grace, her expression focused as she checked something on her phone. Spencer's heart skipped a beat, a flood of memories washing over him.

He called her name softly, hoping to catch her attention without startling her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto his. For a moment, neither of them spoke, caught in a silent exchange of emotions and unspoken words.

“Spencer?” she finally said, her voice carrying disbelief and curiosity.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, offering a tentative smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Y/N blinked, processing his presence. “No, not at all. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Spencer admitted, his tone earnest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything. I didn’t want to leave things as they were.”

Y/N hesitated, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings rushing through her. Seeing Spencer again was unexpected, but a part of her felt relief—like she’d been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

“I’m glad you came,” she said finally, a soft smile breaking through her initial surprise.

Spencer nodded, not wanting to give away his excitement at her words. His heart leaped at the idea that maybe she wanted this as much as he did.

“So… would you like to come to my place?” Y/N suggested, her voice gentle yet inviting. “We could talk, catch up?”

“Sure,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone casual even though anticipation was bubbling just beneath the surface.

—

Back in Y/N's living room, Spencer was determined to keep his emotions in check. He took a seat on the couch, his posture relaxed yet deliberate, ready to lead the conversation with a directness that was unusual for him.

Y/N returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee, handing one to Spencer before settling into the chair across from him. She could sense the tension in the air, a blend of anticipation and unresolved feelings hanging between them.

“So, what’s been on your mind, Spence?” Y/N asked, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

Spencer took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. He knew this was his chance to express what he had held back for so long, and he didn’t want to shy away from the truth.

“Y/N, I want to be honest with you,” he began, his voice steady and calm. “Our last encounter—the wedding—sucked. You walked away without saying goodbye, and that hurt. A lot.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, guilt flickering in her expression. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” Spencer replied, meeting her gaze with intensity. “But you did. And I need you to understand that. I thought we had something real, something worth exploring, but you ran.”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in her chest, Spencer's words hitting home. She had always known there were unresolved feelings between them, but hearing it so plainly brought it all to the forefront.

“I was scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of what it meant, scared of messing it up. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Spencer nodded, taking in her admission. “I get that. I do. But you need to know that it wasn’t easy for me either. I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn’t if you wouldn’t let me.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of their conversation settling in. Y/N took a sip of her coffee, allowing Spencer’s words to sink in.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” she said again, her sincerity clear in her eyes. “I didn’t realize how much it affected you.”

Spencer softened slightly, seeing her genuine regret. “I don’t want to hold grudges, Y/N. I just needed you to know where I stood.”

Y/N nodded, a sense of relief mingling with her guilt. “Thank you for telling me. It means a lot.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension easing as they both absorbed the emotional exchange. Spencer, though still guarded, felt a sense of closure beginning to form.

“I’m glad we talked,” he said finally, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It feels good to clear the air.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied, returning his smile. “I’ve missed you, Spencer. More than I realized.”

“I missed you too,” he said, smiling softly.

They sat there for a moment, the silence filled with an unspoken acknowledgment of the tug they both felt towards one another. Spencer could sense the nervous energy radiating from Y/N, excitement and uncertainty that matched his own feelings.

“So, um, how long are you in town for?” Y/N stumbled over her words slightly, a bit flustered by how handsome Spencer looked sitting in her living room, alone, in private.

“Just until we close the case,” Spencer replied, rubbing his hands on his pants, feeling awkward. “Hopefully not long.”

“I see,” she said, her voice trailing off.

“Yup,” he said, trying to find the right words to bridge the gap between them.

“Well, I’m glad I got to see you at all,” Y/N said, offering a small, tentative smile.

“Me too,” Spencer echoed, his mind racing with thoughts of what this meeting could mean for them.

“Um, Spence—I, if you want, would you want to get dinner with me?” Y/N asked, her voice carrying a note of hope.

“Like a date?” he said bluntly, catching her off guard.

Y/N’s face flushed fully, something Spencer thoroughly enjoyed, feeling a bit smug at having elicited such a reaction. “Yeah… like a date.”

“Aren’t you seeing someone?” Spencer asked, the hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Oh, uh, Alex? I mean, kind of, but—”

“Then, no,” he said firmly, cutting her off.

“No, Spencer, it’s not like that. It’s casual,” Y/N tried to explain, her tone pleading.

“Is everything casual to you?” he snapped, standing up abruptly. “You just run away when things get real?”

Y/N was taken aback by the intensity of his words, her heart sinking as she realized how deeply she had hurt him. “Spencer, that’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “You left without a word, and now you want to pick up like nothing happened?”

“I didn’t know what to do back then,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was scared. Of what it meant, of how I felt. I’m sorry.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. The frustration he felt was visible, but so was the longing that had never quite faded. “I just needed you to be honest with me, Y/N. To let me in.”

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I want to try, Spencer. I want to make it right.”

Spencer hesitated, the conflict within him evident. He had imagined this moment many times, wondering if he would ever have the courage to confront Y/N about the past. Now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure how to navigate the emotions swirling inside him.

“Look,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I need some time to think about all of this. I want to believe you, but I need to know you’re serious.”

“I am,” Y/N promised, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes. “I care about you, Spencer. I always have.”

They stood there in the living room, the air thick with unresolved tension and a hint of hope. Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their shared history and the possibility of a future that might still be within reach.

“Okay,” he said finally, nodding. “I’m going to go back to my hotel, alone. Give me your phone number and I’ll call you tomorrow. But no more games, Y/N.”

“No more games,” she agreed, a small, hopeful smile breaking through the uncertainty.

—

When Spencer arrived at the precinct in the morning, he immediately dove into his work. The case was complex, demanding his full attention and analytical skills. As he focused on the files spread out before him, he failed to notice the bouquet of white and lilac roses sitting elegantly in a mosaic glass vase on the front desk.

After everyone got settled in and Hotch conducted the morning debrief, one of the deputies walked in, holding the vase of flowers.

“Hey, someone left these at the front desk. They’re for a... Doc Ock?” the deputy announced with a bemused expression.

Spencer flushed, caught off guard by the unexpected delivery and the memory of waking up wrapped around Y/N. He quickly stood up, his face a shade of pink as he made his way to the front of the room.

“Thank you,” he said with a nod, taking the flowers from the deputy’s hands.

As he returned to his desk, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, each of them filled with curiosity. He tried to ignore the knowing smiles and raised eyebrows as he carefully retrieved the card nestled within the bouquet.

Spencer unfolded the card, angling it slightly to avoid any prying eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized Y/N’s now familiar handwriting.

Hey Doc,

I think it's silly that people usually only buy flowers for celebration or apologies. I also think that you deserve flowers all the time for any reason. Beautiful people should have beautiful things. I know you’re going to read into the meaning of the colors, and yes, I did my research. While white roses signify apology, I already said sorry, so you’ll have to take them for the meaning I intended: a new beginning. As for the lilac…

Xoxox

Petit Chou

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he read the note, his heart warming at the thoughtfulness behind it. He felt a sense of joy and anticipation that he realized only ever came with being around Y/N.

“Who’s it from, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased, trying to get a glimpse of the card.

Spencer quickly slipped the note back into the envelope, maintaining an air of mystery. “Just a friend,” he replied, unable to hide the hint of happiness in his voice.

“Looks like a pretty special friend,” JJ remarked with a wink.

Spencer nodded, feeling grateful for the unexpected gesture and the possibility of rekindling what he once thought was lost.

“Yeah,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “She is.”

As he placed the vase on his desk, the sweet scent of the roses filled the room, a reminder of the new beginning that awaited him with Y/N. It was a moment of hope and renewal, one that Spencer cherished deeply.

It was hard to focus on work that day, with Y/N heavy on Spencer’s mind once again. She was absolutely nuts in his eyes, sending lilac roses of all things…love at first sight.

—

Y/N received Spencer's phone call as promised. She was so nervous she’d miss it that she elected to work from home that day. When the phone finally rang, she took a deep breath before answering, feeling the anticipation and excitement.

“Hello?” Y/N said, a smile evident in her tone.

“Hey, psycho,” Spencer teased, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong number,” Y/N replied playfully. “I’m crazy, not a psycho.”

“Agree to disagree,” Spencer countered, grinning on his end of the line.

“That’s a heavy accusation coming from you, Doctor,” Y/N said, settling into the easy banter they had always shared.

“Lilac roses?” Spencer questioned, shifting the conversation back to the flowers she had sent.

“You figured it out, huh?” Y/N replied, a touch of pride in her voice.

“You knew I would,” Spencer said, his tone softening.

“I knew you would,” Y/N echoed, the sincerity in her words clear.

“You wanted me to know,” Spencer pressed, curious about the depth of her intentions.

“I needed you to know,” Y/N confessed, her voice carrying a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“Why?” Spencer asked, genuinely wanting to understand.

There was a pause on the line, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Y/N took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully

“Because it’s true,” she said finally, her voice steady but full of emotion. “I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, especially when it comes to you, Spencer. I wanted you to understand how important you are to me. How important you’ve always been to me.”

Spencer felt his heart swell at her words, the sincerity and openness touching something deep within him. He had always sensed a special connection between them, but hearing Y/N express it so openly made him realize just how much he had missed her.

“Thank you,” Spencer said softly, his voice holding gratitude and affection.

“Anything for you,” Y/N replied, her words warm and reassuring

“I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon,” Spencer said, regret tinged with the promise of future conversations.

“Okay, talk soon,” Y/N responded, a smile audible in her voice.

They ended the call, and Spencer stood for a moment, phone still in hand, processing the conversation. He felt a renewed sense of hope, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter—one that he hoped would lead them back to each other, this time for good.

—

Y/N was stuck smiling like a moron after her conversation with Spencer, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again. Her heart was fluttering, and she couldn't stop replaying the conversation in her head, each word replaying with a sense of joy and promise. Thank god she stayed home from work, her coworkers would have had a field day with the dopey look on her face.

That was something Alex never made her feel. Alex. Shit.

Her mind jolted back to reality as she realized she had another important call to make. The weight of her decision settled in her chest, but she knew what she needed to do.

Y/N took a deep breath, pulling up Alex's number on her phone. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but it was necessary. Alex deserved honesty, and Y/N had to follow her heart, even if it meant ending things with someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

After a few rings, Alex picked up, their voice warm and familiar. "Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?"

“Hey, Alex,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the seriousness of the call. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” they said, picking up on the slight tension in her voice. “What’s up?”

Y/N took another deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I wanted to talk to you about something important. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I feel like it’s only fair to be honest with you.”

“Okay…” Alex said, their tone cautious.

With that weight lifted, her mind returned to Spencer, and the possibilities of what their renewed relationship might bring. Y/N felt hopeful about the future. She was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that this time, she would be honest with herself and with Spencer about what she truly wanted.

—

Unfortunately, Spencer didn’t have another chance to see Y/N before the team had to return to Virginia. The case had wrapped up quickly, and duty called them back to Quantico sooner than he had hoped. As the plane soared through the sky, Spencer found himself staring out the window, his thoughts consumed by Y/N and the possibilities that lay ahead.

Once back in his apartment, Spencer wasted no time. He dropped his bags, kicked off his shoes, and immediately reached for his phone. He needed to hear Y/N’s voice, to let her know that he was serious about pursuing whatever it was they had rekindled.

He dialed her number, anticipation building as the line rang.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, her voice a comforting balm to his weary mind.

“Hey, it’s me,” Spencer said, smiling despite his exhaustion. “I just got back home.”

“Hey, me. Your voice sounds different here, did it get deeper?” Y/N teased, her playful tone immediately lightening Spencer’s mood.

“You’re an idiot,” Spencer laughed affectionately, the sound of her voice soothing the stress from his long journey.

“So first I’m a psycho, and now I’m an idiot. That’s a lot of negative self-talk, me. Are you okay?” Y/N quipped, her humor shining through.

Spencer got a good laugh in, thoroughly entertained by Y/N’s sense of humor. “I’m okay,” he assured, shaking his head in amusement.

“Listen, I know we didn’t get much time together while I was in Vegas, but I wanted to tell you that I’m serious about us. I’d like to plan a trip out to visit you as soon as I can so we can try dating. See if it even works between the two of us.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, and Spencer held his breath, waiting for her response.

“I’d really like that, Spencer,” she finally said, her tone filled with warmth and excitement. “I was actually hired by a magazine to write this article, and I think you’d be the perfect person to help me!”

“Oh, really?” Spencer asked, still gullible despite her teasing tone. “What’s it about?”

“Oh, you’re going to love it! It’s going to be called ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,’ and—”

“On second thought, I’m so busy here I don’t think I can get any time off,” Spencer teased seriously, playing along with her joke.

“Oh no! My perfect plan!” Y/N laughed, her voice a melody of genuine joy.

Spencer chuckled, his heart feeling light and full. “You got me there. But seriously, I’d love to visit.”

“Good, because I wasn’t joking about the visiting part,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “I really want to see you, Spencer. And not just for an article.”

“I want to see you too,” Spencer replied earnestly. “I’ll look at my schedule and figure out when I can come. I want to make this work.”

“Take your time,” Y/N reassured, her sincerity evident. “Whenever you can come, I’ll be here.”

They spent the rest of the conversation discussing potential dates and places they could visit together, both feeling the excitement of what lay ahead. Their banter was effortless, their connection undeniable, and Spencer found himself looking forward to this new chapter.

—

As luck would have it, Y/N’s job offered much more flexibility than Spencer’s, allowing her to take time off with relative ease. With that in mind, Spencer approached Hotch about taking two weeks off, explaining his plans and the importance of the time off. Hotch agreed, granting Spencer the time away with the condition that he remain available in case a serious case arose. In such an event, Spencer would work from Quantico alongside Penelope.

On the other hand, Y/N was allotted a two-week vacation on the condition that she take her computer and remain accessible for any urgent work matters. She readily agreed, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing Spencer and experiencing his world in Virginia.

The month leading up to her trip seemed to fly by. Spencer had been called on another case almost immediately after their initial reunion, but they stayed in constant contact.

Now, the day had finally arrived. Y/N sat on the plane, her heart racing with anticipation. She pulled out her phone, sending Spencer a quick text to let him know she had made it onto the plane and that they were about to take off.

Hey Spence, I just wanted to let you know I’m on the plane, and we’re about to take off! I can’t wait to see you. :)

She glanced out the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway. As the plane lifted into the sky, Y/N closed her eyes, letting the hum of the engines soothe her nerves. The flight would be a few hours, giving her plenty of time to reflect on the past and the possibilities of the future.

Meanwhile, in Virginia Spencer received Y/N’s text just as he was tidying up his apartment, a sense of excitement coursing through him. He had spent the past week preparing for her visit, ensuring everything was perfect for her arrival. He wanted to share his world with her, to show her the life he had built in Virginia.

He texted back quickly, his fingers flying over the keys.

Hey, Y/N! I’m so glad to hear you’re on your way. I can’t wait to see you. Safe travels!

As he hit send, Spencer felt a flutter of anticipation. It had been a long time since he had looked forward to something with such eagerness, and the prospect of spending time with Y/N filled him with joy.

—

Spencer stood outside the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, his heart racing with anticipation. In his hand, he held a small, handwritten sign that read Mrs. Ock, a playful nod to the nickname that had become a lighthearted joke between them.

As travelers streamed past him, Spencer scanned the crowd, his eyes searching for the familiar face he had been looking forward to seeing. The excitement was palpable, a mix of nerves and happiness bubbling within him.

And then he saw her.

Y/N emerged from the crowd, looking slightly travel-worn but radiating the same beauty and charm that had drawn him to her in the first place. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him, a smile breaking across her face as she approached.

“Spencer!” she called, her voice rising above the chatter of the busy terminal.

He grinned, holding up the sign as she walked toward him. “Welcome to Virginia, Mrs. Ock,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate.

Y/N laughed, reaching him with open arms. “I can’t believe you actually made a sign,” she said, wrapping him in a hug that felt both familiar and new.

“It seemed fitting,” Spencer replied, embracing her tightly, feeling the warmth and comfort of her presence. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” Y/N said, pulling back slightly to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I’ve missed you.”

They lingered for a moment, soaking in the reality of being together again. The weeks apart had only heightened their anticipation, and now, standing face to face, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, her excitement evident as she retrieved her luggage from the carousel.

“Well,” Spencer began, taking her suitcase in hand, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought we could start with a seven-hour history of every event that has ever taken place in Virginia, followed by a pop quiz. And then, you could help me translate this new book I got from Korean to Russian.”

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head at his playful seriousness. “Sounds perfect,” she replied, playing along. “But before the history lesson, are there any high ledges I can stand on top of? You know, just for dramatic effect.”

Spencer chuckled, enjoying their banter. “Oh, I’m sure we can find a nice, tall building for you to contemplate life from. It might even offer a panoramic view of all the historical landmarks I’m going to lecture you about.”

“Excellent. I’ll need a good view while I ponder my life choices,” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge as they made their way through the bustling airport.

As they walked out into the warm Virginia air, Spencer felt a sense of happiness he had forgotten he could feel. The playfulness between them was infectious, a reminder of the tie they shared that had survived time and distance.

“Seriously, though,” Spencer said, turning to face Y/N as they reached the car. “I have a few places in mind that I think you’ll really enjoy. But we can save sightseeing for another day. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Spence,” she said, gazing up at him with a smile, “I’ll do anything you want to do.”

A mischievous glint appeared in Spencer’s eyes as he replied, “Well, I was recently gifted the Kama Sutra...”

“Spencer Reid!” Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks flushing as she playfully smacked his arm. Her laughter filled the air, a sound that warmed Spencer’s heart.

He chuckled, enjoying her reaction. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But really, we can do whatever you feel like. I’m just happy you’re here.”

Y/N shook her head, a grin still on her face as she settled into the car. “You’ve changed, Doctor Reid. I like this new side of you.”

Spencer flashed a charming smile as he started the engine. “You bring it out in me,” he admitted, glancing at her with genuine affection.

—

As they drove through the quaint streets of Virginia, the passing scenery was a blend of historic charm and natural beauty, with tree-lined streets and quaint buildings that painted a picturesque backdrop for their reunion.

“Virginia is beautiful,” Y/N remarked, her eyes taking in the scenery with awe.

“It is,” Spencer agreed, feeling a swell of pride. “And I’m glad I get to show it to you.”

The drive felt both comforting and exhilarating, the anticipation of the days ahead making each mile more exciting.

When they finally arrived at Spencer’s apartment, Y/N stepped out of the car, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

“This is it,” Spencer said, opening the door and motioning for her to enter. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Y/N stepped inside, taking in the carefully curated space that reflected Spencer’s personality perfectly. The shelves were lined with books, of course, and the decor was a mix of comfort and intellectual charm.

“It’s exactly how I imagined it,” Y/N said, turning to him with a smile. “Cozy and full of books.”

Spencer chuckled, closing the door behind them. “I hope it’s not too overwhelming.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, her tone sincere. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, I’ll show you my bedroom. We can put your stuff in there,” Spencer said, leading the way down the hallway.

“Oh great! And where will you be sleeping?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow as she followed him.

“In the bathtub, obviously,” Spencer replied with a smirk.

“Fantastic, we don’t need a repeat of last time,” Y/N shot back, grinning at the memory of their playful exchanges.

“Sure, Mrs. Ock, I know how much you hated it,” Spencer quipped, chuckling at their shared joke.

“I am not at liberty to confirm or deny that,” Y/N said, feigning innocence.

“Mhm,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes playfully as they reached his bedroom. “So, this is the bedroom, where I like to keep my clothes and lie awake at night thinking about serial killers.”

“Ohh, so relaxing,” Y/N said, taking in the room with a mock-serious expression. “Is this where you keep the Kama Sutra too?”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “No, that’s in a special place reserved for when I really need to unwind after a long day.”

“Oh, of course,” Y/N said, nodding sagely. “Everyone needs a little light reading before bed.”

They both burst into laughter, the easy banter between them an indication of the comfort they shared.

As Y/N unpacked her belongings, she felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t anticipated. Spencer’s space was filled with little details that made it uniquely his—bookmarks tucked into half-read novels, maps pinned to the walls, and a cozy armchair that looked like it had been well-loved over the years.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” Y/N said, glancing over at Spencer as she placed her suitcase in the corner.

“Of course,” Spencer replied, his voice warm with sincerity. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of the journey that had led them to this moment. The excitement and familiarity, a step into the unknown that felt just right.

—

That evening, after Y/N and Spencer enjoyed some takeout for dinner, they settled on Spencer’s couch, ready to wind down with a movie. The room was cozy and dimly lit, the perfect setting for a relaxing night in.

“I’m not watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Spencer declared as they discussed movie options, a playful smirk on his face.

“It’s a classic!” Y/N protested, leaning back into the cushions with an exaggerated pout.

“It’s literally not,” Spencer countered, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

“But I love that movie,” Y/N insisted, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes.

“And I do not care at all,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with mock sternness.

“Fine, asshole, what do you want to watch?” Y/N relented, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile.

“We could watch one of the Star Wars movies,” Spencer suggested, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“Let me guess… Return of the Jedi?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“No…” Spencer said, dragging out the word in a way that told Y/N she had guessed right.

“You just want to see Princess Leia in a bikini!” she exclaimed, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

Spencer laughed, the sound genuine and free. “I’ll have you know that Return of the Jedi is a pivotal moment in the saga’s narrative arc, with or without the bikini.”

“Oh, sure, sure. It’s all about the ‘narrative arc,’” Y/N teased, putting air quotes around his words.

“Fine, if you insist,” Spencer said, finally admitting with a sheepish grin. “Leia does have her moments.”

“Busted!” Y/N laughed, delighted by his admission.

Spencer rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “What can I say? I have a soft spot for rebellious princesses.”

“Don’t we all?” Y/N said, settling back against the couch cushions. “Alright, let’s watch it. But I reserve the right to critique every plot hole and outdated special effect.”

“Deal,” Spencer agreed, grabbing the remote and selecting Return of the Jedi.

As the opening crawl began, Y/N and Spencer settled in, the familiar theme music filling the room. They watched as the story unfolded, occasionally pausing to discuss their favorite scenes or to laugh at Y/N’s witty commentary on the more dated aspects of the film.

About halfway through the movie, Y/N got up to go to the bathroom. When she returned, she was surprised to find Spencer waiting with a playful look in his eyes. As she walked around the couch, he held out his hand to her, signaling for her to take it.

With a curious smile, Y/N accepted his hand, only to be gently pulled down next to him, their sides pressed comfortably together. Spencer then let go of her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and kissing her head softly.

“Did… did I just get romanced by Spencer Reid?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with teasing disbelief.

“Shhh, the movie’s on,” Spencer replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Are you flirting with me?” Y/N pressed, glancing up at him with a knowing grin.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, feigning innocence as he tried to focus on the screen.

Y/N wasn’t having it. She proceeded to poke her fingers into Spencer’s ticklish side, causing him to squirm and laugh despite himself.

“Okay, uncle! Uncle!” Spencer finally conceded between fits of laughter. “Yes, I’m flirting with you!”

“Good, loser,” Y/N said, settling back against him with a satisfied smile.

“I’m going to remember this,” Spencer warned playfully.

“You remember everything,” Y/N teased, poking him gently in the ribs.

—

As they tidied up and got ready to call it a night, Y/N couldn’t help but reflect on how perfect the evening had been. The easy laughter and shared moments reminded her of why she had been so drawn to Spencer in the first place.

“Thanks for indulging me,” Spencer said, turning to face her as they stood in the living room.

“You gave me no choice," Y/N teased, "I hope you dream of me in the golden bikini.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my… reading material.”

“Pervert!” Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re so bold now.”

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked, his voice dropping to a more serious tone as he searched her eyes for an answer.

“It’s more than okay,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze meeting his with amusement and something deeper.

The two got ready for bed, Spencer being convinced Y/N had put on the smallest things she could find in her suitcase to torture him. Luckily, he wasn’t still the same bumbling idiot he was four years ago—he didn't get hard when the wind brushed by anymore.

He might not actually have the Kama Sutra, but he had finally indulged in self-pleasure. Let's just say, he holds himself together a lot better now.

—

Spencer could not hold himself together at all. He woke up spooning Y/N once again, albeit less like an octopus and more like a boyfriend. His very hard dick was pressing into her very soft ass, waking the rest of his body up very quickly. He swallowed, trying to calm himself and think of literally anything else, but it was no use.

The feel of her warmth against him, the rise and fall of her breathing, was all-consuming. Not wanting to scare her too soon, especially considering how things went last time, Spencer eased out of bed as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb her. He slipped into the shower, hoping the cold water might calm his nerves.

Y/N didn’t even remember falling asleep last night; she was just so comfortable in Spencer’s bed. She was surrounded by the rich smell of him, the warmth of his covers, and the knowledge that he was there. It was as if the sheets were wrapped around her like a cocoon of security, and she didn’t really want to get up.

She sighed contentedly, letting her eyes drift open, only to find Spencer missing from the bed. Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t beside her anymore. But the sound of the shower running from the bathroom clued her in to where he had run off to.

Spencer’s apartment only had one bathroom, and now that she was tuned into the sound of running water, staying in bed was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The pressing need to pee was becoming more urgent by the second.

Getting out of bed, she padded softly toward the bathroom, considering the situation. This might be too intimate for two people who said they would try dating but still hadn’t even kissed. But it was this or pee on his floor. Being the germaphobe Spencer is, she didn’t think he’d appreciate that too much.

She hesitated for a moment, then raised her hand to knock gently on the bathroom door. “Spencer?” she called, her voice slightly muffled by the door.

Startled by her voice, Spencer dropped the soap with a thud. He cursed under his breath, fumbling to pick it up. “Uh, yeah?” he replied, trying to sound casual despite the surprise.

“Can I come in?” Y/N asked, shifting from foot to foot, hoping he’d understand her urgency.

“...Why?” Spencer asked cautiously, the water continuing to patter around him in the shower.

Y/N couldn’t help but smirk, even though he couldn’t see it. “Well, I didn’t get to see you naked in Napa,” she teased, hoping to lighten the situation with a joke.

“Y/N!” Spencer spluttered, feeling his cheeks flush even though he knew she was just kidding.

“I need to pee really bad,” she admitted, the humor dropping from her tone to emphasize the urgency.

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost hear the wheels turning in Spencer’s head as he considered her request.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented with a sigh, “just don’t look, please. It’s a glass shower.”

“Promise,” Y/N replied, her tone both relieved and playful. She opened the door just enough to slip inside, determined to keep her eyes averted as she made a beeline for the toilet.

As she settled down, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation, the familiarity of it feeling strangely comforting. “You know, this is definitely a new level of intimacy for us.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he tried to focus on rinsing off. “Yeah, well, just another day in the life of Dr. Reid.”

Y/N finished up and washed her hands, keeping her back turned to him the entire time to respect his request for privacy. As she headed back out, she paused by the door, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Thanks, Spence. Oh, one more thing,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“What’s that?” Spencer asked, glancing at her curiously from behind the glass shower door.

“Did your ass get bigger?” she quipped, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him a little more.

Spencer burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the tiles. “Get out!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Y/N grinned, giving him a cheeky wave before slipping out of the bathroom, feeling lighthearted. She left Spencer to finish his shower with amusement and affection for the woman who had quickly become such an important part of his life.

—

Spencer and Y/N spent the day exploring all of Spencer’s favorite spots. They strolled through parks, visited local bookstores, and even stopped by a quaint café Spencer adored. Y/N found herself overflowing with adoration for the man who seemed to find joy and wonder in the simplest of things. She admired the way he spoke passionately about his interests, the light in his eyes when he shared a new fact, and the genuine kindness he showed to everyone they encountered.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt his heart swell with every smile Y/N gave him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be falling in love with her, something that both excited and terrified him. Her laughter, her curiosity, and the way she made him feel like he was the only person in the world were intoxicating.

As the day turned to evening, they ended up back at Spencer’s apartment per his request that they dress nicely for dinner reservations he had made at a fancy restaurant. The thought of a romantic evening filled him with anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

Spencer left Y/N to use the bathroom, only needing to change clothes and tousle his hair a bit. He opted for a crisp, tailored suit that brought out the color of his eyes, feeling it was a special enough occasion to warrant the extra effort.

Y/N, meanwhile, took her time selecting the best dress she had packed, one that hugged her curves just right and made her feel confident. She applied slightly more makeup than usual, enhancing her features and adding a touch of elegance to her appearance. She wanted to impress, knowing that this was a night she wanted to remember.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Spencer was sitting in his living room, engrossed in a book. He looked up as she entered, and his eyes widened in appreciation.

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Spencer glanced over his shoulder, the angle making his jaw look extra sharp. His breath caught for a moment as he took in her transformation. “Jesus, I didn’t know you could clean up that well.”

“Shut up, Doctor,” Y/N replied, blushing under his intense gaze.

“I’m serious,” Spencer said, putting his book on the table and standing up. He approached her, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re breathtaking.”

“And you’re cheesy,” Y/N said, trying to deflect the compliment but unable to hide her smile.

“You love it,” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful.

“The jury’s still out,” Y/N replied, though her voice betrayed her amusement.

“Yeah?” Spencer asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of her, his breath fanning over her face. His proximity sent a thrill through her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Uh-huh,” Y/N managed to say, her voice a whisper as she met his gaze, feeling the tension and anticipation crackling in the air between them.

Spencer reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft and reverent. He looked at her with such warmth and sincerity that she felt herself melt under his gaze.

“Let’s go,” Spencer said softly, offering his arm to her.

Y/N took it, feeling a sense of excitement as they headed out the door, ready to enjoy an evening that promised to be as magical as the day they had shared.

—

After being seated in the gorgeous restaurant, Y/N and Spencer settled into the comfortable ambiance, surrounded by soft candlelight and the murmur of conversations from other patrons. The place was elegant, with high ceilings and ornate decorations that gave it a timeless charm. Spencer had chosen well, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of this special evening.

As they perused the menu, the conversation naturally flowed into laughter and stories, each taking turns recounting moments that had shaped their lives since they last saw each other.

“I swear!” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes wide with amusement. “Hand to my heart, Adam thought he could handle watching Lizzie give birth. He took one look at the head crowning and passed out!”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like Adam. Always so confident until reality hits.”

Y/N laughed, nodding in agreement. “Lizzie was not impressed. She had to finish giving birth and then tend to him once he came around. He claims he wasn’t out for long, but I swear it was a solid minute before he came to.”

“I can just imagine the look on Lizzie’s face,” Spencer said, grinning. “She must have been livid.”

“Oh, she was,” Y/N confirmed, giggling. “But you know Adam. He made it up to her with his charm and a dozen apologies.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, enjoying the easy rapport they shared. It felt good to laugh and reminisce, the years between them melting away with every shared story.

“What about you?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued. “Any memorable moments you’ve had to deal with recently?”

Spencer paused, considering the past few years. “Well, there was that time we had to deal with a bomb threat at a library. I was in the middle of reshelving a section when they called in the evacuation.”

“A bomb threat?” Y/N said, eyes widening. “That sounds terrifying.”

“It was,” Spencer admitted, though his tone remained light. “But it all worked out in the end. The threat was a hoax, but not before my team teased me about being more concerned for the books than myself.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You would be more worried about the books.”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

—

As the evening unfolded, the restaurant's attentive waitstaff served them a series of exquisite dishes, each one more delicious than the last. Spencer and Y/N shared bites of their meals, their mutual enjoyment adding another layer of intimacy to the night.

“Have you ever tried this before?” Spencer asked, offering a forkful of his dish to Y/N.

“No, but it looks amazing,” Y/N said, leaning forward to taste it. “Wow, that’s incredible.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Spencer said, pleased with her reaction.

Y/N returned the favor, offering him a bite from her plate. “You have to try this one. It’s divine.”

Spencer obliged, savoring the flavor. “You have excellent taste,” he complimented, earning a satisfied smile from Y/N.

As they continued to share their meal, Spencer found himself more and more captivated by Y/N. Her laughter, her stories, the way her eyes lit up with enthusiasm—it all made him realize just how much he had missed having her in his life.

—

Toward the end of the meal, as they lingered over dessert, Spencer took a moment to reflect on everything that had led to this point. The twists and turns, the missed connections, and finally, the chance to reconnect.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that caught her attention. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “I am too, Spencer. I’ve missed this—us.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was a comfortable one, filled with the understanding and union that words sometimes failed to express. Spencer reached across the table, his fingers lightly grazing Y/N’s hand, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin against his own.

Her heart fluttered at the contact, and she couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “About us, about what might have been if we’d stayed in touch.”

Spencer nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Me too. It’s funny how life works sometimes, bringing people back together when you least expect it.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I guess some things are just meant to be, even if they take a little detour.”

Their eyes met, and Spencer felt a swell of emotion, realizing that this was a moment he wanted to remember forever. It wasn’t just about the past or the what-ifs, but about the present and the possibilities that lay ahead.

“So, what do you think?” Spencer asked, his tone playful yet sincere. “About us trying to make this work?”

Y/N took a deep breath, considering the question. It was a big step, but one she was ready to take.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she replied, her eyes shining with hope. “I’d like to see where this goes, Spencer. I really would.”

Spencer’s heart soared at her words, the promise of a new beginning filling him with excitement and anticipation.

—

As they finished their dessert and prepared to leave the restaurant, Spencer and Y/N felt a sense of optimism and joy. The night had been perfect, a blend of laughter, shared memories, and heartfelt conversations that brought them closer together than ever before.

“Ready to head back?” Spencer asked, offering his hand to help her up from the table.

“Ready when you are,” Y/N replied, taking his hand and feeling a thrill at the touch.

They walked out of the restaurant into the cool evening air, hand in hand, the stars twinkling above them like a promise of new adventures to come.

As they strolled back to Spencer’s apartment, the city lights casting a warm glow around them, they talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always had.

When they reached the apartment, Spencer held the door open for her, a gentlemanly gesture that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping inside and feeling the comfort of his presence beside her.

“My pleasure,” Spencer replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

Once inside, Y/N kicked off her heels and sighed contentedly, the evening having been everything she had hoped for and more. Spencer joined her on the couch, and they sat together, savoring the moment.

“Today was amazing,” Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad,” Spencer replied, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer. “I wanted it to be special.”

“It was,” Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude and affection. “Thank you, Spencer.”

They sat there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet of the apartment a soothing backdrop to their thoughts and feelings. It was a moment of peace and reflection.

“I don’t want this to end,” Spencer said softly, voicing the thought that had been on his mind all night.

“It doesn’t have to,” Y/N replied, lifting her head to look at him.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything felt right. The past, the present, and the future all seemed to converge, leading them to this point where anything was possible.

Spencer leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her gently, the touch a promise of what lay ahead. Y/N kissed him back, feeling the warmth and love that had been building between them, finally finding its place in the world they were creating together.

The kiss deepened as Spencer’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. The tender touch sent shivers down her spine, and she leaned into him, savoring the spark that felt both electric and comforting. Spencer’s fingers slowly tangled in her hair, pulling her even closer as he let himself get lost in the moment.

Y/N’s hands found their way to Spencer’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. She marveled at the strength and tenderness in him, the way he seemed to know exactly what she needed. As if sensing her thoughts, Spencer pulled back slightly, gazing into her eyes with intensity and affection.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice a soft murmur that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection and desire. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

With a playful glint in his eye, Spencer leaned in again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle this time. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a reflection of the emotions that had been simmering between them for so long.

Spencer’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her onto his lap as he deepened the kiss. Y/N could feel the heat radiating from his growing erection, a fire that matched her own. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the affinity they shared.

“Are you okay with this?” Spencer asked softly, pulling back just enough to search her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as she felt his hands trail up her sides. “More than okay,” she assured him, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Spencer smiled, his eyes darkening with desire. He took her hand and guided it to the buttons of his shirt, silently inviting her to take the next step. Y/N’s fingers worked quickly, undoing each button with anticipation and eagerness.

As she pushed the fabric aside, revealing the toned muscles beneath, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before her. Spencer was beautiful, a perfect blend of strength and vulnerability, and she felt a surge of emotion at the thought of being here with him.

Spencer seemed to read her thoughts, and he reached for the zipper of her dress, his touch both gentle and confident. The sound of the zipper filled the room, a quiet yet thrilling reminder of the moment they were sharing.

But as the fabric loosened around her shoulders, Y/N felt a sudden rush of emotions and pulled back slightly, placing her hand gently on Spencer’s chest. “Wait,” she said softly.

Spencer immediately froze, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “This is a lot,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. The emotions swirling inside her were intense; desire, fear, and longing.

Spencer swore he could feel his heart break, the words echoing painfully in his mind. Y/N had said very similar words to him four years ago before she left, and he couldn’t help but fear that history might repeat itself.

“Okay, let's slow down,” Spencer said gently, his voice calm and reassuring as he moved his hand away from her dress. He wanted to give her space and reassurance, making sure she felt comfortable and safe.

Y/N looked up at him, relief flooding through her as she saw the understanding and care in his eyes. “I just—I’ve wanted you for so long, and I’m a little overwhelmed,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing with vulnerability. “We have time. Can we take baby steps?”

“Of course, babe,” Spencer replied, a soft smile playing on his lips as he cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin.

Babe. Babe. Babe. Y/N's mind spun as she replayed the word, feeling a thrill run through her. Spencer called her babe. It was a simple term of endearment, but it carried a weight of affection and intimacy that made her heart skip a beat.

“You called me babe,” she said, her voice filled with surprise and delight.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “I did,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. “It’s very okay,” she replied, her smile growing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You’re still hard,” Y/N observed, her voice holding amusement and curiosity as she glanced down at the noticeable tension between them.

“I’m violently aware of that fact,” Spencer replied, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone as he tried to maintain some semblance of control.

Y/N smirked, clearly enjoying his predicament. “What do you want to do about that?”

Spencer took a deep breath, his mind racing with possibilities. “First, you’re wonderful,” he said, his voice laced with affection, “but I’m going to need you to get off of me.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence as she shifted slightly, her movements deliberate and teasing.

“Don’t tease me right now, it’s not nice,” Spencer warned, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“But I like teasing you,” Y/N countered, her smile widening as she reveled in the effect she had on him.

Spencer arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You won’t always be in charge, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more suggestive tone.

“Are you saying I am right now?” she challenged, her tone playful and confident.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Spencer replied, trying to sound stern but failing as his own amusement crept into his voice.

Y/N laughed softly, clearly enjoying the banter between them. But her playful teasing took a more daring turn as she leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over his skin.

“What if I did this?” Y/N whispered, grinding her hips down on Spencer’s erection, a bold move that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his mind momentarily blank as a wave of heat washed over him. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan, the sensation both thrilling and maddening.

“Y/N,” he managed to say, his voice a mixture of warning and desire as he fought to keep his composure.

She leaned back slightly, looking down at him with a satisfied smile. “Yes, Spencer?” she asked, her voice sweetly innocent despite her bold actions.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief at the situation. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his tone both admiring and amused.

“Well, at least you’ll go out with a smile,” Y/N quipped, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him.

Spencer reached up, his hands settling on her hips as he tried to regain some measure of control. “You’re impossible,” he said, though there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

“And you love it,” Y/N replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth between them undeniable.

“Unfortunate, but true,” Spencer admitted, feeling both amused and enchanted by her boldness.

“So you want to be in charge?” Y/N asked, her voice taking on a sultry edge as she looked at him with playful eyes.

Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out where she was going with this. “What are you getting at?” he asked, curiosity piquing his interest.

Y/N met his gaze steadily, her confidence shining through. “You can use me, baby,” she said, her words dripping with seduction and sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “What??” he said, his brain struggling to process the implications of her offer.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently guiding his hands to her hips. “Take my hips,” she instructed, her voice low and inviting. “And use me to get off.”

The room seemed to fall silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. Spencer's heart raced, excitement and awe washing over him. It was an invitation he hadn't expected but one that spoke volumes about the trust and desire between them.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of uncertainty, but all he saw was warmth and encouragement.

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern and longing.

Y/N nodded, her expression sincere and reassuring. “I’m sure,” she said, her hands covering his as she leaned in, brushing her lips against his in a gentle, reassuring kiss.

Spencer exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his body shift from uncertainty to anticipation. His fingers tightened around her hips, the soft fabric of her dress under his touch a reminder of the reality of the moment.

“Okay,” Spencer said, his voice steady as he accepted her invitation, allowing himself to embrace the desire that had been building between them.

With newfound confidence, Spencer shifted slightly, guiding her movements with his hands. The sensation of her warmth and softness against him was intoxicating, a heady rush of pleasure and emotion that made his heart race.

Y/N moved with him, her body responding to his touch in a way that felt natural and right. The air between them was electric, charged with the promise of what they were exploring together.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as he felt the electricity between them deepen with every movement and shared breath. It was a dance of trust and intimacy, one that they had unconsciously choreographed together over time. Each subtle shift of her hips and every soft gasp that escaped her lips was a reminder of the potent chemistry they shared, a chemistry that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N’s body moved against his with an urgency that mirrored his own, her touch igniting a fire that spread through him like a blaze. Spencer realized just how much he had missed this—missed her. The way she seemed to know exactly how to touch him, how to bring him to the edge of reason, was something he had never found even in himself. It was as if she had a map to every sensitive spot, every place that could make him unravel.

The air between them was thick with tension, every whisper and caress speaking volumes of the unspoken desires that had lingered between them. Spencer’s hands traveled along Y/N’s body, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips and pulling her closer, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

Their breathing became ragged, the room filled with the sounds of their shared experience—the low hum of desire, the soft moans of pleasure, the occasional whispered word that sent shivers down each other’s spines. The intensity of the moment built like a crescendo, each wave of sensation more overwhelming than the last.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice hoarse with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. He bucked his hips up instinctively, the friction almost too much to bear as he felt her move against him, her warmth enveloping him.

He tightened his grip on her hips, guiding her movements, feeling the tension coil tightly within him. His breath caught in his throat as he neared the brink, his mind a haze of sensation and longing.

Y/N responded to his every movement, her body attuned to his in a way that felt almost instinctual. She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over his ear as she whispered something that made his skin tingle, her words a promise and a challenge all at once.

“Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

In that moment, Spencer surrendered to the intensity, pulling her down to meet him as he let go, the release hitting him with an unexpected force that left him breathless. His body trembled with the aftermath, the world narrowing down to the exquisite sensation and the woman in his arms.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Spencer lay there panting, his heart racing, feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated. Y/N remained close, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his skin as she pressed gentle kisses to his face, grounding him in the moment.

Spencer sat there for a moment, panting heavily, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his composure. Embarrassment and satisfaction coursed through him with each breath.

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice tender and soothing as she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

Spencer opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a look of gratitude and affection. “Yeah,” he breathed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m okay.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Good,” she replied, continuing to stroke his hair with gentle, soothing motions.

The room was quiet now, the echoes of their shared moment fading into the background as they simply enjoyed being together.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said suddenly, a touch of sheepishness coloring his tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know...”

“Don’t be,” Y/N interrupted, her smile reassuring. “I wanted this. I wanted to be here with you.”

Her words eased the lingering tension in Spencer’s chest, and he nodded, feeling a deep sense of relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside their little cocoon feeling distant and irrelevant. Spencer felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

Y/N sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I really don't want to ruin this sweet moment,” she murmured, her voice filled with both affection and mischief.

“Oh God,” Spencer groaned, a teasing glint in his eyes as he prepared for whatever quip was about to come his way.

“You don't even know what I'm going to say,” Y/N protested, feigning indignation.

“It’s almost never good,” Spencer replied with a smirk, clearly enjoying the playful banter between them.

“Ignoring that,” Y/N brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, we should change.”

“Oh… yeah, hah,” Spencer agreed, suddenly remembering the very real situation they were in.

“Like now, preferably,” she continued, trying to sound serious but unable to keep the laughter from her voice. “There’s jizz in my underwear. How much did you come?”

Spencer let out a groan of embarrassment, covering his face with his hands. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever known,” he muttered, though his tone was light and playful.

Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling up and filling the room with a sense of joy and comfort. She pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look. “It’s not my fault you’re an overachiever, Doctor Reid,” she teased, playfully poking his side.

Spencer chuckled, dropping his hands and meeting her gaze with a fond smile. “I’m just thorough,” he replied, playing along with her teasing.

“Clearly,” Y/N said with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips before reluctantly getting up from the couch.

They both stood up, sharing a glance that was a mixture of amusement and affection.

“Let’s get changed before we traumatize your couch any further,” Y/N suggested, shaking her head with a mock-serious expression.

“Good plan,” Spencer agreed, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

They headed toward the bedroom, the sense of closeness and companionship between them stronger than ever.

—

The next morning, it was Spencer who woke up alone this time. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He blinked awake, momentarily disoriented before remembering the events of the night before. A smile tugged at his lips as he replayed the images of Y/N writhing in his lap, her warmth and presence still lingering in his senses.

He heard the shower running, a soft melody of water against tiles, and felt a thrill of excitement rather than the usual pang of morning urgency. Unlike at the wedding, this time he was delighted to know Y/N was showering in his apartment, sharing his space, and he didn’t even feel irrationally sex-hungry. Perhaps it was due to the satisfying first orgasm he had technically experienced with the help of another human being—the woman who had completely entranced him.

As he lay there, reliving the vivid memories of their shared moments, the sound of the shower stopped, and he imagined Y/N stepping out, droplets of water clinging to her skin, a vision of beauty and mischief.

And Y/N did have a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she turned toward the bedroom, a plan already cooking in her head that Spencer should have smelled from a mile away. Her playful nature was something he had grown to love, even when it caught him off guard.

“Hey, Spence?” she called out, her voice echoing slightly from the bathroom.

“Yeah, babe?” Spencer replied casually, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally. Babe—he liked the way it felt, like a secret only they shared.

“I forgot my towel,” she announced, the words heavy with intention and familiarity. A wicked sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer, recalling a similar situation back at the wedding.

"That's okay, there's extra in—" Spencer's words were choked off into an incredulous cough as the bathroom door swung wide open.

Standing before him was an extremely nude Y/N, every inch of her skin glistening with droplets of water, her hair damp and cascading around her shoulders. She stood confidently in all her glory, a vision of boldness and allure that made Spencer's heart skip a beat.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he was rendered speechless, his brain struggling to process the breathtaking sight before him. A flush crept up his neck as he took in the scene, his pulse quickening at the sheer audacity and beauty of the woman he had fallen for.

Y/N flashed him a cheeky grin, thoroughly enjoying the effect she had on him. “You were saying?” she teased, her voice light and playful as she sauntered toward him.

Spencer swallowed hard, finally finding his voice amidst the delightful chaos she had unleashed within him. “I, uh—” he stammered, trying and failing to keep his eyes from wandering.

“Cat got your tongue, Doctor Reid?” Y/N teased, stopping just short of the bed, her gaze playful and inviting.

Spencer cleared his throat, his mind racing as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. “It’s like you’re testing the strength of my heart,” he managed to say, his voice a strain of amusement and awe.

“I suppose I am,” Y/N replied, pretending to ponder the situation as she placed a hand on her hip, striking a pose that was both teasing and tantalizing.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with humor and appreciation. He reached out, grabbing the corner of the sheet to offer it to her, but Y/N shook her head, stepping closer instead.

“I think I’m fine without it,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Unless you mind, of course.”

Spencer chuckled, a blend of amusement and admiration coloring his voice. “Not at all,” he murmured, reaching out to grab Y/N by the hips, his fingers eager to pull her close again.

But before he could, Y/N stepped back quickly, a playful glint in her eye. “Doctor, I need a towel, not your hands! I just got clean.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, both surprised and entertained by her unexpected retreat. “Y/N, you just walked out naked. You’re standing in front of me naked.”

“And I expect you, as a gracious host, to help me cover my modesty and find a towel,” she replied, her tone mockingly prim as she crossed her arms, making no move to cover herself any further.

“You’re really going to cover up?” Spencer asked, skepticism laced with humor as he watched her. The entire scene felt like a cat-and-mouse game, one he was more than willing to play.

“Duh,” Y/N said, her lips curving into a teasing smile that told him she was enjoying every second of his reaction.

Spencer shook his head, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You walked out here, completely nude, just to tease me?”

“An astute observation, Doctor,” Y/N replied, nodding in mock approval. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, delighting in the effect she had on him.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and genuine. Her antics were just as endearing as they were infuriating, and he found himself utterly captivated by the playful energy she brought into his life.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Spencer said, rising from the bed and grabbing a towel from a nearby chair. He tossed it over to her, shaking his head in disbelief at her cheekiness.

Y/N caught the towel, draping it loosely around her shoulders with a victorious grin. “I aim to keep you on your toes, Spence.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded,” Spencer replied, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of challenge. “But don’t think I’ll forget this. I’ll get you back when you least expect it.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N said, her voice holding anticipation and defiance as she turned to head back toward the bathroom, the towel trailing behind her like a cape.

Spencer watched her go, a smile playing on his lips. He loved this side of her—the confident, teasing side that could drive him to the brink of madness with a single look.

As she disappeared around the corner, Spencer settled back onto the bed, his mind already racing with thoughts of how he might turn the tables next time. He knew that with Y/N, every moment was an adventure, one that promised both laughter and love in equal measure.

—

Breakfast was eaten between syrupy kisses and crossword puzzles, everything Spencer had ever wanted. The kitchen was filled with the warm aroma of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee, a cozy backdrop for their intimate morning routine.

Y/N sat across from Spencer at the small kitchen table, her hair still slightly damp from her shower, a playful smile on her lips as she scribbled answers into the crossword puzzle book they shared. Every now and then, she would lean over to plant a sweet, sticky kiss on Spencer’s cheek, leaving behind a faint trace of maple syrup that made him smile.

“This one’s tricky,” Y/N murmured, tapping the pencil against her chin as she pondered a clue. “Six-letter word for ‘mysterious’?”

Spencer glanced over, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Enigma,” he suggested, his voice soft and soothing. “Though I’m sure you already knew that.”

Y/N chuckled, scribbling the word into the grid. “You make it sound so easy, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer shrugged, a modest grin playing on his lips. “Crossword puzzles are my specialty. Along with word jumbles, logic puzzles, and, apparently, pancakes.”

“Mm, and you excel at all of them,” Y/N teased, reaching for another kiss, the gesture sweet and unhurried.

The morning light streamed through the window, casting a golden hue over the room and making the moment feel even more special. It was one of those rare, perfect mornings where everything seemed to align—a moment of peace and contentment that Spencer cherished deeply.

As they continued to work through the crossword together, their laughter echoed softly, mingling with the clink of cutlery and the rustle of crossword pages. Spencer marveled at how effortlessly they fit together, how natural it felt to share these simple pleasures with someone who understood him so completely.

With each kiss and every playful word exchanged, Spencer felt the bond between them grow stronger, solidifying the foundation of their relationship. It was in these quiet, everyday moments that he realized just how much Y/N meant to him, how much he wanted this—wanted her in his life, now and always.

“Ready for another clue?” Y/N asked, pulling him back to the present with a gentle nudge.

“Always,” Spencer replied, his eyes meeting hers with adoration and excitement. “What’ve you got?”

“Five-letter word for ‘home,’” she said, her gaze softening as she looked at him, her meaning clear.

Spencer paused, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He knew the answer immediately, a word that perfectly encapsulated everything they were building together. “Vegas,” he answered, the word carrying a weight of love and nostalgia.

Y/N nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she wrote it down, her heart full. “I like that answer. But you’re wrong.”

They exchanged another kiss, this one lingering and full of promise, the crossword forgotten for the moment as they lost themselves in each other.

—

Spencer Reid was a lot of things: a genius, an awkward yet endearing conversationalist, a talented magician, a loyal friend, and a speed reader. But one thing he was not was sexually experienced. Despite this, he wasn't going to let that minor detail stop him from getting payback on Y/N during her stay. The morning she teased him had been a wake-up call of sorts, and he found himself eagerly anticipating a way to surprise her in return.

They hadn’t gone past kissing and last night when Spencer had come in his pants. He was perfectly fine waiting; they didn’t ever have to go further. He just loved being with her. He loved her. But that was beside the point right now. The point was payback.

When Y/N mentioned wanting to visit a thrift shop she had read about online, Spencer seized the opportunity to do some research of his own. He found himself diving into a realm he had yet to explore: the art of sensual teasing.

Specifically, Spencer found himself gravitating towards articles and forums on how to tame your brat—a playful concept he found oddly fitting given Y/N's penchant for teasing him. He learned about the subtle balance of power and playfulness and how to channel his own awkward charm into something more confident and commanding.

With the new information burned into his eidetic memory, Spencer was rather excited for Y/N's return. The anticipation thrummed through him, nervousness and excitement in his veins as he rehearsed his plan in his mind. He wanted to surprise her, to take back some of the playful control she had over him, and show her a side of himself that was both new and thrilling.

When Y/N walked through the door, she noticed Spencer wasn't in immediate view. "Spence?" she called out, her voice laced with curiosity.

"In here," he yelled back, a little breathlessly.

Y/N followed the sound of his voice into the bedroom, and what she saw made her stop in her tracks. Spencer was lying on the bed, shirtless and clad only in his briefs, his hand teasingly palming his cock, clearly getting himself worked up.

"Wh—what are you doing?" she stammered, her eyes widening at the unexpected sight before her.

"Sit down," Spencer instructed, nodding toward the chair in the corner of the room.

Y/N felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness as she followed his instructions, taking a seat with wide eyes, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before her.

"...Spence?" she ventured cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

"You have done nothing but tease and taunt me," Spencer began, his voice low and steady, laced with an edge of playful bravery. "I told you I'd get you back."

Her mind raced, anticipation and trepidation swirling within her. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she offered, trying to gauge his intentions.

“Oh, I’m not upset,” Spencer chuckled darkly, his eyes filled with a promise of what was to come. “You might be after this.”

Y/N felt a delicious tingle run down her spine at his words, realizing that the tables had turned in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Spencer pushed his briefs down, feeling the cool air against his skin as he continued to touch himself. His movements were slow and deliberate, his hand gliding over his length, each stroke building tension within him. He maintained eye contact with Y/N, his eyes dark with desire and intent.

“Watch me,” he commanded softly, his voice a blend of seduction and challenge. The words were an invitation and a demand, meant to draw her in and show her the effect she had on him. He wanted her to witness every moment, every sensation, the pleasure he derived from taking control.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth dry with anticipation. She sat on the chair, completely captivated by the sight before her. Spencer, usually so reserved and thoughtful, was now fully in command, his confidence tangible and alluring. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, drawn to the way he moved, the way he seemed to revel in the moment.

As Spencer’s hand moved with increasing intensity, his breathing grew heavier. Each stroke was a testament to the electric tension between them, the room filled with the soft sounds of his pleasure. He was keenly aware of the effect he was having on her, the way her eyes followed his every move, and it fueled him, driving him closer to the edge.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Spencer asked, a teasing glint in his eye as he observed her reaction. His voice was low and husky, laced with both challenge and triumph.

Y/N nodded, unable to find her voice as she watched him. Her heart raced, a blend of arousal and admiration coursing through her. She was seeing a side of Spencer that was both familiar and entirely new—a side that was thrilling in its unexpected intensity.

Spencer’s pace quickened, his hand moving faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He let out a soft moan, the sound sending a shiver of excitement through Y/N. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the heat of her own desire, knowing that this moment was for her as much as it was for him.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Spencer reached his climax. His body trembled as he gave in to the release, the waves of pleasure washing over him with unexpected force. His release reached up his chest, getting mixed in the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

He lay there for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, the room filled with a charged silence that seemed to echo the intensity of the experience they had just shared.

Y/N watched him with wide eyes, her heart pounding, feeling the heat of the moment settle between them. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his unexpected confidence and the way he had managed to turn the tables so effectively.

Spencer finally sat up, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he met her gaze. “How was that for payback?” he asked, a playful lilt to his voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, a smile breaking across her face. “I’d say you win,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement and admiration.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a swell of pride at her words. He had surprised himself with his ability to take control and turn the tables, and her reaction was everything he had hoped for.

"I'm glad you think so," Spencer said, his tone playful yet filled with genuine affection. He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still fixed on Y/N, who remained seated in the chair, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

“You really got me,” she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief at the unexpected turn of events. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer grinned, relishing the moment. “I told you I’d get you back for this morning,” he said, referencing her earlier teasing with a knowing glance. “Consider us even.”

Y/N stood up from the chair and made her way over to the bed, sitting beside him. She reached out and traced a finger along his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. “I have to admit, it’s kind of hot seeing you like this,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Spencer’s heart raced at her words. He reached up and gently cupped her face, drawing her closer until their foreheads touched. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

They stayed like that for a moment, savoring the intimacy and the sense of closeness that had blossomed between them. It was a nod to their journey, a reminder of how far they had come and the exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what’s next on your agenda, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer laughed, feeling a surge of happiness at her playful question. “Well, I think we’ve earned a little break,” he suggested, his tone light-hearted. “Maybe some dessert?”

“How about a shower?” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Spencer agreed, glancing down at himself. “I’m sorry I made such a mess.”

“Are you kidding?” Y/N replied, leaning in to punctuate her words with kisses. “Dr. Reid, it was—” kiss “so—” kiss “fucking—” kiss “sexy.”

Spencer laughed, his heart swelling with affection and desire. He pulled her closer, kissing her swiftly, his lips capturing hers with a sense of urgency. “Okay, okay. I’ll go shower,” he said, trying to play it cool but failing to hide his growing excitement.

“Not without me,” Y/N whispered, her voice a sultry promise that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

Her words lingered in the air, charged with anticipation. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the idea of showering together both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But the look in Y/N's eyes—filled with warmth and an unmistakable invitation—washed away any doubts he had.

“Alright,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice as he stood up, pulling her with him. “Lead the way.”

Y/N giggled, taking his hand and guiding him toward the bathroom. The space was small but intimate, creating a soft haze that enveloped them both.

As Y/N began to strip off her clothes, Spencer moved to help her, his fingers gently brushing against her skin as her clothes fell from her body. Throughout the entire process, he maintained eye contact with her, his gaze steady and filled with an electrifying combination of tenderness and desire.

The intensity of their bond was unmistakable, as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own private bubble. Spencer marveled at the trust Y/N placed in him, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and admiration for the woman standing before him.

Once she was undressed, Spencer took her hand, leading her to the shower. As they stepped inside, Y/N turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. The warm spray cascaded down, creating a comforting cocoon around them.

Spencer watched her, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. He had never done anything like this before—this level of intimacy was new territory—but the thought of being so close to her, of sharing this experience, was exhilarating.

It was a moment of discovery, a chance to explore the depths of their relationship in a way that went beyond words. The water enveloped them, washing away any lingering doubts or fears, leaving only the promise of what they could build together.

The water cascaded down in a soothing rhythm, and Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. “Can I wash you, Doctor?”

Spencer nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he stepped under the warm spray with her. The water was a comforting embrace that seemed to wash away any lingering tension or apprehension.

Y/N reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands before gently running them over Spencer’s chest, her touch tender and intimate. Spencer shivered, the sensation of her hands on his skin sending waves of pleasure through him.

He mirrored her actions, his fingers gliding over her shoulders and down her back, marveling at the softness of her skin and the closeness they shared. It was a new kind of intimacy, one that felt both thrilling and natural, as if they were meant to be this way.

The steam swirled around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy, the outside world fading into the background. In this moment, it was just them—two people exploring a newfound closeness.

Y/N tilted her head back, letting the water cascade over her face, her laughter echoing softly in the confined space. Spencer watched her, entranced by the way she seemed to glow with happiness, her joy infectious and intoxicating.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, glancing at him with a teasing smile, her eyes glimmering with affection.

Spencer shook his head, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. “No, I need to do something,” he said, his voice producing urgency and sincerity.

“Oh, what is it, baby?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she tried to read his intentions.

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” Spencer replied, his tone firm yet reassuring.

Y/N nodded, anticipation building as she trusted him completely, not knowing exactly what to expect but excited by the promise of his words.

Spencer gently turned her so she was facing the wall, guiding her movements with a steady hand until she was in the position he envisioned. Her heart raced as she felt his hands on her skin, the water cascading over them adding a layer of sensuality to the moment.

“Spence?” Y/N’s voice was soft, a mixture of curiosity and desire as she braced herself with her hands against the cool tile.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he knelt down behind her, his breath warm against her skin.

“Mhm,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, the sensation of his presence behind her sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

With Y/N's consent, Spencer took a deep breath, grounding himself in the moment. He placed his hands gently on her hips, his touch reverent and full of care. The water continued to pour over them, the rhythmic sound creating a backdrop for the moment they were about to share.

Spencer let his hands glide over her skin, taking his time to explore and savor the feeling. He marveled at the way she trusted him, how she let herself be vulnerable in a way that mirrored his own vulnerability. It was a dance of intimacy and exploration, one that was both thrilling and deeply meaningful.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that surprised even her. She felt the heat of the water mix with the warmth of his hands, the combination creating a heady sensation that left her breathless.

Spencer leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on the small of her back, his lips tracing a path of gentle affection. He wanted her to feel cherished, to know that every action was infused with love and desire. His hands continued to wander, exploring the curves of her body, his touch becoming more assured with each passing moment.

The tension between them built, a substantial energy that crackled in the air. Spencer let his fingers dance along her thighs, the touch light and teasing, coaxing soft gasps from her lips. His fingers found her clit, brushing against it with a feather-light touch that made her shiver with anticipation.

"Is this good?" Spencer asked, his voice a husky whisper, full of hope and longing.

Y/N nodded, her eyes closed as she let herself be carried away by the sensations he was creating. "It’s perfect," she breathed.

Encouraged by her response, Spencer continued his tender ministrations, his fingers rubbing over her clit with increasing confidence. He relished the way her body reacted to his touch, each soft moan and gasp fueling his desire to please her. Every tremor, every whisper of his name, was a reminder that she was here, Spencer was the one causing her pleasure.

Spencer couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to have his mouth on her. His desire had reached a fever pitch, and the thought of tasting her, of bringing her even closer to the edge, was irresistible.

With a firm but gentle hand on Y/N’s lower back, he urged her to arch further, creating a perfect angle for him to reach her core with his mouth. Her skin was warm under his touch, the water heightening the sensations that danced between them.

Spencer leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her skin before he pressed his lips to her clit. He started with a soft kiss, savoring the anticipation before letting his tongue trace a slow, deliberate path up her lips. The taste of her was intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and desire that left him wanting more.

Y/N’s response was immediate and electric, her body reacting to the touch with an intensity that matched his own longing. Her fingers curled against the tile wall, seeking purchase as she let out a breathy moan, a sound that resonated deep within Spencer.

He continued to explore with his tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firmer, more purposeful strokes that elicited a symphony of pleasure from her. Her hips instinctively pushed back towards him, her body urging him to continue, to take her higher.

Spencer was more than happy to oblige, his focus unwavering as he lavished attention on her clit, every movement calculated to bring her closer to that exquisite edge. The steam swirled around them, creating an intimate cocoon where nothing existed but the two of them and the ties they were deepening with every touch, every kiss.

Y/N’s breathing grew ragged, her soft cries filling the bathroom as Spencer’s ministrations drove her closer to climax. She felt the world narrowing to this singular moment, the sensation of his mouth on her, consuming her completely.

Spencer, attuned to every shift in her body, could feel her approaching release. He intensified his efforts, his mouth working to push her over the edge.

With a final, fervent stroke of his tongue, Y/N shattered, the wave of her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Spencer held her steady as she came on his tongue, his hands firm on her hips as he helped her ride out the storm.

As the echoes of her climax faded, they remained entwined under the shower’s warm spray, the link between them even stronger than before. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to her hip, a silent promise of his devotion and the joy they found in each other.

Finally, he helped her stand upright, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow in the steamy sanctuary of the shower. The warmth of the water mingled with the warmth of their bodies, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt both timeless and precious.

Y/N turned in his arms, looking up at him with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “You have something on your face, Doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with humor and affection.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do I?” he replied, feigning ignorance as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you do,” Y/N insisted, reaching up to gently swipe at a lingering droplet of water on his cheek. Her touch was light, yet it sent a thrill through Spencer, a reminder of the electric chemistry between them.

He captured her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips. “Well, thank you for pointing that out,” he said, his voice a low murmur as he looked into her eyes, filled with a warmth that spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him as she savored the comfort and closeness of their embrace. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice carrying a note of affection that made his heart swell.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, the words slipping out naturally, carrying the weight of everything he felt for her. He had never been more certain of anything in his life, and saying it aloud felt both exhilarating and profoundly right.

“I know,” Y/N replied, her smile warm and knowing. She could feel the truth of his words in the way he held her, in the gentle strength of his embrace. Her acknowledgment without fear was enough for Spencer right now—a silent promise of the love they were building together, day by day.

Spencer held her close, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms. They stood together in the shower, the world outside forgotten, their laughter and the sound of the water the only things that mattered in that moment. It was a perfect bubble of intimacy, a sanctuary where they could be completely themselves.

Eventually, they turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping themselves in towels as they continued to exchange soft words and lingering glances, the connection between them as strong as ever. They moved in a seamless dance of familiarity and affection.

Y/N handed Spencer a towel, her eyes meeting his with a playfulness that belied the deep emotions they had just shared. The air between them was filled with a sense of contentment, as if they had discovered a new layer of their relationship that was both thrilling and comforting.

Spencer took the towel with a grateful smile, gently drying himself off as he watched Y/N do the same. Her movements were graceful and unhurried, and he found himself captivated by the simple beauty of the moment.

—

That night, they lay side by side in bed, Spencer reading aloud to Y/N as requested. His voice, a soothing blend of warmth and familiarity, wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room, highlighting the serene expressions on their faces.

Spencer was lost in the rhythm of the words, his voice weaving a gentle narrative that lulled Y/N into a state of relaxation. The comfort of the moment, the intimacy of sharing a book, felt perfect.

“Baby?” Y/N interrupted softly, her voice a quiet murmur in the peaceful silence.

“Hmm?” Spencer replied, not breaking his reading stride but glancing over at her with a soft smile.

“Can I meet your friends?” she asked, her tone light yet carrying an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

Spencer paused in his reading, a playful glint in his eyes. “That’s a tough one,” he said, closing the book and setting it aside, focusing all his attention on her.

“Huh? Why?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she turned to face him.

“Well, how would I introduce you? ‘Hi, this is Y/N. I saw her boobs, but we’re just buddies,’” Spencer teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

Y/N smiled knowingly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Get to the point, Ock,” she urged, giving him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the truth of his feelings welling up inside him. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long finally found their way out. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice sincere and full of hope.

Y/N pretended to ponder his question, her smile widening. “Depends,” she said, drawing out the word playfully, her eyes sparkling with affection.

He wasn’t even nervous this time. “Oh yeah? On what?” he inquired, a playful challenge in his tone as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at her more closely.

“Will you scratch my back before bed?” Y/N replied, her expression shifting to one of playful earnestness as she held his gaze.

Spencer laughed, a sound filled with warmth and happiness. “I think that can be arranged,” he said, reaching over to gently run his fingers down her back, the touch light and affectionate.

Y/N leaned into his touch, feeling the comfort that defined their relationship. “Then yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend,” she said, her voice full of sincerity and excitement.

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words, at the simple exchange. They lay there for a while, enjoying the quiet comfort of the moment, the room filled with a sense of contentment and love that made everything else fade away.

As they settled in for the night, Spencer’s hand continued its soothing path along her back, a gentle promise of the future. Y/N closed her eyes, feeling a profound sense of peace as she drifted off to sleep, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be—with him.

—

Spencer knew how much Y/N loved wine, and he wanted to recreate a little bit of their Napa Valley trip to make their introduction to his team memorable. After some thought, he decided to ask Rossi, his friend and colleague, if he would host a wine tasting at his elegant estate.

Rossi, always the gracious host and a fellow wine enthusiast, immediately agreed, delighted at the prospect of meeting Y/N. He had been eager to meet the woman who had captured Spencer’s heart, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

The evening was set. Rossi promised to prepare a selection of his finest wines and a spread of delicious hors d'oeuvres to complement the tasting. The stage was perfectly set for Y/N to meet Spencer’s friends in a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere.

As they arrived at Rossi’s grand estate, Spencer and Y/N held hands, a subtle but unmistakable sign of their relationship. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the vineyard, and the air was filled with the promise of a perfect evening.

Rossi greeted them at the door with his usual charm, extending a warm welcome. “Spencer! Y/N! So glad you could make it,” he said, giving Spencer a shoulder pat before turning to Y/N. “And you must be the famous Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N smiled, feeling instantly at ease with Rossi’s friendly demeanor. “All good things, I hope,” she replied with a laugh, squeezing Spencer’s hand for reassurance.

“Of course, all good things,” Rossi assured her, gesturing for them to come inside. “Make yourselves at home. We’ve got a lovely selection for you tonight.”

As they entered the elegantly decorated living room, Y/N marveled at the surroundings. The room was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a roaring fireplace, creating a cozy ambiance. Several bottles of wine were artfully arranged on a table, each accompanied by a description card and a plate of carefully paired appetizers.

The rest of the team was already there, mingling and chatting, their laughter filling the room. Spencer introduced Y/N to each of them, his pride evident in the way he spoke about her.

“Y/N, you remember Derek Morgan,” Spencer said, introducing her to the man who had become one of his closest friends.

Derek grinned, offering a firm handshake. “Nice to officially meet you, Y/N. Spencer talks about you all the time.”

Y/N returned the handshake, her nerves dissipating with each friendly face she encountered. “Nice to see you again, Derek,” she replied warmly. “Spencer probably talks about you more.”

“And this is Penelope Garcia,” Spencer continued, leading Y/N to the vibrant and colorful tech analyst.

Penelope enveloped Y/N in a warm hug, her enthusiasm infectious. “I’m so happy to meet you! Anyone who makes Spencer this happy is a friend of mine,” she declared with a wink.

Y/N laughed, charmed by Penelope’s vivacious personality. “It’s great to meet you too, Penelope. I love your energy!”

Spencer then introduced her to Emily Prentiss, JJ, and Aaron Hotchner, each of them welcoming her with genuine smiles and friendly conversation. It was clear that Spencer’s colleagues were more than just coworkers—they were like family, and they were eager to include Y/N in their circle.

Once everyone had settled, Rossi took the lead, introducing each wine with the flair of a seasoned connoisseur. He explained the origins of each bottle, the notes and flavors they could expect, and the perfect pairings he had selected.

The group moved through the tasting, savoring each wine and the lively conversation that accompanied it. Y/N found herself laughing and sharing stories, feeling completely at ease in their company.

As they reached the end of the tasting, Spencer caught Y/N’s eye, giving her a soft smile that conveyed his happiness and pride. She smiled back, feeling grateful for the warmth and acceptance she had received from his friends.

Rossi raised his glass, capturing everyone’s attention. “To new friends and old friends,” he began, his voice resonating with sincerity. “And to Y/N, for making our Spencer so incredibly happy. Welcome to the family.”

Everyone echoed the toast, glasses clinking as they celebrated the new addition to their group. Y/N felt a swell of emotion at the genuine welcome, her heart full with the realization that she was not just meeting Spencer’s team, but becoming a part of something bigger—a community that supported each other, much like a family.

As the evening continued, Y/N and Spencer found themselves stealing moments together amidst the laughter and conversation. It was a perfect night.

—

“Can we go for a walk?” Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looked at Spencer. The wine had left her feeling a little bold and adventurous, and the thought of a late-night stroll seemed like the perfect way to end the evening.

“It’s nearly 12 a.m., Y/N,” Spencer replied, raising an eyebrow at her suggestion. He tried to sound firm, but he knew that tone of hers all too well—the one that said she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“You’re in the FBI. You can keep us safe,” she insisted, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at her persistence. “Yeah, okay,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I once had a man tell me I look like a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

Y/N burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet of the night. “That is so accurate!” she managed to say between giggles, leaning against him for support.

“We’re not going for a walk,” Spencer declared, crossing his arms in mock defiance.

Y/N’s laughter subsided, replaced by a stubborn look that he knew all too well. “Then I’m going alone,” she said, raising her chin in challenge.

“Like hell you are, you nuisance,” Spencer shot back, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. He shook his head, knowing he was already defeated. “Alright, alright. Let’s go for a walk.”

Y/N grinned triumphantly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the door. “You won’t regret it,” she promised, her excitement palpable.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Despite his earlier protests, he found himself looking forward to the adventure, the chance to share another moment with her in the quiet, starlit night.

They walked hand in hand, the world around them hushed and serene. The stars twinkled above, a canopy of lights that mirrored the joy and companionship they felt in each other's presence.

Spencer glanced over at Y/N, her face illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a surge of affection for the woman beside him. She had a way of making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary, and he realized he wouldn’t trade this walk—or her company—for anything.

“So, where are we headed?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Y/N shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Nowhere in particular,” she replied, swinging their linked hands playfully. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

Spencer chuckled, nodding in agreement as they continued their impromptu adventure. “Lead the way, troublemaker.”

They walked for a bit in silence, just enjoying each other's company. The night was cool, the gentle breeze carrying the distant hum of the city, a perfect backdrop for their midnight stroll. The moon cast a silvery glow on the path ahead, and their footsteps echoed softly in the stillness.

“You’re pretty bossy,” he teased, breaking the silence with a playful nudge. “Is this what it’s always going to be like when we’re married?”

The words slipped out before he could catch them, hanging in the air between them with a weight he hadn’t anticipated.

Y/N laughed, not even realizing the massive step she’d just taken with her response. “Yeah, probably,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue as if they were the most natural thing in the world.

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, the casual ease of her reply settling warmly in his chest. Her laughter was infectious, and he couldn’t help but join in, the sound of their shared amusement echoing softly in the night.

“Good to know,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone light, even as the implications of their exchange sank in.

Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes shining with humor and something deeper—something that spoke of the future they were daring to imagine together. The thought of it sent a thrill through him, feelings of excitement and wonder at the possibilities that lay ahead.

They continued their walk, the conversation flowing easily as they navigated the quiet streets. Spencer found himself stealing glances at Y/N, marveling at the way she seemed to light up the world around her, her presence a constant source of comfort and happiness.

After a while, they found themselves on a small bridge overlooking a gently flowing river. The water shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting the stars above, and the scene was so picturesque it felt almost surreal.

Y/N leaned against the railing, her gaze drifting over the water as she took in the beauty of the moment. Spencer joined her, standing behind her with his arms caging her in comfortably.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“All the time,” Spencer admitted, glancing down at her with a smile. “Especially now.”

She looked at him, curiosity and affection mingling in her expression. “And what do you see?”

He considered the question, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his feelings. “I see... a lot of things,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “But mostly, I see us. Together.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with happiness at his words. “Me too,” she said, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. “I can’t imagine it any other way.”

They stood there for a while, wrapped in the serenity of the night and the warmth of each other’s presence. It was a moment that felt timeless, a promise of the love and adventure they would share in the days to come.

—

Y/N had been with Spencer for a week and a half now, and their time together was almost done. The thought of her leaving weighed heavily on both of them, a heavy presence that seemed to linger in the air.

Their days had been filled with laughter, exploration, and the simple joy of being together. From shared breakfasts to late-night conversations, every moment was bittersweet evidence of their relationship—a bond that felt as if it had always been there, waiting to be discovered.

But now, as their time drew to a close, a quiet sadness crept in, mingling with the happiness they had shared. They both felt it, an unspoken acknowledgment of the distance that would soon separate them once more.

—

On their last morning together, they sat at the kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee and savoring the tranquility of the moment. The morning light filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, but even the sunshine couldn’t chase away the bittersweet feeling that lingered between them.

Y/N looked across the table at Spencer, her heart aching at the thought of saying goodbye. She had grown accustomed to his presence, to the comfort of having him by her side, and the idea of returning to her life in Las Vegas felt strangely daunting.

“Do we have to talk about it?” Spencer asked, his voice soft yet carrying the weight of their impending separation. He looked at her with longing and resignation, as if hoping that by not acknowledging it, they could somehow postpone the inevitable.

Y/N shook her head, offering him a small, understanding smile. “Not yet,” she replied, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Let’s just enjoy today.”

He squeezed her hand, grateful for the reprieve, even if only temporary. “Deal,” he said, his tone light despite the heaviness in his heart.

—

They spent the day exploring the city, visiting the places they loved most. Spencer took her to the Smithsonian, sharing stories about his favorite exhibits with the enthusiasm and wonder that never failed to captivate her. They wandered through the National Gallery of Art, losing themselves in the beauty of the paintings, and then strolled hand in hand along the Potomac River, the gentle breeze carrying with it the memories they were creating.

As the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, they found themselves at a small, charming café, the kind that promised warmth and comfort with every sip. They sat outside, sipping coffee and talking about everything and nothing, allowing the moment to wrap around them like a soft embrace.

Y/N watched Spencer as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he loved, the way his smile seemed to hold the entire world in its warmth. She felt a pang of sadness, knowing that she would miss these moments most of all—the quiet intimacy, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging that came from simply being with him.

—

That evening, they decided to cook dinner together, wanting to savor every last moment. The kitchen was filled with the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking glasses, their movements synchronized in a dance of familiarity and affection.

As they prepared their meal, they stole kisses and shared soft laughter, the knowledge of their approaching separation hanging over them like a shadow. Yet, they refused to let it dampen their spirits, determined to make the most of the time they had left.

Once dinner was ready, they sat down at the table, candlelight flickering gently between them. The conversation flowed easily, a tapestry of shared memories and hopes for the future, each word a tribute to the connection they had built.

—

After dinner, they moved to the living room, settling on the couch with a sense of quiet contentment. Y/N nestled against Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder as they talked about the past few days and what lay ahead.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time for you to go,” Spencer said, his voice tinged with regret. He traced gentle patterns on her arm, finding solace in the simple act of holding her close.

“I know,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I could stay longer.”

Spencer nodded, understanding the pull of responsibility that awaited her in Las Vegas. “Me too,” he admitted, the words carrying a weight of their own. “But I’m grateful for the time we’ve had.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and longing. “We’ll make it work,” she said, preservation in her voice. “We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.”

Spencer smiled, heartened by her resolve. “You’re right,” he agreed, his voice steady with conviction. “We will.”

—

The gentle chime of Y/N's alarm broke the silence of the morning, its sound a stark reminder of the day neither of them wanted to face. Y/N needed to be up early to catch her flight back home, but Spencer refused to let go of her, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

Y/N felt the weight of the moment settle heavily in her chest. They were both distraught, the impending separation looming over them like a dark cloud. As she lay there, feeling the warmth of Spencer's embrace, tears began to well in her eyes, spilling over as she realized how deeply her leaving was affecting him.

Spencer, ever attuned to her emotions, noticed the subtle shaking of her body and moved to hover over her, wanting to see her face and offer comfort. His brow furrowed with concern as he brushed away her tears with gentle fingers, his heart aching at the sight of her distress.

Before Spencer could say or ask anything, Y/N found her voice, though it was tinged with the raw emotion she felt. "I love you too," she said, the words escaping in a whisper that carried all the weight of her heart.

In that moment, Spencer's world shifted. The confession was unexpected yet deeply desired, a truth that resonated within him, echoing the love he had been holding for her. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her more passionately than ever before, pouring all his emotions into the tender meeting of their lips.

The kiss was an affirmation, a shared promise of everything they felt for one another. It was filled with longing and relief, the culmination of all the moments they had shared and the dreams they held for the future. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them in their bubble of love.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Spencer, pulling him closer, losing herself in the warmth and security of his embrace. It was as if time stood still, and all that mattered was the beating of their hearts, synced in perfect harmony. The room was filled with a charged silence, the air thick with the unspoken promises that hung between them.

Spencer could feel the rapid thud of his own heart, each beat echoing the depth of his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to savor every second they had left before she had to leave. Their breaths mingled, a shared rhythm that they had built over time.

All of their emotions were on display in that moment, vulnerability and desire intertwining in a dance that felt as old as time itself. Y/N’s fingers traced a gentle path along his back, a silent plea for more, for closeness, for the intimacy they both craved.

She reached down, her hand finding Spencer’s hardening length, the touch both bold and tender. It was a signal, a declaration of what she wanted, what she needed from him in that moment. Spencer’s breath hitched at her touch, his body responding eagerly to the invitation.

With a soft sigh, he nodded in understanding, his eyes dark with passion as he moved to accommodate her silent request. His fingers brushed against her skin, gently pushing down her shorts and underwear, leaving her bare beneath him.

The cool air kissed her exposed skin, but it was Spencer’s touch that ignited the fire within her. Every caress was deliberate, infused with the love and desire that had been simmering between them. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve with a reverence that left her breathless.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of longing and devotion that spoke of all the words they couldn’t say. It was a kiss that consumed them, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. Spencer’s hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as if she might slip away at any moment.

Y/N arched into him when he pushed inside of her, her body an unconscious show of the need that had built up over their time together. She wanted to memorize this moment, to etch it into her memory for the days they would spend apart. The feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of his breath on her lips, the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Spencer’s touch was gentle yet insistent, a perfect balance of tenderness and need. He marveled at the way her body responded to his, every sigh and gasp a symphony that played just for him. He wanted to show her, through touch and whispered words, just how much she meant to him.

As they moved together, the world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a moment of pure intimacy. Spencer’s hands traced a path of fire across her skin, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow of the love he felt so deeply.

Their connection was electric, a powerful force that drew them ever closer, bridging the distance that would soon separate them. Spencer could feel the emotion welling up inside him, a tidal wave of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, yet he welcomed it, embraced it.

Y/N’s hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. She felt the heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, and knew that this was where she belonged—in his arms, lost in the world they had created together.

With every movement, every shared breath, they told a story—a story of love and longing, of dreams and promises yet to be fulfilled. It was a story that had begun long before this moment, and one that would continue long after they parted ways.

The crescendo of their shared experience built to a peak, an overwhelming wave of sensation that swept them both away. They surrendered to it, allowing themselves to be carried by the tide of their emotions, losing themselves in the depth of their love.

As the world slowly came back into focus, they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the link between them stronger than ever. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his heart full of the love that had bloomed between them.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words a promise of the future they would build together, no matter the distance that lay ahead.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet filled with unwavering certainty.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their shared intimacy, knowing that this was just the beginning of the journey they would embark on together.

—

The goodbyes at the airport were tearful and depressing beyond belief. Spencer and Y/N stood at the gate, holding each other tightly, as if letting go would shatter the fragile world they had built together. Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her heart heavy with the weight of leaving.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Spencer nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Me too. Call me as soon as you can.”

They pulled back just enough to look at each other, memorizing every detail of their faces before the inevitable separation. Spencer brushed a tear from Y/N’s cheek, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting down the days until I see you again.”

Y/N nodded, unable to find words as she fought to keep her composure. With one last lingering kiss, they parted, their fingers reluctantly slipping away from each other as she turned to board her flight.

Spencer watched her go, his heart aching with every step she took away from him. As she disappeared from view, he took a deep breath, holding onto the promise of their future together.

—

Spencer returned home, his heart heavy with the absence of Y/N. As he closed the door behind him, the silence of his apartment enveloped him, a stark contrast to the warmth and laughter that had filled the space just days before.

He dropped his bag by the door, leaning against it for support as the weight of the day settled on his shoulders. For a moment, he stood still, the reality of Y/N’s departure crashing over him like a wave.

He knew they hadn’t broken up—that their relationship was strong, built on a foundation of love and understanding. Yet, the emptiness left by her absence felt overwhelming, as if a part of him was missing.

Spencer made his way to the living room, each step heavy with the ache of longing. He sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands as emotions he had been holding at bay finally broke free. Tears spilled over, silent and unbidden, tracing a path down his cheeks as he allowed himself to feel the depth of his sorrow.

In that moment, he realized just how lucky he was to have someone who made saying goodbye so hard. Y/N had become such an integral part of his daily routine, bringing a light and joy that he hadn’t known he needed until it was gone.

He wiped his tears, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. The pain of parting was proof to the depth of their love, a love that would endure the distance and time apart.

Spencer knew he would see her again, that their paths would cross once more, bound by the ties of affection and the dreams they had yet to fulfill. Until then, he would hold onto the memories they had created, cherishing them as a reminder of everything they shared.

As Spencer got up to take his contacts out, his eyes stinging from the tears that had blurred his vision, he heard a knock at his door. The sound was unexpected, cutting through the quiet of his apartment and jolting him out of his emotional haze.

Confused and uncomfortable with his state, he hesitated. He considered ignoring it in favor of dealing with the immediate discomfort in his eyes. But the knocking persisted, each tap on the door a gentle insistence that demanded his attention.

Sighing, Spencer made his way to the bathroom, quickly removing his contacts and replacing them with his glasses. The relief was immediate, but his curiosity about the late visitor lingered. With his glasses firmly on his nose, he cautiously approached the door, his heart thudding in his chest.

When he finally opened it, the last person he expected to see was standing there, a familiar smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, baby,” Y/N said, her voice soft and full of warmth.

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat, disbelief and joy washing over him in equal measure. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the sight of her, wondering if he was dreaming.

“Y/N?” he finally managed to say, his voice tinged with awe.

She nodded, stepping forward to close the distance between them, her presence a balm to the ache that had settled in his heart. “Surprise,” she said, her smile widening as she wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

Spencer’s arms instinctively encircled her, pulling her close as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The reality of her being there, in his arms, was almost too much to process. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent that always seemed to calm him.

“How…?” he began, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching hers for answers. He couldn’t believe she was standing there, right in front of him.

Y/N smiled shyly, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. “Well, you see, I never got on the plane,” she confessed, biting her lip as she watched his reaction.

“You never got on the plane?” Spencer echoed, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding before him.

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head, her expression softening. “I called my boss.”

“Okay…” Spencer replied, still processing the unexpected turn of events.

“I quit my job,” she announced, a note of finality in her voice.

“What? Why?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. He knew how much she had dedicated to her work.

“I never liked that job anyway,” Y/N admitted, shrugging slightly as if shedding an old skin.

“You loved that job,” Spencer countered, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, but I can love another job too,” she said, her smile widening as she stepped inside the apartment with her luggage trailing behind, trying to act casual.

“True… but that doesn’t answer my question,” Spencer replied, closing the door and turning to face her, his heart pounding with hope and anticipation.

Y/N paused, taking a deep breath as she gathered her courage. She met his gaze, her eyes filled with sincerity and warmth. “I also called my building manager.”

“You did?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mhm. Turns out, breaking a lease isn’t that expensive when you’re month-to-month,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes.

“You broke your lease,” Spencer stated, surprise and admiration coloring his tone.

“Look at you keeping up,” Y/N teased, her voice light and teasing.

“Y/N…” Spencer began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

“I actually have a question for you,” Y/N said, stepping closer to him, her heart racing with excitement.

“Yes?” Spencer replied, his eyes locked on hers, feeling as if he were on the edge of something wonderful.

“How would you like to have a roommate?” she asked, her tone playful yet earnest. “She’s a little messy, snores a bit, hates to cook, terrible sense of humor, oh and get this, she’s unemployed and homeless.”

Spencer’s heart swelled with emotion, understanding dawning on him as a smile spread across his face. “She sounds like a handful,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

“You have big hands,” Y/N replied with a playful smirk.

“I’d love to have a roommate… under one condition,” Spencer continued.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nightly head scratches,” he replied, grinning.

Y/N grinned, feeling a rush of relief and happiness at his response. “Deal,” she said, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, feeling the weight of uncertainty lift from her shoulders.

Spencer hugged her tightly, his heart full of gratitude and love for the woman who had chosen to stay. In that moment, everything felt right, as if the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.

“You’re really staying?” Spencer whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, needing to hear her confirm it once more.

“I’m really staying,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with certainty and joy.

And with that, they both knew that they were embarking on a new chapter together.

—

Spencer found himself standing in Y/N’s Las Vegas apartment, surrounded by boxes and the faint smell of cardboard and packing tape. It was a chaotic scene, but he was happy to be there, helping Y/N make this big move.

“Billie, this is my boyfriend, Doc Ock,” Y/N introduced with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said, extending a hand with a friendly smile.

“I like Doc Ock,” Billie replied, shaking his hand with a smirk.

“So, there’s two of you... great,” Spencer said sarcastically, throwing a look at Y/N before playfully rolling his eyes. “I’ll be in the U-Haul if you need me.”

“No, you don’t, big guy,” Y/N called after him, laughing. “We need some muscle.”

Billie chuckled, watching Spencer walk away with a theatrical sigh. They turned to Y/N, who was already diving into the nearest pile of boxes.

“Your boyfriend is quite the character,” Billie noted, lifting a box marked "Kitchen" with ease.

“Tell me about it,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “He keeps life interesting, that’s for sure.”

Spencer, returning with a box of his own, joined the conversation. “Hey, just trying to make sure things don’t get too boring around here.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Billie replied, flashing a grin. “With you two, I doubt boredom is ever an issue.”

The trio continued packing, the apartment slowly transforming into a labyrinth of boxes and furniture wrapped in bubble wrap. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and lighthearted banter as they worked together.

Spencer found himself enjoying the easy dynamic between them, appreciating Billie’s quick wit and the comfortable rhythm they had established with Y/N. It felt like being part of a team, and he was grateful for the support and companionship they offered.

As the hours passed, they took a break, sitting on the floor with takeout boxes spread before them. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from memories of the past to dreams for the future.

“So, what’s the plan once you get to Virginia?” Billie asked, curiosity piqued.

Y/N glanced at Spencer, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Well, we’re going to settle in, explore the area, and just take it one day at a time,” she said, her voice filled with hope and anticipation.

“And maybe find a job I actually like,” Y/N added with a laugh, leaning into Spencer's side. “Something that feels right.”

Spencer nodded, his heart swelling with pride at her tenacity. “I have no doubt you’ll find something amazing,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Yeah, and in the meantime, you’ve got Doc Ock here to keep you entertained,” Billie teased, earning a chuckle from both of them.

As the day drew to a close, the apartment was finally packed up, ready for the move. They stood together, looking at the neatly stacked boxes and feeling a sense of accomplishment and excitement for the new chapter ahead.

“Thanks for everything, Billie,” Y/N said, pulling them into a hug. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Anytime, roomie,” Billie replied, their tone warm and affectionate. “And hey, Spencer, you’re not too bad yourself.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Spencer replied, smiling at the camaraderie they had built.

With the final box loaded into the U-Haul, they took one last look around the apartment, the memories they had made within its walls etched in their hearts.

“Ready?” Spencer asked, taking Y/N’s hand in his.

“Ready,” Y/N affirmed, feeling the thrill of the unknown mingling with the comfort of the familiar.

—

Spencer was filled with excitement and nervousness as he and Y/N drove through the scenic roads of Napa Valley, the picturesque vineyards stretching out on either side. The trip had been planned meticulously, a celebration of their one-year anniversary of dating and a nod to the place where their paths had crossed again five years prior.

“I can’t believe we’re back here,” Y/N said, gazing out the window, her eyes alight with nostalgia. “It feels like yesterday that we were running into each other at Adam’s wedding.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, glancing over at her with a warm smile. “It’s hard to believe how much has changed since then.”

They arrived at the hotel, a charming retreat nestled among the vines. As they checked in, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as they were handed the key to Room 212, the very room where their story had taken a new turn five years ago.

“Room 212,” Y/N read aloud, a grin spreading across her face. “You didn’t…”

“I did,” Spencer confirmed, his eyes twinkling with mischief and love. “I thought it would be fitting.”

Once inside the room, Y/N wandered around, taking in the familiar surroundings that were now filled with memories of their first encounter as adults. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of romance and anticipation, the promise of what was to come.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked out the window at the sprawling vineyards. “I thought we could relive some of our favorite moments,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“That sounds perfect,” Y/N replied, leaning into his embrace, feeling the warmth and security of his presence envelop her.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Spencer suggested they take a walk in the garden, just as they had done five years ago. The garden was as beautiful as ever, the flowers in full bloom, their colors vibrant and alive.

They strolled hand in hand, the world around them quiet and serene. It was as if time had stood still, and the garden was theirs alone. Y/N marveled at the beauty of the moment, unaware of the surprise Spencer had planned.

As they reached a secluded spot where the stars began to twinkle overhead, Spencer stopped, turning to face her. His heart was pounding, but his resolve was steady.

“Hey, babe?” Spencer said, his voice carrying a soft hint of excitement and nervousness.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Y/N turned around, a curious smile on her face, the sunset casting a warm glow on her features.

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment as he dropped to one knee. The world seemed to slow down, the colors of the sky blending into a beautiful canvas that mirrored the emotions swirling inside him.

Opening the box, he revealed a stunning ring that caught the light of the setting sun, sparkling like the stars beginning to emerge above them. “Will you marry me, Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of hope and love.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and a burst of laughter escaped her lips. “You jerk!” she laughed, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. “Yes, Spencer, of course!”

Spencer slipped the ring onto her finger, rising to his feet to pull her into a tight embrace. Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing the promise of their future together.

The garden seemed to shimmer with magic as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. It was a moment that felt both timeless and fleeting, a beautiful beginning to the next chapter of their lives.

As they made their way back to the hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her mind a whirl of excitement and dreams for the future. The air was crisp with the coolness of the evening, and the soft glow of the hotel lights guided their path.

“I can’t believe you planned all this,” she said, glancing at Spencer with adoration. Her heart felt light, as if it were dancing with every step they took.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words. “Had to let you redeem yourself for letting all of this go last time,” he replied, gesturing to his body with a playful wink.

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and joyful. “Does the ring come with a gift receipt?” she teased, raising an eyebrow in mock consideration.

Spencer feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Wow, you wound me, darling,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Their banter continued as they entered the hotel, the familiar surroundings now holding a new significance. The same room where they had reconnected years ago was now a witness to their engagement, a witness to the journey they had taken together.

Back in Room 212, they reminisced about their first meeting, their conversation laced with humor and fond memories. It was a perfect end to a perfect day, one that marked the beginning of a new and exciting chapter in their lives.

As they lay together, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence, Spencer felt a deep sense of peace and fulfillment. He knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by the love that had brought them back to this place and would carry them forward into the future.

@spencerreidsreads & @spencerreidsglasses this is for you two ,, lets be friends please <333

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beom-pyu · 1 year

Text

i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags: best friends to lovers au , beomgyu is annoying(ly cute) , fake dating? nah... fake married? bingo! , reader is so fed up with beomgyu how is he still alive , fluff , black cat x golden retriever dynamic ??? , hinted bisexual!beomgyu happy pride month , hinted pining , nsfw , some cliche moments bc who doesn't love a good cliche

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and is referred to as a wife and "mrs" , cursing , playfully (?) threatening each other's lives , soft dom!beomgyu , sub!reader , pool sex , unprotected sex , marking , praise , creampie , cum eating , morning sex <3 , cunninglus (fem receiving) , overstimulation , dry humping , big dick gyu community please gather

a/n: another summer fic for you lovelies!! <3 i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it! (not edited yet!)

song recs: island - youha, spotless mind - jhene aiko, nature feels - frank ocean

wc: 10.7k+

[I THINK WE JUST GOT SCAMMED.]

“wait, wait, wait. you did what?”

you slowly lower your lukewarm cup onto the cafe table before taking out your airpods—no music is playing, but you want to be 100% sure you heard him right. your best friend shoots you a lopsided grin from across the table, stirring his drink with the chewed straw in between his fingers.

“i entered us into an exclusive giveaway for married couples to win a trip to greece for a week?”

one by one, you can feel your brain cells begin to die off at his words, your eye twitching while beomgyu smiles innocently at you.

“beomgyu, i’m going to ask you a simple question and i want a simple answer.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale for a second before meeting his eyes with the most exasperated gaze you've ever worn in your life. “why?”

the brown-haired boy is all too quick with a reply.

“why not?” beomgyu shrugs, his tiny grin morphing into something menacing on his lips—as if this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to him in all of his 22 years of life.

you have the sudden passing thought to throw your coffee at his face, but that’s a precious $6 you’d never get back, so you refrain from doing so. instead, you take a slow, deep breath and momentarily close your eyes. “god, if you’re out there, please, please give me patience.”

“i’m pretty sure the phrase is ‘god give me strength’,” beomgyu retorts from his seat across from you, sipping annoyingly on his nearly empty caramel frappe.

you blink at him once, twice. “if god gave me strength, you’d be in a casket right now.”

beomgyu simply cackles at your response, feigning a scared face with his hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint before he continues to laugh at his own mockery. you kick him under the table, successfully wiping that wide smile off of his dumb face.

“what was that for?” beomgyu whines with a pout, reaching down to rub his shin. a few heads turn to see what the ruckus is about and you shoot them a polite, apologetic smile and bow before turning back to mr. drama queen. the kick wasn’t even that hard.

“did you even think about what would happen if we actually won? we don’t have the time nor the money for a resort in greece.”

“oh, calm down, y/n. you know no one ever actually wins those things, right? they’re all scams.” beomgyu waves you off with his hand before bringing the green straw back up to his lips, your ears bleeding at the sound of his obnoxious slurping. you can’t stand his face.

“and how are you so sure of that?”

“because i entered that nickelodeon giveaway thing when i was 11 and never heard back from them.”

you blink at him again, thrice this time—just in case you’ve been transported into a different dimension and a stupidity demon has possessed your best friend’s body. nonetheless, beomgyu is still grinning idiotically as he chews on his straw, tilting his head at you like a maltese.

“please be so serious right now.”

“i am! plus, even if we do win—which we won’t—and it’s not a scam… shit, that’s a free trip to greece!”

the joy on his face boils your blood to no end. he’s truly dense; you can’t believe you’re insane enough to call him your other half. everything on earth must be balanced out, you suppose—the yin to your yang.

“have you considered the fact that we aren’t married?” you cock your head at him, hands folded on top of the table, speaking slowly as if you’re talking to a child… hold on, wait—you literally are.

“shoot—could’ve fooled me!” beomgyu lets out a puff of laughter. “we might as well be.”

you blink at him again.

“please don’t ever say that again. i think i just threw up in my mouth.”

beomgyu rolls his eyes before snatching his phone out of his pocket with the speed of light to show you the flier he had screenshotted. he shoves the phone in your face, tapping incessantly at the bottom text of the photo.

“look. it says all expenses paid.”

you stare at him with a silent ‘so what?’ and beomgyu sighs dramatically as he lowers his phone. he has the nerve to be exasperated with you? you’ll never understand where men get the pure audacity.

“so you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t pretend to be my wife for a few days so we can get a free trip to greece?”

you look him straight in the eye. “beomgyu, i’d rather be burned on a stake.”

“yea, 'cause you’re a fucking witch,” he mumbles under his breath, trying to hold in his laughter. you don’t know how much more patience you have with him, so you simply exhale, checking the clock on your phone.

“i don’t have time for this—i gotta get to my lecture,” you huff out, standing as you grab your bag that sits by your feet. beomgyu pitifully whines, looking up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

“would you seriously not do it?”

it’s now your turn to laugh, picking up your coffee to take a big sip. you’re gonna need the caffeine.

“those things are scams, gyu—you said it yourself! see you later.”

☆

nights are oh, so serene, you think, as your head hits your fluffy pillow later that night. you’re freshly showered and tucked under your covers, snug as a bug in a rug as you doze off to the lovely scent of your hibiscus air freshener and the quiet waves of your sleep sounds machine. there’s no need to count sheep—you’re completely drained from all of the walking you had to do today. all of your classes just so happen to be on opposite sides of the campus, and you’re sure your step counter is on the verge of exploding by now.

your mattress feels even comfier today, a slight breeze coming through your cracked window, balancing out the heat from your thick duvet. it takes no time at all for you to be tugged under by the lust of sleep, drifting off to a perfect dreamland full of bright colors and open fields and your blaring ringtone.

wait.

your ringtone?

you don’t even bother to open your eyes, patting around your bed for your phone before you feel the cool screen against your fingertips. it takes a few failed swipes to actually answer, mumbling out a half-asleep “hello?” as you lazily press the device to your ear.

“hi, my wonderful bff. my world, my girl, my bro, my home-shizzle! hypothetically, on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i told you that the greece trip thing wasn’t a scam? and that we won? and that we leave in 2 days? hypothetically.”

the silence is incredibly loud.

…

“eleven.”

[NEWLYWEDS.]

three months ago, if you were to tell yourself that you would be adorning a fake amazon wedding ring with your best friend’s arm wrapped around your waist as you stand inside some modern insurance firm being interviewed as a newlywed couple—well, you probably would’ve admitted yourself into the nearest asylum.

you don’t know what choices from your past led you to this moment, forcing a smile as a middle-aged woman with the cleanest-cut bob you’ve ever seen enthusiastically shakes your hand before moving on to beomgyu’s. he seems completely unfazed and the thought alone irks your soul to no end.

truthfully, this is all your fault. if you would’ve just told beomgyu that you are not going to pretend to be his wife for a week, you would’ve never ended up in this situation in the first place. but can anyone blame you when he offered to pay for your coffee every single day for the next 6 months, and wash your car, and take out your trash for as long as you ask him to?

right! any sane person would’ve said yes, too!

so here you are as mrs. choi (gag), laughing along as the lady cracks a few jokes, complimenting beomgyu’s silky hair and your bright smile before sighing dreamily.

“my goodness, aren’t you two just the cutest newlyweds i’ve ever seen! how many months has it been?”

beomgyu looks down at you with a soft smile; anyone who is meeting him for the first time would’ve taken the gaze as something filled with pure adoration and undiluted love… but you know him. you see the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, the annoying quirk of his playful grin, and the pure amusement that washes over his features at your subtle glare.

he’s having way too much fun with this.

you pinch his side hard, a small bout of victory washing over you as he flinches.

deserved.

“we’re coming up on three months now?” beomgyu speaks through slightly gritted teeth before looking back up at the short woman, sending a charming smile her way. she squeals, bouncing on her heels and you bite back a grimace at the sheer volume.

“we decided to travel a bit before settling down and buying a home here in seoul,” you speak robotically, following the exact script you both came up with in your notes app on facetime last night. beomgyu hums in affirmation, tapping your side in a silent “good job”.

“awe! how sweet is that? what a wonderful idea to travel together while you're still young and nimble, unlike this old lady right here.” the lady honks out a laugh as she points to herself with her thumbs. you glance over at beomgyu who seems to be having the time of his life and—the regret of saying yes quickly settles deep in your bones. “you pair are such a lovely and beautiful couple!”

her high-pitched and overly enthusiastic voice pierces your ears and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“well, what can i say? it was love at first sight. i knew i had to make her mine and see the world with her as soon as possible,” beomgyu smoothly recites, gazing back down at you with the same look as before. you feel the bile rise in your throat. the words are so foreign to your ears, it’s almost jarring. the lady doesn’t even notice your discomfort and continues on and on about how cute you both are, how you remind her of her niece, and how beomgyu should totally be a model.

you force the fakest smile ever as beomgyu pinches your side, a cue for you to speak up. resisting the urge to punch him for pinching you (even though you had done it first), you simply nod along with an artificial laugh, your hand coming up to rest on his chest in faux infatuation.

ew.

“marrying beomgyu was the best decision i’ve ever made. i’ve never been happier.”

you swear you feel your eye twitch as the lady coos—she claps her hands excitedly, her short bob bouncing with the movement.

“how heartwarming! i’m sure this trip will bring you even closer, shedding a new light on the glitter of your love for decades to come!”

you and beomgyu are silent for a beat—because what the fuck is she even saying?—before awkwardly laughing, nodding along in hopes that she’ll wrap this up quickly. the lady’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as a stiffness fills the air, clapping her hands again as he ushers you two towards the lyft.

“better get a move on so you don’t miss your flight! i hope you have a wonderful time, lovebirds! and congratulations once again!”

the car is absolutely silent as you both settle in after all of your luggage is loaded up. beomgyu has this annoying, close-lipped smile on his face, his lips pursed like a duck—he’s so obviously trying to hold in his laughter as you grumble under your breath, snatching that stupid plastic ring off of your finger.

you glance at him before rolling your eyes. “go ahead.”

in the blink of an eye, his boisterous laughter fills the car, high and squeaky, and you silently empathize with the lyft driver who subtly turns the radio up to combat the intrusive noise. beomgyu’s doubled over, patting his leg as he gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut; and as much as you hate to admit it, your own lips quirk up into a small smile at the sound. curse your best friend and his contagious laughter.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” beomgyu heaves out before another round of giggles leaves his lips. he reaches up to push his hair out of his face before wiping at his eyes dramatically.

“i didn’t think i had it in me,” you agree, giving in to the grin that slowly spreads across your face. you make the horrible decision of meeting beomgyu’s eyes, and it takes less than a millisecond for you both to aggressively burst out laughing, bodies falling against each other's as your limbs grow weak.

“no, that was the funniest shit ever, i swear. we sold it.”

“for a second, i actually thought you were really in love with me.” your laughter slowly dies down as beomgyu lifts himself off of you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath. you’re sure you don’t look any better—you definitely have abs after all of that.

“i just had to pretend that you were i.u,” beomgyu admits with an overexaggerated dreamy look off into the distance. you’re quick to fall into another fit of laughter but for a different reason this time.

“i.u doesn’t date freaks.”

beomgyu’s lips dramatically pout as he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid, scoffing at your comment. “why do you always have to crush my dreams?”

“i don’t always crush your dreams. only when they’re stupid.”

“so… always?”

“no—yes.”

beomgyu’s quiet for a moment, turning his head to look out the window. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, but the expression quickly smooths out as he turns towards you, uncrossing his arms to play with the fake ring on his finger.

“i’m not taking the couch.”

“what?”

“it’s a couple’s suite. i’m taking the bed since i’m the one who entered us in the first place.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes again—your mother had told you that one day your eyeballs would get stuck in the back of your head, and right now, that idea didn’t seem so bad. beomgyu’s teasing smile is anger-inducing, and you think you might rip it off if you have to look at it any longer.

“what happened to chivalry? i’m your wife now, so as the man, you have to give me the bed.”

“fuck chivalry! you’re mean to me. i owe you nothing,” beomgyu huffs, squinting his eyes at you.

“i’m not mean to you,” you immediately defend, hitting his arm for even making such heinous accusations. beomgyu gasps, reaching up to hold his arm where you made impact.

“see? mean!” once again, the dramatics are almost admirable—there’s no way that hurt. he’s been hitting the gym with his roommate taehyun lately, and you’ve seen the way he’s bulked up from the scrawny shrimp boy he used to be in high school. if anything, the hit hurt you!

“let’s play rock paper scissors, then. two out of three gets the bed.”

beomgyu huffs, but obediently holds up his fist. “fine.”

three games pass by in a blur.

“you cheated!” he whines, pointing his finger at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“how did i cheat? just admit you suck ass, mr. couch.” your triumphant smile results in another whine from the loser next to you, putting his fist back up for a rematch. “no, i already won!”

“you’re lucky i love you.” beomgyu’s quick to give up, a tiny smile appearing on his face at the way you pretend to gag at his words.

those butterflies in your stomach are only because you skipped breakfast that morning—totally not because of the soft gaze he sends your way, mindlessly playing with the plastic ring on his finger as you two fall into a comfortable silence. totally.

☆

this sucks.

today is the first time you’ve ever ridden in first class, and you can’t even enjoy it because of the exhaustion running rampant through your veins. there’s a reason why you picked all afternoon and late night lectures; why you avoid any invitations to go out for breakfast with your friends; and why you have blackout curtains on all of your windows. you are not a morning person, whatsoever, and with that 8 a.m interview and your flight at 10 on the dot, you’re absolutely beat.

for starters, pretending to actually be in love with your best friend in front of a lady who cannot speak at a normal, human volume is more taxing than swimming from portugal to australia with no breaks. you swear. second, beomgyu has apparently never ridden an airplane before and therefore has no idea what airport etiquette is.

(“you have to put all of your electronics in the bins, okay?”

“when i go through the x-ray thing, will they see my underwear? oh my god, no, will they see my dick?”

“no, they won’t see your dick, beomgyu.”

“but how do you know they won’t see my dick? sick fucks.”

“they’re literally doing their job, beomgyu.”

“they can do their job without looking at my dick!”

“they aren’t going to see your dick!”

the lady in front of you covers her kid's ears as she shoots you two the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen. you both bow in apology before you flick beomgyu on the back of his neck.)

you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch some marvel movie on the little screen in front of you, fighting to at least stay awake long enough to order dinner. it’s futile, though, because you’re already blacking out every few minutes, head lulling side to side like a bobblehead.

you finally give up the battle, reminding yourself that there will be endless food at the resort, so you settle yourself into your plush seat, resting your cheek against your neck pillow. from this angle, you have a perfect view of beomgyu who’s in the secluded seat next to you, and—oh.

he looks… he looks softer than usual, only illuminated by the natural light emerging through the circular windows. his hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his long fringe hanging over his eyes in such a way that he has to keep shaking it out of his vision. he has his earbuds in, watching the sky through the tiny window next to him with his bottom lip in between his teeth—a habit he’s had since he was young. you know he’s thinking, lost in his mind abyss by the way his fingers fidget with the end of his shirt, his leg shaking incessantly.

“hey, gyu,” you call out quietly so as to not disturb anyone else around you. his music must’ve been turned down low, seeing as his eyes find yours at the call of his name, taking an earbud out to hear you better. “you okay?”

if there’s one thing you know about your best friend, it’s when he’s nervous. it shows with the way his leg doesn’t stop moving, even as he nods out a yes in reply to your question, seeing his jaw move as he grinds his teeth together.

“the plane keeps shaking,” he whispers, eyes wide and worried as a little bit of turbulence rocks the cabin right after he finishes speaking. even in your tired state, you can’t help but laugh softly at his animated expression, shaking your head.

“are you scared?” the teasing tone in your voice is apparent—beomgyu rapidly shakes his head in disagreement, but you see right through him as his hand grips the armrest, eyebrows knitted together. everything in your nature tells you to tease him, rile him up a bit, poke fun at him—but he genuinely looks concerned, and you’re too tired to come up with anything witty to say. instead…

“it’s just turbulence. you’re okay, gyu.”

you watch the way beomgyu relaxes ever so slightly, nodding his head as his grip loosens. you send him a little smile, not bothering to wait for him to smile back before turning your head the other way, finally letting sleep pull you under.

[FREE MARGARITAS.]

you don’t get a single moment to look around the resort because as soon as you both lug all of your things into your suite, you’re told a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the beach just down the hill has been reserved for you two as a welcome gift by the company. you’re not complaining of course, but you still would’ve liked to at least get acquainted with the area before indulging in everything.

it takes you an hour and a half to get ready; partially because beomgyu’s showers take forever. he’s in there singing along to some random 70s hits playlist, having the time of his life, while you take the time to look around the suite.

it’s huge, to say the least. a single pod building that sits on a hill full of others alike with pristine white walls and elegant decoration—it’s almost 3 times bigger than your own apartment and you can only imagine how much all of this would’ve cost. wide, open windows line the walls with marbled tile underneath your feet, the furniture ranging from white to beige to a palette of blues, mimicking the colors of the beach in the distance.

outside is a wide patio with a glistening pool and comfy lounge area, complete with a loveseat and a swing. it has the perfect view of the coast, the sun already lowering behind the horizon. it’s absolutely breathtaking, and you make sure to take plenty of pictures, even posting a few on your instagram story (without tagging beomgyu, because you’re pissed at how long he’s taking in the bathroom.)

by the time he comes out, his hair is blow-dried and pushed out of his face with a headband. he looks like casper the friendly ghost with the white facemask he adorns and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

you force yourself to dismiss the way he only has a towel wrapped around his waist, chest completely bare as he strides over to his suitcase—he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence as he pulls out the most formal thing he can find, dropping it onto the bed.

“you gonna shower or what?” he asks over his annoyingly broad shoulder, hands reaching down to undo the towel around his waist. a yelp leaves your lips at the sudden movement, covering your eyes as you rush towards the bathroom.

“you’re disgusting!” you yell before slamming the door shut, locking it for good measure. his cackles ring throughout the suite and you flick him off from behind the wall—he can’t see it, but you want to at least get it out of your system.

halfway through your shower, you realize you forgot to bring your clothes into the bathroom to change. you blame this all on beomgyu—half because somehow every inconvenience in your life is all his fault and half because you just want a reason to ignore the way you keep thinking about how toned he’s gotten recently. you mentally make it your mission to shut down every single gym in his vicinity.

you wrap your towel tight around your body before cracking the door open, the cool air from the a/c attacking your skin like icicles. poking your head out, you scan the room for any sign of your counterpart, but the room seems to be completely empty. you wait a few seconds, just in case he decides to make any unannounced appearances before deeming the room safe enough to enter. the coast is clear.

you rush over to your suite case, unzipping it to find an appropriate dress, deciding on a white one to match the white button-up beomgyu had pulled out. you grab your makeup bag, as well as your perfume and it isn’t until you stand back up to find refuge in the bathroom that you notice the figure in the doorway. you jump in surprise, a small scream escaping your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself defensively.

“you fucking stalker,” you huff as he doubles over in laughter.

“oh my god, you should’ve seen your face,” he gasps, holding his hand to his stomach as his entire body vibrates with cackles. despite the venomous glare you send his way, your eyes can’t help but catch onto the fact that beomgyu cleans up nicely.

you’ve gotten so used to beomgyu’s endless collection of sweatpants and hoodies that the thought of him looking like an a-list celebrity never once crossed your mind. the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest, appropriately decorated with a few layered necklaces. it seems like he decided to trade out his usual dangly earrings and ear piercings for simple studs that shine when the chandelier above you hits them.

those black dress pants hug his legs in a way that makes you swallow, feeling your body grow warm at the way he tucks his hands into his pockets. he cocks his head at you curiously, a jesting smile on his lips—he looks infuriatingly good, to the point where you have to physically rip your eyes away from him.

“like what you see?” he badgers while he strolls into the room, as if he can see right through your little facade. you scoff, holding your stuff tight to your chest as you flee towards the bathroom again.

“what happened to privacy?” you make sure to completely ignore his previous question—he can tell all too easily when you’re lying, and you really don’t feel like being teased relentlessly tonight.

“what’s the issue? you’re my wife now, aren’t you?” his voice is provoking, playful as you burn through him with another intense glare.

“beomgyu, i promise you, i will drown you in that pool if you say another word.” and then you happily slam the door shut in his face.

“no, you won’t! you love me too much,” he singsongs from behind the door. all you can do is roll your eyes because—yes. yes, you do.

☆

you don’t think you’ve ever seen beomgyu act so… gentlemanly ever since he tried to get his 6th grade crush to like him back—but this time, without the weird phrases he stole from western movies and the electric blue braces that lined his teeth.

he’s committed to this husband act; pulling your chair out for you and pushing you in after you take a seat, kissing the back of your hand (you kicked him under the table at that), and even telling you that you look, and you quote, “absolutely stunning, baby.”

you hope your discontentment isn’t showing too obviously through your forced smiles and giggles, that plastic wedding band around your ring finger uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

you can’t deny the fact that the dinner is really nice, though. never in your life would you have thought you’d be drinking expensive wines and eating 5-star cuisine on a beach with your childhood best friend—you’re pretty sure 14-year-old y/n would’ve complained about how it should’ve been choi soobin from 4th period instead of beomgyu, but you’ll take what you can get.

in all honesty, it simply feels like a normal dinner out with your best friend. you both still laugh and joke as usual, reminiscing on the time when beomgyu forgot to take out his retainer before his band performed at the school festival in 10th grade, resulting in a slurred rendition of sk8er boi by avril lavigne and a crowd full of giggling onlookers. (if you had to threaten a few people to leave beomgyu alone about it afterward, then so be it.)

the thing is, it’s not hard to let go around beomgyu. you’ve known each other since you were in diapers; defending beomgyu from bullies in elementary, attending all of his self-made band’s concerts, and hanging out on your rooftop eating popsicles and gummy worms. you could complain all you’d like about his teasing, his constant, exuberated nature, and his inane questions, but there’s no one else that you’d put your life on the line for, other than the puppy-like man in front of you.

his eyes sparkle with the reflection of the candlelight as he rambles on about how he genuinely thought planes did a loopty-loop before taking off and your heart aches with a sort of warmth you’ve been trying to dismiss for so long.

the dinner ends all too quickly, and by the time you down your last glass, you realize you’re slightly tipsy. you’ve always been a lightweight, but you really didn’t think you drank that much—you must’ve been too distracted by beomgyu’s crazy stories to acknowledge the waiter constantly filling your glass after every few sips. at least it was free.

you slightly wobble on your heels as you take a stand in the sand, a little noise of surprise leaving your lips as a warm hand meets your hip, swiftly steadying you. you look down and automatically recognize the amazon ring, your head turning to meet beomgyu’s gentle eyes.

“don’t tell me i have to carry you all the way back.” and even though it’s a joke, there’s a layer of genuineness in his tone as you stumble again.

“‘m not that drunk,” you reply with the slightest of slurs, quietly giggling at the simple image of beomgyu carrying you bridal style to the bed. now that would truly sell the act, for sure. beomgyu shakes his head with a small smile, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist as he guides you back towards the suite, his touch firm and sturdy.

you’re almost across the beach when you stumble again, but this time, your heel actually gives out as you trip, a tiny yelp leaving your lips right before you hit the ground. you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact—but it never comes.

“yep. i’m carrying you.”

you crack an eye open to see beomgyu with an amused smile on his face, both of his hands holding onto your hips. turns out you weren’t even close to hitting the ground at all… okay, maybe you are drunk.

“piggy back ride?” you ask with a little giggle. you’re reminded of that time beomgyu had to give you a piggyback ride all the way back home from the park after you sprained your ankle trying to do a backflip off of the swing in elementary school. what a time.

beomgyu rolls his eyes fondly, but gives you a little nod, letting go of your waist to kneel down by your feet. “give me your foot.”

you give him a quizzical look, cocking your head at him in pure confusion before he pats his thigh, motioning towards your leg. still a bit out of it, you hold onto his shoulder as you lift your foot, feeling a weird sensation rush up your spine at the way he gently holds onto your calf to slip your heel off of your foot. he does the same to the other without a word, completely unfazed by the way your mouth remains slightly ajar in shock. his fingers are gentle and soothing against your skin, despite being mildly calloused from his guitar back home.

it’s enough to throw you off, swallowing as his eyes meet yours again. his eyes are incredibly soft as he smiles up at you—he motions towards his back with a quiet “hop on”.

you obey, only faltering slightly as your arms sling around his shoulders. with the new proximity, you can smell his cologne, something sweet and woodsy. his hands grab onto your thighs—one decorated with high heels hanging off two of his fingers—before hiking you up a bit. he begins walking, saying something about how he thinks there’s 10 tons of sand in his shoes by now—and if he notices you’re too distracted by his hands on your legs to process what he’s saying, he doesn’t mention it.

☆

the view is absolutely breathtaking through the glass tall windows of your suite, the rays bouncing off of the pool as you watch beomgyu wade in the water, his eyes shut. it’s weird seeing him like this—fully relaxed, calm, and still.

it seems like ever since you met beomgyu, all chubby-cheeked and busy-bodied, he’s always been on the move. whether it be to sprint down the road to meet you at the corner so you can walk to school together, or high in the air as he jumps on your trampoline… and even when his body is physically still, his mouth still runs a mile a minute, talking about anything and everything in the entire universe, letting his thoughts run wild around you.

as much as you truly do adore his silly side, him being the main reason why you were able to break out of your shell in the first place, you can’t help but be slightly fascinated with this alternate side of him.

it’s morning now; the yellowish-white hue of the blinding sun bounces off of his skin as he soaks up the moment, his brown hair getting so long it falls down the back of his neck in soft layers. you feel like a creep, watching him like this, but something about the entire atmosphere makes your eyes unable to look away as you slowly sip on the complimentary margaritas.

your best friend has always been attractive—that’s one thing you cannot deny. he’s had his fair share of flings, and partners (and even a throuple once) throughout the years while you’ve only endured a few situationships here and there. he’s been called handsome his entire childhood and well into his adult years, taking the compliment in stride. he never let it get to his head or fuel his ego, though; for some reason, that fact makes him even more appealing.

he’s always just been your best friend, and you both are incredibly okay with that label—you know each other best, and that’s all that really matters. never mind the way his eyelashes flutter like monarch butterflies, or the way his cheeks flush when it’s too cold outside, or the way his leg bounces when he’s excited or nervous, alike. you try to ignore the way his laughter always manages to make the sun come out, and the way he always orders for you at restaurants because he knows you aren’t a fan of talking to strangers, and the way he seems always to know what you need, right when you need it.

he’s truly the yin to your yang. but there’s something else bubbling under the surface that you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to acknowledge yet.

a loud call of your name grabs your attention, your vision focusing on a grinning beomgyu waving you down from the edge of the pool. you don’t even have it in you to huff at the prospect of moving from your comfortable lounge chair, standing up to make your way to the large patio. sliding the door open, you poke your head out, immediately feeling the muggy air of midday wrap around you like a heated blanket.

“get in with me! the water is super warm,” he calls, motioning you towards him with his arm, the action flicking water everywhere. you frown a bit, looking at the pool behind him before meeting his eager eyes again.

“you know i can’t swim, idiot.”

beomgyu’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as he shrugs, holding his hand out.

“then i’ll do the swimming for you.”

the offer is so light-hearted and casual—it shouldn’t make your heart lunge in your chest, your gut twisting with anticipation at the simple implications of his words.

you’re already in your bathing suit from the mirror selfies you took for simply the aesthetic—a simple blue bikini tied tightly around your frame. you really don’t want to waste your time here; when else will you get the chance to stay in greece for free with your best friend?

so you let your feet carry you to the stairs of the pool, your fingers wrapping around the metal railing as you slowly step in, foot by foot. by the time you’ve made it waist deep, you begin to feel the fear creep into your bones.

“i won’t let you drown, y/n,” beomgyu laughs as you suspiciously eye the deep end of the pool, unable to even see the bottom of it. your hand tightly grips the rail as beomgyu wades his way toward you, holding his hand out for you to take. “i promise. just hold on to me.”

you nibble on your lip as your eyes flicker down to his hand, feeling the water move gently around you. drowning has always been one of your biggest fears, and because of that, you’ve always stayed far away from any body of water capable of swallowing you up whole.

but beomgyu’s eyes are warmer than the water, the most delicate of smiles resting on his soft features. there’s no room to be scared—not with the way his hand is so grounding as you take hold of it, squealing a bit as he tugs you closer.

“do you trust me?” and when he speaks, his voice is just barely above a whisper, his face so close to yours that you can individually count his eyelashes. his margarita-tinted breath fans over your lips and you find yourself unable to cringe away, nodding cautiously in response.

your hands tightly grasp his shoulders as he wraps a strong arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he uses his other arm to swim deeper into the pool. his doesn’t let up, even slightly, his grip sturdy around your figure as he utilizes one arm to keep you both afloat.

“here, wrap your legs around me,” he speaks, tapping your thigh under the water. you’re sure your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, your mouth bobbing open and shut like a fish out of water.

“wha… huh?” you question oh, so eloquently, the rumble of beomgyu’s laughter transferring against your skin. his nose crinkles up in the way it always does when he finds something to be a bit too entertaining, his eyes forming those pretty crescent moons as his eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

“it’ll make this easier. i’m not trying to carry a dead weight,” beomgyu speaks as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. you’re still dumbfounded, blinking at him blankly—so he decides to take matters into his own hands, reaching down to situate you against him by himself. “there, that’s better.”

a persistent heat surges through your stomach as your brain slowly registers the position. beomgyu’s arm tightens around your waist as you adjust your hips in a way that makes your clothed core brush against his bulge. you almost see the way his eyes darken, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his bottom lip. it’s quiet, still as the distant sound of the beach’s waves and the gentle trickle of water fills in the silence.

your arms slowly come up to wrap around his neck—you don’t know what possesses you; some weird entity that makes beomgyu’s lips look all too kissable, and his eyes sickeningly alluring. his adam’s apple bobs as his eyes flicker across your face. you don’t register the way he slowly wades you both toward the wall of the pool, effectively caging you in as your back gently presses against the tile.

you have the chance to run, to push him off of you, and go back inside—to pretend your core doesn’t pulse with want as he presses his entire body against you. his chest is warm and his eyes are blown out, and you can say no.

but you don’t want to.

his eyes search yours for something before they trail down to your lips, his hips meeting yours in a way that renders you slightly dizzy with the proximity.

“tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop, right now,” he whispers, his fingers leaving a ticklish feeling against your exposed skin under the water. you swallow.

“i want this, please.” and his lips are on yours before you can take another breath.

it’s nothing gentle; as if he’s been starved for your taste for all of eternity. the kiss is bruising as he nibbles on your bottom lip, his tongue meeting yours as you gasp into his mouth. he takes control easily, his hips moving against yours as the water moves around you, the sound mixing in with your quiet moans and beomgyu’s sparse grunts.

he swallows all of your sounds, holding you down against him as he bucks up into your core, his dick hard and heavy in between your legs. you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist as you match his movement to the best of your ability. you’re nearly unable to think straight as he kisses the oxygen out of you, your mind growing hazy as pleasure shoots up your spine when he rubs against your clit just right.

beomgyu breaks the kiss to dive into your neck, sucking and biting small marks onto your unblemished skin before kissing over the soon-to-be marks. he can’t keep his mouth off of you as he trails his lips under your jaw, over your clavicle, nipping at your cleavage. your own voice sounds foreign in your ears as every lick and bite shoots straight to your core, feeling that knot in your gut tightens with every thrust.

“think you can cum just like this, hm? just from humping my cock?” beomgyu pants against your skin as his lips brush over your cheek, his breath fanning your ears. the head of beomgyu’s clothed dick catches onto your slit for the slightest of seconds, and you have to clench all of the muscles in your body to not cum on the spot.

“ye—yes, please don’t stop,” you whine, tilting your head back to invite his lips back to your neck. you’re sure you’re leaving marks on beomgyu’s shoulder blades from how hard your nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, it makes his hips work faster against yours, pressing you full-on against the pool walls.

“so good for me, fuck.”

beomgyu kisses up your neck, a low groan leaving his lips at the way you’re bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat, clawing at his skin as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“gyu, ‘m—can i cum? please, please, please.” you can’t hold on anymore—not with the way beomgyu laughs against your skin, his free hand reaching up to grab your chin, forcing your lips against his again. he licks into your mouth with fervor, your teeth clashing together. your spit-slicked lips slide against each other, wet and messy, and he finally decides to take pity on you.

“go ahead, cum for me, baby.”

your brain goes blank as you finally come undone, blindly sinking into beomgyu’s lips and his faltering thrusts. your entire body tenses up as you moan against his lips, feeling like a ragdoll in the way he leaves soft kisses against your lax mouth. a low, rumbling groan emits from his chest as his hips still, twitching against yours subtly. he exhales once he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

it takes a second for you both to catch your breaths and when you finally blink your eyes open, beomgyu’s puppy-like eyes are already on yours.

“you okay?” his voice oozes with a type of concern; care that feels all too intimate. his pupils are blown wide, alluring and deep as they scan your face. you nod with a small sigh, leaning forward to drop your head onto his shoulder. you feel his torso shake with a chuckle at the action, feeling an unnamed emotion run through your chest.

you don’t pay any mind to it, though. not while you're ruminating in a cum-contaminated body of water.

“we should probably call someone to clean the pool.” and the laughter that bubbles out of beomgyu’s mouth is enough to distract you, just for a moment.

[I DO.]

it’s a weird, strange domestic feeling waking up to a fluffy head of brown hair resting on your shoulder, caged in by gentle arms around your waist. beomgyu’s always been a cuddler, and a week ago, you would’ve cringed at the simple thought of indulging him.

but now, a warm feeling blooms in your chest like a hydrangea as your fingers slip into his mussed hair to play with the strands. you’ve been cowed by your emotions, unable to fight off the fond smile that climbs onto your lips at the sight of the teddy bear-esque man clinging to you in his sleep.

you don’t know what to do with all of these butterflies swarming in your chest, flapping against each other, kicking up a sandstorm of admiration that runs wild through your veins. he’s your best friend—and at this point in time, you know he’s more than that.

it’s crazy to think that romantic feelings can accumulate overnight, and you’re starting to suspect that maybe these feelings have existed all along. he’s the only one capable of rendering you speechless, whether it be from the crazy things he says or the way his eyes sparkle with a sense of youthfulness that tethers you two together. he’s the only one who can make you feel so carefree and in the moment—you don’t worry about the future or what’s to come with beomgyu. you simply enjoy the now, soaking up his blinding smiles and outlandish stories.

he’s waking up, you realize, as he mumbles under his breath, nuzzling closer to you. his lips brush your neck, his hair tickling your cheek in a way that makes your nose scrunch up with a small giggle. you feel drunk despite the fact that all of the alcohol has long dispersed in your body overnight—you blame it all on the fact that the sun sits high in the sky, shining kindly through the wide, open windows. it lights beomgyu up in a way that squeezes your heart painfully, the white sheets strewn across his waist making him look so soft and gentle.

“good morning,” you mumble with a tiny smile as beomgyu begins littering faint kisses against the expanse of your neck, brushing over the previous marks he’d left there yesterday. he simply hums in response, his arms loosening from around your waist to trail up the side of your body—his touch is so delicate, you let yourself get lost in the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he softly nips at your skin.

he situates himself so that he’s hovering over you and you open your eyes again, feeling the sudden urge to shy away from his gaze. you’ve never seen such a look in his eyes—something so heavy and raw. as if he’s prying you apart and putting you back together again. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

“good morning, beautiful,” he finally replies and you can’t help but giggle again—you feel like a teenager, the way your stomach flutters at his morning voice, all deep and raspy and sultry. his brown eyes are half-lidded from sleep, his skin warm as his fingers brush your cheek.

the tension in the air isn’t incredibly prominent—it still lingers but with a less demanding presence. it’s natural and easy in the way it always is with beomgyu. existing with beomgyu is just so uncomplicated.

you feel yourself melt into the sheets as he presses closer, molding himself into you perfectly—as if he was destined to be right here all along. his nose brushes yours as he leans in, and when his lips touch yours, any thoughts clouding your mind immediately disperse, making room for the sun itself. your arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, feeling his heartbeat against yours. you feel safe, lax, content; all things good in the world.

his lips are unrushed as they move against yours, silently speaking a thousand words as he cups the side of your face, his hips subtly moving against yours. you sigh into his mouth, tilting your head to deepen the kiss—you don’t care about morning breath or the fact that you probably look a mess with your ridden-up shirt and tired eyes. and beomgyu doesn’t care either, licking into your mouth as if you’re a rare delicacy, grinding down against your thin panties.

he’s half-hard in his pants, desperately rubbing against you to chase whatever pleasure he can get. it’s endearing almost, the way he moans into your mouth as you reach down to slip your fingers past his waistband to trail a light touch over his dick. his voice is deeper than normal, stirring something inside of you that makes your legs clamp around his hips.

“i want you, gyu,” you breathe out once his lips finally leave yours, pumping him slowly. his lips catch in between his teeth as your fingers run over the head of his dick, feeling your fingers coat with sticky precum.

“hm? gotta be more specific than that, gorgeous,” beomgyu teases despite the way he’s slowly thrusting into your hand, smiling down at you in a way that usually would’ve pissed you off—but right now, it only makes your pussy drip with want.

“i want you inside of me. want you to fill me up,” you whine out as his fingers rub your clit over your panties, moving lower to press against your damp entrance. his resolve crumbles all too quickly as you peer up at him with your doe eyes, lips parted as you whine softly, moving your hips against his fingers.

“fuck, okay baby.”

you let him move away to strip himself of his sparse clothing as you pull your shirt over your head. the butterflies return quickly as you realize this is the first time you’re seeing each other completely unclothed and—oh god. he’s huge. your half-asleep state didn’t realize the sheer amount of dick between your fingers, but now that you’re seeing it in the morning light, you aren’t even sure if it’ll fit.

beomgyu makes his way back over to you, his fingers hooking onto the band of your panties to drag them down your legs. his eyes are almost predatory as he takes in your glistening folds, unable to stop himself from running his fingers over your cunt, collecting your juices.

“you’re dripping,” he awes, his eyes flickering up to yours with a small smile. a heat rushes up your neck, shyly covering your face with both of your hands. beomgyu’s small laugh resonates throughout the room, feeling his clean hand come up to gently move your arms away.

when you meet his eyes again, they’re filled with a sort of fondness that makes your head spin, makes your heart stutter—it’s horrible and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips as his fingers return to your cunt, slightly dipping into your hole, soaking them even more.

“i want you to look at me. can you do that?” beomgyu gently requests and you’re nodding before you can fully register his words. he flashes you a proud smile before he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. an airy, surprised moan leaves your body against your will at the sight, and his smile broadens. “you taste amazing, baby.”

his middle finger enters your entrance with no resistance, and you feel yourself clench down as he curls it upwards to gently explore your walls. it’s all too much and not enough all at once. he’s going incredibly slow, as if you two have all the time in the world, but you can’t wait. you need him now.

“please, just fuck me. ‘m ready,” you demand through a whine, pleading with your eyes, an action that effectively softens beomgyu's gaze. he doesn’t remove his finger, but instead adds another alongside it, his thumb coming to brush against your clit. you buck against his hand with a small moan as he moves up your body, trailing kisses from your hipbone, to your breasts, and finally your lips.

it’s a chaste peck, but it’s enough to leave you wanting more, chasing after his lips once he pulls back. you whine at the loss, already feeling your brain turn to mush with the way his fingers slowly drag against the walls of your cunt, his thumb just barely applying pressure to your swollen nub.

“are you sure?”

“yes, yes, ‘m sure. want your cock, gyu. just—” you’re nearly hysterical as your hips grind down on his fingers. you can already feel the frustrated tears brimming your eyelashes, reaching up to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his. “please, please…”

“shh. it’s okay, baby,” beomgyu coos, pressing a few soft kisses to your lips. you quietly gasp as he removes his fingers from your hole. he kisses your cheeks all too delicately, his forearm resting by your head to steady himself. “i’ll take care of you. just relax.”

you almost cry happy tears with the way you feel the head of his cock tease your hole, dipping in but not fully entering. his lips find yours again as he drags his dick in between your sopping folds, swallowing his low moan at the feeling. “my perfect girl. so pretty, so wet for me.”

when he pushes in, your arms tighten around his neck, your enter body locking up at the intrusion. you feel like a virgin again, his girth stretching you open almost uncomfortably. his thumb rubs your hips to soothe you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss to distract you from the feeling. he stops for a second, letting you get used to his dick as he peppers kisses across your face.

“fuck, it feels like you’re splitting me in half,” you blurt out and beomgyu can’t help but laugh softly, his forehead resting against yours. “i think i can feel you in my throat.”

“can you stop making me laugh so i can fuck you stupid, please?”

his words are lighthearted, but the thought of being fucked to the point where you can’t even speak has you shutting up in no time. you whine quietly as beomgyu continues pushing into you until he’s fully situated inside of your cunt—you’re fluttering around him like crazy, feeling the faint pain slowly dispersing into pleasure as he kisses your jaw.

“you can move now,” you mumble, and beomgyu wastes no time pulling out, almost all the way, just to snap his cock back into you with a force that rocks the bed slightly. you can’t cover up the choked-out gasp that leaves your lips, eventually turning into a stream of moans and whines as he quickly sets a brutal pace.

his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, your mind clouding over as pleasure fills your bloodstream, your pussy clenching around his thick cock. he places one last kiss on your lips before sitting up, both of his hands moving wrapping around your thighs. you’re so wet that his dick easily glides in and out of you, wet, squelching sounds filling the room as you drip around him.

“you’re so tight, god. letting me fuck you raw like the needy slut you are,” he chastizes, groaning as he pulls your body in to meet his hips. his strokes are so deep, you already feel yourself nearing your high.

“yes, yes, yes. need you,” you cry out, hands gripping the sheets. “so big, gyu. ‘s too much, i can’t—”

“you were the one crying for my cock, so you better take it.” his sudden demeanor change sends a tingly rush up your spine, leaving your brain a muddled mess. his bangs have fallen into his eyes, his cheekbones flushed with a slight pink from the physical exertion and the warmth of the sun beaming through the windows. his stomach contracts with every thrust into your wet heat, low moans and sharp gasps leaving his lips as his eyes fall shut, his head lolling back at the feeling.

your core throbs, gut tightening with every passing moment—at some point, he brings his fingers down to circle your clit, whimpers leaving your mouth at the overwhelming feeling of it all. you clench down around him, hand stretching out for something, anything; and it only takes a few seconds for beomgyu to notice. his fingers interlace with yours, giving your hand a grounding squeeze.

“gonna fill you up—gonna make a mess of this pretty pussy,” beomgyu pants out, a low moan leaving his lips as his hips slightly stutter.

“‘m gonna cum, gyu, ‘m cumming,” you babble out, your head rolling to the side as your eyes shut, the immense pleasure coursing through your body becoming all too much. somewhere through your muffled ears, you hear beomgyu praising you for taking him so well, but by that point, you’re already gone.

the moan that leaves your lips is nearly pornagraphic, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you. all the air is punched out of your lungs and beomgyu thrusts deep into you before settling there, a low groan leaving his lips as his dick twitches inside of you.

“fuck, baby, i love you. i love you so much,” he breathes out as he cums—you feel the hot streaks of his cum painting your insides, shooting places you weren’t even sure existed inside of you. it leaves your mind hazy, unable to even process the way he pulls out, his cum dripping out of you and onto the white sheets.

the feeling of a hot, wet tongue against your entrance makes your hips buck up—you let out a surprised gasp that’s quickly overtaken by a whimper, your hand reaching to entangle itself in his hair.

“wait, gyu—fuck, i’m sensitive,” you whine, feeling your eyes brim with tears at the overstimulation. his tongue flicks against your abused cunt as he cleans up his own cum, fucking it back into you with his tongue.

“you can take it, baby. i know you can,” he pants against your pussy before his lips encircle your clit, sucking and nibbling ever so slightly. you can’t control the noise leaving your lips, whining and moaning as your legs clamp around his head. beomgyu simply chuckles against you before two of his fingers enter your pussy, teasing and prodding at your sentive walls.

“gyu, i can’t, i can’t…” you sob, tears running down your cheeks as the overstimulation sends painful shocks up your spine. you’re gushing around his tongue, the sheets beneath you completely soaked through. your brain fights against itself, your body unsure of whether to press closer or pull away. you can’t think about anything other than beomgyu’s fingers and mouth, eyes squeezed shut as your body racks with sobs.

“yes, you can. cum on my tongue, pretty girl.”

and you do, your back arching as you moan loudly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your hips frot against his face, waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning you. your entire body trembles with shocks as your mind goes blank, flopping back onto the bed as you attempt to catch your breath. tears are still running down your cheeks—your entire body feels like it’s floating. you’re completely wrung out. that was probably the hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

you don’t even register beomgyu’s soft hands on your cheeks as he wipes your tears away, his lips pressing against your forehead, your nose; anywhere his lips can reach. it’s grounding as you slowly come back down to earth.

“you did so well for me, baby. so, so perfect. so beautiful. you took it all, i’m so proud of you.”

you blink your eyes open at his words, feeling those butterflies flock with the way he’s watching you so attentively, his eyes flitting across your face quickly.

“i didn’t go too far, did i?” beomgyu’s voice is almost nervous, low and quiet in your ear as he strokes the side of your face. you crack a small smile at how cute he looks, reaching up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes.

“no, not at all. i liked it,” you reassure, your fingers trailing down his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. he visibly melts into your touch at the words, shoulders slumping in relief.

“thank god,” he breathes out, slumping on top of you—you half-heartedly protest, but the weight is nice, loving the way it feels to have his chest rise and fall against yours, his head resting in the crook your neck. you wrap your arms around him with a little giggle, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“you big baby,” you tease. he’s completely unbothered, though, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before settling against you again.

“only around you.”

the quiet is relaxing, hearing the calm waves of the beach down the hill and the slight buzz of the air conditioner. as much as your brain wants to believe that you imagined it, his words from a few moments ago ring like a mantra in your head. words that make your chest tight, and your mind spin, and your stomach flutter. having him in your arms like this makes you sure that what you heard wasn’t made up in your mind.

“you said you love me.”

a beat of silence.

“hm?” he hums inquisitively as if he didn’t hear you correctly the first time.

“when you, um—when you… came…” you whisper the last part, feeling the vibrations of beomgyu’s laugh fill your own chest.

“you’re still shy after all of that?” beomgyu asks incredulously as he lifts his head to look at you. a tiny, playful smile sits on his lips and you pout, nudging him softly.

“stop changing the topic!” beomgyu laughs again as he relaxes back into your hold.

“okay, i did say i love you. because i do. i love you.”

the words hit you deeper this time, now that your mind is clear—he sounds so sure of himself, and the confidence seeps into you, confirming your own feelings that have been threatening to spill over these last few days.

“i love you too.” you pause for a second. “ like, love love you.”

beomgyu chuckles against your skin, his arms tightening around your frame as he nuzzles in closer to you, despite already being skin to skin. he’s cute, you think.

“i’d hope ‘love love’ is what we’re talking about right now,” he speaks almost sarcastically and you lightly tug his hair for being a smartass—you get the opposite reaction you were searching for though because beomgyu dramatically moans at the action just to rile you up even more.

“oh my god, you’re insufferable,” you huff, but the smile on your face is telling enough as he lifts his head once again to meet your eyes—his hair is all messy and strewn about, lips bitten red and raw, cheeks flushed; and that fact that you’re in love with your best friend full sinks in. he’s everything to you.

“but you love me.”

you sigh.

“yea. i do.”

a blinding smile breaks out on beomgyu’s lips as he leans in to peck yours a few times, your body melting as he kisses you with so many emotions, it makes your heart get caught in your throat, your skin buzzing with contentment.

he pulls away, sitting up to climb off the bed, searching for his sweatpants.

“come on. time for me to do my husband duties and run you a bath.”

“you’re still comitting to this, huh?” you giggle as you sit up too, watching his figure retreat towards the bathroom. beomgyu turns slightly, the smile on his lips absolutely menacing.

“so? i gotta practice for the future.”

your future, you brain tells you.

and that idea isn't so bad, you think.

reblogs and feedback are highly cherished!

tags! @grayscorner @banggyu0308 @huckleberrykai @agustdiv1ne @yunhorights @nes-caf @1921choi

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt #txt imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beomgyu imagines #beom-pyu #beomgyu smut #txt smut #beomgyu hard hours

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stinkysam · 11 months

Text

Vinsmoke Sanji - Oh boy.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Sanji falling for an ftm „he / they“ reader and feeling conflicted not only because that’s the first time he ever realized he liked a guy but also because he never even FLIRTED with a guy (...) And all in all just being awkward and waaaaay overthinking this just because he’s very much a confused newly discovered bisexual as well as „first time trans ally“ and is trying his best. Extra points: Reader immediatly knows what’s up and is just like „lol. : )“ because he thinks Sanjis awkward fumbling is adorable, before he puts Sanji out of his misery and goes „I like you. Wanna go out on a date sometimes?“" - anon

Reader : male (he/they/you)

A/N : Part TWO

Sanji likes women.

That's a fact everyone knows.

Or thought they knew.

So you can guess his surprises when he realizes his feelings for you ; a man. Not believing he could think such things with you !

Why is he caring who you're looking at ? Or why does he suddenly care about the way your eyes shine ? Or how you smile and how cute it is ? Why does his heart beat faster each time you compliment his cooking, your hand gently resting on his chest ? You could probably feel the way it was pounding under your palm.

He goes through a small stage of denial. And thinks he's being an asshole because he still sees you as a woman. Which he doesn't but his feelings make him think he's being transphobic and he absolutely hates it.

Because you're a man and he sees you as such. So when he finally realizes he's not transphobic but just bi he relaxes a bit.

And now he's scared. Because what if you don't feel the same ? Right ?

Or worse ? What if you think what he thought ? That he's being a transphobe and still seeing you as a woman ? What if he starts flirting and you see it disrespectful ?

Wait, how does he even flirt with a man ?

He doesn't know how to do it with any man, or with you, for that matter. You don't flirt with a man the same way you flirt with a lady. Right ?

Would you like to be called handsome ? Or perhaps pretty ? Or is pretty too feminine and you'd prefer handsome ? Or maybe you don't mind and like both ? Would you like flowers ? He wouldn't mind receiving them so maybe you wouldn't mind either ?

God, why is it so hard flirting with a man ?

He's really uncertain so he prefers to start with compliments. Your clothing, your hairstyle, your fighting…

He wants to start small in hope you see it as him being serious with you.

When he eventually starts flirting he's still really shy and unsure, fumbling on his words and stuttering.

The sentence he had prepared for you leaves his brain the second he opens his mouth.

But then !? You flirted back ?! You winked at him and invited him for dinner at a restaurant on the island you stopped at ?!

W h a t ! ?

He feels his heart burst in his chest. Just simply exploding. BOOM.

He's at a loss for words as he tries to smile. How does one smile by the way ? He's so happy he forgot. He's so sheepish he almost doesn't answer, giggling a little before finally accepting your offer.

Suddenly he's hoping he didn't read it wrong and you really flirted back.

"No, because, they could've invited me to be nice. Or maybe he also invited the others as well ? What if it's just not us two and I come with flowers like a fool ? I have to ask them. But will I look stupid if I do so ? …" He thought to himself.

"Um, just to make sure we're on the same page, [Name], it's a uh… d-"

"Date, yeah. Tomorrow night." You say with a small smile, slightly proud of yourself as you look into his eyes.

You swear you could see the way the air got stuck in his throat as he stopped breathing.

"Okay." He started, still sheepish. "Good." And with that he turns around and leaves. He doesn't know where he's going but he's definitely going somewhere. He needs a walk to calm down anyway.

Not that the food was bad the other times but you ate extra good this evening. You had plenty of choice and even Luffy didn't know where to start.

#male reader #m!reader #ftm!reader #trans reader #one piece imagine #one piece #one piece x male reader #one piece live action #opla imagine #opla x male reader #opla sanji #opla #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x male reader #vinsmoke sanji imagine

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lihhelsing · 11 months

Text

Part 4 - Catfish Steddie

Author's Note: This part turned out to be bigger than I expected, so I also decided to take this to AO3. I'll update when I have the link, but I'll keep posting over here too, and doing the tag list at the end. Thanks for reading! Look out for two more parts after this one!

Now on Ao3

It's not that Steve didn't care that someone was using his face to catfish people. He knew, from how little Eddie wanted to discuss it, how it affected him. How it messed with his self-image and his ability to trust others.

Steve could feel it in the way Eddie always seemed to be ready to bolt from him. He offered something real and then pulled back again. It was a slow back and forth that Steve didn't mind, because he knew what he wanted.

Eddie. He wanted Eddie.

He felt the way he retracted every time Steve complimented him, hiding behind jokes or self-deprecating comments. Steve tried to reassure him, and he felt like he was winning.

But when Eddie called the catfish number, that he still had on his phone under Steve's name for some reason, it was like every inch they had walked towards each other had disappeared. Eddie retracted again, as if he was certain he was reading the situation right when he possibly couldn't be.

"I don't understand," Eddie says at first and Steve tries reaching out for him, seeing the exact moment Eddie flinches away.

It hurts more than he can admit.

"Eddie, let's talk about this," Steve says, but he can see it in Eddie's eyes, how he just wants to run out of there.

"Why do you have two phones?"

"It's not my phone," Steve says calmly. Eddie's not calm.

"It's in your house. Your couch!" his voice comes out a little strangled, and he jumps from the couch, the other phone still gripped hard in his hand.

"Can I see it?" Steve raches his hand, but Eddie shakes his head. "Please. It's not mine, I swear."

But Steve can see how his words go through Eddie and doesn't really make an impression. It's just words, especially if he doesn't try to see how crazy it would be. Why would Steve invite Eddie over to his place and not hide the phone better?

Why would Steve be so careless about the whole thing?

"Eddie, I swear. This phone is not mine. I have no idea what's-"

"I have to go," Eddie says, his hands are shaking and Steve wants to hold him and make him listen but Eddie is not in the mood to listen and Steve can't force him so he just nods, lets the fight leave his body and Eddie hurriedly gets his things and leaves.

Before closing the door, he drops the phone on the table and doesn't look back.

Steve thinks his heart could explode from how fucked up he feels right now.

It's not really surprising, but Steve doesn't sleep at all. He tries a couple of password combinations and when he gets to Chrissy's birthday, the phone unlocks in his hands.

Steve is scared as he scrolls through it.

Robin always seemed nice, even if they weren't all that close. Sometimes Steve even thought they were friends. He didn't have much experience with those and most of his friends were kids that he used to babysit when he was in high school, but he thought he and Robin could've been friends, somehow.

Maybe he was wrong.

But when Steve pulls on one of the only apps he sees on the phone, he feels…

He doesn't know how he feels as he looks at a profile with his picture and name on it. There are a bunch of chats in there and he sees himself flirting with lots of girls - and guys.

He doesn't remember mentioning to Robin he's bisexual, but she must've picked up on it for some reason. Steve doesn't mind, he feels comfortable with his sexuality but he doesn't feel comfortable with a bunch of people thinking they are talking to him when in reality…

It's not surprising that he doesn't get much sleep, really.

Steve is in his room when he hears the front door unlocking. It's still before nine and Robin doesn't usually come home that early on the weekends. She likes to spend the day with her girlfriend Chrissy and Steve gets it.

He listens carefully as she walks inside, doesn't even stop to take off her boots, so Steve hears the click, click, click as she moves through their tiny apartment. He hears rustling sounds and then.

"Shit," Robin's voice is low, muffled by the closed door. Steve thought a lot about how to do this and yet he feels sick to his stomach. "Where the fuck did I put it?"

He gets up and slowly makes his way to the door, opening it a little.

"Robin?" he asks. Her head snaps in his direction and she looks panicked.

"Steve? What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Is everything ok? You look-"

"Yeah, yeah! Everything's great," Robin forces out a smile. "I just forgot something Chrissy really needed and you know her, she gets really mad at me and I need to fix it, otherwise she will hate me forever and I-"

"I don't know."

Robin frowns. "What?"

"I don't know her. You never… Introduced us."

Steve doesn't know what he's saying, but neither does Robin. She looks frazzled, on the verge of a breakdown. Steve can't say he's not enjoying it, though.

"Well, we should. You know, do something, the three of us!" Robin is talking frantically now, her voice taking on a high-pitched tone that shows Steve how desperate she is. "Anyway, we can decide on that later! Don't worry about me, just go back to sleep! I'll be super quiet!"

She finished her sentence whispering and smiling at Steve, but he doesn't buy it. Her smile is completely fake and her hair is a mess, sticking up to all sides.

"Ok," he says, playing along. He moves to close the door and Robin isn't even looking at him anymore. She's kneeling on the ground and looking under the couch. "Oh, Robin?"

She almost hits her head as she looks up at him.

"Did you happen to be looking for this phone?"

Steve holds it out for her and she squints her eyes, processing, and then all the color gets drained from her face.

Steve can't say he hates it.

Robin fidgets nervously with her hands as she and Steve sit side by side on the couch. The phone is almost burning a hole through their table and Robin hasn't tried anything too crazy like grabbing it and running away.

Maybe even someone like her can tell when she lost a battle.

"So… Care to explain?"

Steve tries to keep his tone neutral but from the way she flinches, he knows he failed. Robin takes a deep breath, then another.

"I'm sorry," she says, not looking at him. Steve raises a brow.

"For what? Catshing people? Using my picture and my name without permission? Lying to my face?" He sounds so angry he barely recognizes his own voice. Steve is not a guy to get really angry, he's good at taking a punch, but this feels… Too much.

Robin shakes her head. "All of the above?"

The worst of it is that Steve wants to laugh. Robin looks outright miserable and his entire chest feels heavy when he remembers how Eddie looked at him, but this is too crazy for him not to laugh.

"I'm really sorry Steve, I didn't mean-"

"Can you just… Not? Just tell me. Why? Why me?" He says sharply and has to pinch his hand to try and get himself in check. He already knows there's nothing Robin can say that will make this ok to him.

It's not only that she lied to him. She used him to lie to other people. She hurt other people. But she made Steve think he was doing something wrong. She watched Steve try and try and try knowing she would never let him in because she couldn't stand the guilt.

Robin sighs dramatically.

"It started as a joke, I swear. When you first moved in, I kept telling Chrissy how you looked like a hot model from a magazine. How I had never seen a guy so good looking in my life and mind you I don't like guys. But you're… You know, objectively attractive."

"Uh… Thanks?"

"Chrissy found that super funny. She said you must've been one of those guys who were always hooking up with girls and I agreed. Like, it took me six months to gather the courage to ask Chrissy out and I still wasn't sure she was going to say yes, and then Chrissy was saying how you probably didn't have this problem because anyone would say yes to you."

Steve frowns at her. Robin has a tendency of rambling and talking really fast and Steve feels he's not following.

"So it was a prank?"

"I mean… Yes! At first. Chrissy and I wanted to see what it was like to be you on Tinder. You know, how many people we would match with, so we just swiped right non-stop. On the next day, there were thousands of messages for you."

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and he sees a faint dust of pink on Robin's cheeks. She's embarrassed.

"Chrissy laughed and moved on, but I kept thinking about it and I started talking to people there because why not? It was kind of addictive, being someone else. I know it's wrong and honestly I have no interest in anyone other than Chrissy, but it was fun to like, make up this whole persona and just see what people would do. I was curious about life as Steve Harrington. It must be easier than trying to flirt as, you know, me."

"And Chrissy doesn't know?"

Robin shakes her head. "She thinks I dropped the whole thing, but I couldn't. So I got a new phone, I deleted everything from my phone and I just kept going. I wanted to know how long it would take people to want a date. I started analyzing data, and I thought it would be a good study subject. But it's like I said… I only have eyes for Chrissy. I don't even like men. It was just… A test, I guess."

Steve exhales. He has to be honest, this is way more complicated than he thought it would be. It still doesn't make it ok, and it still confuses the hell out of him.

"Robin, this is fucked up."

"I know ok? But there's just this… Adrenaline thrill. Of creating a personality for you, talking to people and seeing how they act, how they flirt with someone that looks like you. I never experienced any of that because I'm awkward and weird and I like girls. I told one of my professors I was doing it and he said it was fascinating. I couldn't just drop it. He wouldn't let me drop it. He kept saying how I had a chance of a lifetime with it and I just… How the fuck do I say no to that?"

Steve knows it still doesn't make it ok, but he's starting to feel sorry for Robin, so he tries to hold on to the anger. It's easier that way than if he tried to understand her. But there's still this one thing that doesn't make sense.

"But how the hell did that evolve into you setting up a date with Eddie? And that's why you kept telling me to not go out with him isn't it?"

And that… That felt awful. He liked Eddie. He had liked him from the start and because Robin fucked up he had felt a little unsure about asking him out. When she finally speaks, she's not looking at Steve.

"I didn't set up a date with him. I knew I could never do that because there was no way I could keep up the farce if I started doing it. But I should've been more careful. One of the pictures I set up on your profile had the coffee shop in the background. It didn't take a genius to make the connection, but I never thought he was just going to show up like that!"

"Well, that does sound like Eddie," Steve pointed out and he was assaulted with mixed feelings. An ache spreading on his chest as he thought he might never see Eddie again. Because of Robin.

"I panicked when I started getting weird messages from him saying like 'surprise' and 'stop messing around' and I didn't get it. I sent a bunch of question marks and Eddie never got back to me. I figured it out after you told me what had happened and, well, you know what happened next."

After that, Steve stays silent for a long time. Robin keeps fidgeting with her hands as if she's waiting for a death sentence of something.

Steve feels… So many things. He's mad at her, of course he is. But the frustration right now feels so much bigger. Even if Robin thinks it's easier being like him, Steve is tired of all that comes with it.

And Eddie was the first person in a long time that saw Steve in a different way. Sure, he might've started talking to not-Steve for his looks, but right now Eddie knew him. And Steve wasn't ready to let that go. He had no idea how to fix it and his head was pounding with lack of sleep and Robin was… Talking. Always fucking talking.

"Robin!" he said, his voice going up an octave and making her shut her mouth. He got up from the couch and pressed the heels of his hand on his eyes. "I'm just… Please delete the whole thing. I don't care what you're going to tell your professor, but I'm not your little experiment. I just wanted to be your roommate. Maybe even your friend.But right now I just… Just leave me alone, please."

Steve walks to his room without looking back and he only hears when Robin leaves the apartment, a couple of minutes later. Previous | Next

#steve harrington #Eddie Munson #Coffee Shop AU #AU #Alternate Universe #Stranger Things #Fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #Catfish AU #Steddie ficlet

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itsfairly · 3 months

Text

Saying Out Loud // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

cw: none.

notes: HAPPY PRIDE YALL! i normally post once a month, but lets pretend last post was the make-up for may and this one is june's. either way, fits the month, right?

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

"I'm bisexual," you said with a small crack towards the end of your words.

your eyes were constantly shifting between his, searching for any reaction or response from Kento as your fingers fidgeted with each other in an effort to calm your nerves.

it was so uncomfortable, so tense, so terrifying. you know this stuff is told at the beginning of a relationship, not months into it, but things with Kento were going so well. you've never felt so calm around someone, so loved in the most simple yet concrete ways, that a relationship could be so easy and rewarding as this one with him. you wanted to hold on to this stage, this moment where things flowed perfectly and the world seemed to say yes, these two are meant for each other. that's why you took so long to tell him.

after all, how many people treated you differently after they learned this about you?

sorry, its just that i dont want to date someone who will make me look over my shoulder to see if they are being faithful.

what? so you're just gonna leave me when you want to date a man or something?

does that mean we can have a threesome?

its was as if there mere mention of your bisexuality was a burden to them or some sort of fetish. it was exhausting and no matter how much you tried to be fine with it, you weren't.

it wasnt like you didnt trust Kento, he had been nothing but respectful to you and such a gentleman. but god, did those relationships screw up your confidence in this area...you thought you could keep this to yourself, but then again, he deserved to know before things went any further, to walk out if this wasn't what he hoped. you would get it even if it was unfair.

with every second his eyes looked into yours, taking in your words with that stoic expression of his that you could barely read at the moment, the fear was growing in your chest. It kept expanding until it reached your lungs and had to take deep breaths to appear calm about this when you were scared shitless. what would he say? why was he taking so long? he wants to break up, doesn't he? of course, he-

"what made you want to tell me now?" Kento asked, his voice calm as ever as if he was asking where you wanted to have lunch, making you wonder if he was even understanding the severity of your words.

"we've been dating for months now, exclusively even, and you deserved to know before things got serious," you said, feeling your heart race with every word you said. hell, you wondered how you managed to speak so clearly with these many thoughts in your head.

"but are you telling me because you want to or because you felt like you have to?" Kento asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes showing this concern.

that made you blink a few times. this wasn't the kind of reaction you usually received. you were bracing yourself to hear any apprehension, maybe for him to reject or twist your words, but not to see him worried for you like this.

"i told you, we have been dating for a few months and it would be fair if i kept this from you-"

"but its not fair to force yourself either." Kento interrupted you, his words having this firm yet soft tone to them.

his hands reached out to one of yours, covering it completely in his hold. a steady hold opposite to the fidgeting of your fingers, but in his hands, your hand had no choice but to relax.

"you look so stiff you might break, try and take a breath," he adds, his head tilting to the side as his expression softened.

you do just that, mirroring Kento as he also took a deep breath to encourage you to do the same, and while it did help with the nerves, it didn't relieve your confusion. he wasn't saying much on your coming out, he hadn't say a single word about it yet.

"i wanted—want to tell you because i don't want you to find out later on after investing so much in me and just...you don't need to waste your time if someone like me isn't what you were looking for," you explained.

of course you wanted to tell him, but it didn't took away how scary coming out is, especially when the person you're coming out to is so special and you want them in your life regardless. you didn't want to lose him, but you also didn't want to deceive him like this. maybe you did had to push yourself to say it, not wanting to ruin things so quickly, but you couldn't wait any longer.

Kento sighs, making your heart stop for a second. Was he disappointed? Infuriated? Angry?

But when you heard his words as he squeezed your hand, you were surprised to learn how far off you were...

"i must be awful at making it clear that you're exactly who I'm looking for."

suddenly, its as if your heart gains this new energy, beating and beating as if you just ran a marathon. your mouth feels dry as youfeel your brows knitting together, feeling as if this conversation was bringing more surprises to you than to him.

"you don't care that i'm bi?" you asked quietly, your hand squeezing his back in hopes you didn't hear him wrong.

Kento shakes his head, "i do, but not in the way you think," he says, a shadow of a smile coming to the corner of his lip as he scoots closer to you. His eyes look at yours, silently asking if that was okay. You nod.

"i care, not because it annoys me—i would be an asshole if that were the case—, but because i'm learning about you. The you that you feel most authentic to. While i am happy that you are opening up to me about something so important to you, i wished you would feel more comfortable telling me about it because you were ready, not because you felt pressured to. i'm sorry if i made you feel that."

you didnt know what it was at this point, whether it was the adrenaline or sweetness of the moment, but you knew Kento was the reason with all these words he was saying. he wasn't anything like anyone you'd dated before, he was being so sweet and just a dream. you never thought your chest could swell with this feeling while coming out to someone. it felt...easy.

you quickly shake your head, your turn to scoot over to him with your knees bumping against his. "no, no! you didn't pressure me in any way, Kento. its just that i know how much of a dealbreaker this is to some and i..." you took in a deep breath, feeling your throat hitch with this lump, "god, you have no idea how relieving it is to hear that."

you didn't wait a second longer before you wrapped you arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as you rested your forehead in his shoulder. you felt his arms wrapped around you in return, pulling you closer to his body as his hand caressed your back in soothing circles that made your heart calm down.

"someone like you is special," Kento says softly, his breath tickling your ear, "you're choosing me over anyone else, and i feel so honored that you are with me."

you laughed softly, pulling your head back from his shoulder and looking at him with a huge grin. god, he made this so, so easy.

"kento, you have no idea what this means to me. No idea how easy it is to feel lucky right now." You said quietly, taking a deep breath before resting your forehead against his, "thank you, just thank you."

Kento hums, his hand coming up to your scalp to stroke your hair gently. hearing all your words and seeing all the emotions you wore on your sleeve made him realize how big of a step this was for you, how heavy of a topic this was on you. it didn't take a genius to know that this reaction from you meant that this situation didn't went as well in the past with other people, which made his heart hurt for you. Sweet you who thought about him first before herself when this wasn't about him.

more than ever, Kento would make sure that you felt comfortable in your skin and secure in your relationship. you deserved nothing less than that and you were worth investing in as you said in your own words, though he would much rather call it loving you. it sounded more accurate to what he wanted to do.

"you know, now i have to put more effort into our relationship," Kento said softly, a hint of playfulness in his voice, "after all, I'm showing you off to double the people, aren't i?"

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Text

about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter. Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic

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doe-core · 2 months

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INFODUMPING ABOUT JOHN DOE<3

Regular guys are fully grown and were never children

His species is a regular guy (hair ball)

He likes burgers

He doesn’t like sweet things, but would eat anything you made him

He prefers bitter stuff

His favorite snack is teeth

His likes include you, teeth, eyes, baby rats, television, and static

His dislikes are under stimulation, being alone, “That Guy”, You ignoring him, and baths

He is afraid of water (reason being that regular guys have to swim through large bodies of water in order to escape the motherball which causes a fear of water in a lot of regular guys)

Doe nearly drowned in the river when escaping the motherball, which is why he’s afraid of water

Regular guys don’t need to take baths. If their fake body needs to be cleaned, they will simply eat it and reform it again!!

His fake body will melt if it touches water, but his actual body (hair ball) won’t die, it will just be very painful and traumatic

He feels through his hair which means that he doesn’t like combing his hair, tieing it up, and cutting his hair is the equivalent to cutting off limb

He has many teeth

He has the power to manipulate reality and get “You” to say and do anything he wants, as shown in ending 4 “Yes”

He is gender-fluid, bisexual and goes by any pronouns. “His gender is just as mysterious as he is!!”

He has no organs or bones, but he can create them if you wish!

He eats materials to make up his fake body. Harder materials lead to a harder form, as softer materials make his body softer. His form also can freeze in extreme cold and melt in extreme heat

He is around 20-40 years old (Regular guys are already grown when made)

Regular guys produce asexually

They are classified as pests due to how fast they spread

Doe’s IQ is slightly higher than the average in uncanny valley, but slightly lower in the human realm

Doe’s scars are not due to him being “sad”, they are a kink/reminder

The reason he can feel is because strands of hair are spread throughout his body

His hairball form is 2 ft tall

Cartoon physics apply to him and he is described to move like a claymation figure

His voice claim is Weird Al and Fox (the creator) stated that “his voice sounds like when someone is talking to you in a dream and you forget how it sounded”

He states that creating 2 eyes is difficult and it can cause him to have blurred vision, but “he will do it if you think it will make him perfect”

Even though he is a sexually active adult, that is not his main goal. He strives for genuine connections and affection

His shirt changes based on how he’s feeling and it can say words or have pictures!

He doesn’t have pain receptors, so he didnt know that stabbing you in ending 2 would hurt you

He slightly pefers taller and bigger partners because it makes him feel protected, but he will love you no matter what!! He will love you no matter what body type you are!!

He leaves you a gift no matter the ending (ex. even when doe loses interest in ending 3, he still leaves you a parting gift)

He is a sadistic masochist

His interest increases when you choose to not take a shower (he prefers your natural scent)

He also likes to scare you because “you’re cute when you’re scared” :3

If you were to kiss him, he would be very happy and his reality will reflect that!!

Everything about you is appealing to him. EVERYTHING. When he is in love, it is HARD to make him fall out of love, but if you are firm enough with him, he will eventually take the hint.

Doe is a hoarder and is hinted to be very messy. If you had baked him something, (ex. cake, cookies, etc.) he would ether eat it, or keep it in his endless pile of shit <3

Speaking of which, he will most likely lose you in his house :p

He’s not rlly good with comforting people with depression, but he will try his best!! He will give you all the reassurance you need by giving you “gifts”,(i use that word very lightly) affection, and watching tv with you!!

He repeats words to emphasize how he’s feeling!! (ex. “I just love love love you!!”)

He loves the feeling of static from when you lick vintage television (whatever the fuck that means 😭)

Though, he doesn’t need to blink and only blinks when he wants to, when he does blink, it sounds like something else. (ex. car crash, glass breaking, screaming, metal clanking together, etc.)

His birthday is November 35th!! (people celebrate it on the 5th of december!)

He behaves like he’s in a cartoon and can be a little slow… (in a loveable way ofc)

He’s allergic to pollen and certain types of flowers </3

He’s also more prone to abdominal pain and nausea;(

Even though he is odd, he is NOT the creepiest creature in the valley

If doe were an animal, he would be a Bullet Dog or a Bark Cat <3

If you were to die, he wouldn’t notice it right away *_*

Doe likes the classic series!!

If you try to comb his hair, his hair WILL absorb it

He watches you sleep :3

He has no ears ^.^

He can drink anything as thick or thicker than oil or blood!

His favorite colors are bright red and burnt orange

He LOVES insects!!

He has no blood and he is naturally hard as clay

Speaking of clay, he doesn’t smell bad or good, he smells like clay or wet rain.

He feeds birds when he’s lonely in the valley 🥲💕

He can’t cry, but he can melt and whine as if he were crying

He is a demonic entity (good luck, buddy!)

Because regular guys reproduce asexually, he can create a mini doe!!

He has no friends or family (besides you ofc <3)

He’s goth but he doesn’t know it >_<

He is 5’8 :3

He weighs 50 kilograms!! (110lbs)

His skin is uncomfortably warm to the touch

If you ever tried to stab him, the knife would get sucked into him and would reappear in his hand.

He does not taste good! His fake body has no nutritional value and in fact REMOVES nutrition from yours!!

It’s hard for him to close his mouth lol

You meet him in House Hunted 2, then see him in HH 1, then finally in the John Doe game!

Idk if I said this, but his nails are naturally black and his teeth are naturally yellow <3

He doesn’t know how to wear his jacket properly

Idk if this is true, but his scars may represent how many times he’s tried to get with you-

If he got piercings, they would melt into his body within 20 minutes 😭

He can express sadness, but not in the way others can

His voice would probably be really deep in the middle of the game

When it’s his birthday, streamers and balloons randomly appear in his house and he celebrates it with his meat effigy of You!

Although he’s not the most dangerous thing in uncanny valley, he’s very hard to kill.

Things he finds cute: Everything “You” does, when “You” is scared, baby rats before they grow hair, heartbeats, and eye contact <3

His favorite candy would be hard candy (or glass 😭)

His hair is slick and uncomfortably warm

Saying “I love you” is his way of flirting

He’s not mentally ill, it’s just the way he acts

He will talk to you about his favorite shows

If he gets to eat you, he sees it as a bonus <3

If you were upset, he would stare at you, call you cute, and wrap his hair around you

He would never hurt you out of strong negative emotions 🥩🖤

He has many rows of teeth that are just collected teeth to try to mimic a human smile

He would never hurt an animal, but they’re scared of him :(

He pefers eating things raw <3

His tongue looks like a lil heart in his mouth, but it’s very long

Whenever he uses human like materials for his body, he looks a lot older and crusty, so he consumes things like metal to create a cleaner body

He stops smiling when someone makes him mad or upset

He has many outfits, but his main outfit is his favorite

He’s a stalker, but not an insane stalker

He weights about 2.5 pounds in his hairball form

He doesn’t have a belly button

He hates Maison Talo because he gets too close to the MC

regular guys are actually pretty clean and they don’t need to bathe! if his human body does get too dirty, he will eat it and craft it over again, but if his hairball body gets dirty, he can take a dust bath! regular guys usually tend to each others hygienic needs too!

#john doe #john doe x reader #john doe game #john doe x you #visual novel #horror #fun facts

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hardboiledleggs · 2 years

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Tattoo Artist Eddie Munson Part 2

Part 1 Here!

I could kiss all of you consensually on the mouth, you were so nice about part 1 I cried several times. Here is the long awaited part 2, which I am considering turning into a full length fic on ao3 so if anyone wants to follow me there here it is! Sorry it is so short! This is mostly a stepping stone for my plan for part 3. As always, if anyone would like to be added to my permanent Steddie fic tag list or the tag list for this fic specifically, let me know below :)

~~~

As a general rule, Steve considers himself a confident person. Unfortunately, there’s something about Eddie Munson that reduces him to a nervous, sweaty wreck with decidedly NOT perfect hair. Every time he pulls the now well-worn scrap of paper with Eddie’s number from his pocket, his heart rate jumps to an unhealthy level, and he stuffs it away. This has, of course, royally pissed off Robin Buckley.

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Steve. What is the point of getting a cute guy’s number if you aren’t even going to use it? I think I would have called him more than you have by now, and he doesn’t even have boobies!”

Steve crosses his arms and lets out a disgruntled huff. “Look, I told him some seriously personal stuff, okay? I doubt he even wants me to call him.”

Robin shoots him a deadly glare as she restocks the chocolate chunk ice cream, her stern look tempered slightly by her ridiculous sailor outfit. Scoops Ahoy is an okay place to work, all things considered, but Steve has considered reporting the ice cream shop to the Better Business Bureau for the uniforms alone.

“Why the hell would he give you his number, then? Please don’t be a dingus,” she snorts as she wipes an arm across her sweaty forehead.

“He probably felt bad for me, okay? Seriously. If I had told you that story, you wouldn’t be like ‘Wow, can’t wait to jump his bones!’ You’d think I was a pathetic dude with daddy issues,” Steve groans, flopping forward against the counter. His track record with guys had been, so far, awful. It was hard enough to be a bisexual man in the 80s, let alone in a small town in Indiana. One wrong move, the wrong word, and he could be arrested or worse. It didn’t give a guy a whole lot of confidence.

“For the record, I wouldn’t have wanted to jump your bones regardless, but whatever,” Robin says dryly. Her eyes are soft as she catches his arm. “Just don’t let yourself lose out on something nice ‘cause you’re scared, okay?”

Steve doesn’t look at her as he tugs out of her grip and starts organizing the spoons.

~~~

Eddie Munson has always hated places like the Starcourt Mall. There are always way too many people, too much erroneous noise, and the workers start to follow you around the store if you start touching everything that looks like it might be soft. However, even he cannot deny the hypnotic pull of a brand-new Tower Records shop.

Weaving in between soccer moms and bubblegum-chewing teenage girls, he skids around a corner and gazes above the heads of the crowd, trying to spot the Tower Records logo amongst the perms. Nothing catches his eye except a blue and red neon sign flashing ‘Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor’ across the mall. Figuring there were worse places to take a break and get directions, Eddie shrugs and fights his way through the crowd and steps into the nautical ice cream parlor.

The man at the counter has his back to Eddie, but upon hearing Eddie’s boots squeak on the linoleum he turns and begins to recite sullenly, as if from a drilling manual; “Ahoy, are you ready to set off into an ocean of flavor with me as your capt-“

Steve snaps his mouth shut when he makes eye contact with Eddie. In comparison, Eddie’s mouth is gaping like a beached trout, and he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to shut it, because Steve, “tattoo boy who he had moaned and whined about to Argyle for literal hours” Steve, is standing right in front of him in tiny shorts and a sailor’s hat and is that lip gloss?

His face is on fire, smoke might be coming out of his ears, but he can’t bring himself to look away from the shorts. Apparently, the Scoops Ahoy motto was “Serve ice cream and invade Eddie Munson’s wet dreams for at least a month!” Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot, his discomfort growing as the silence stretches longer. It had been days since they’d met, and Steve hadn’t called once. Wayne had gotten so sick of him asking if he had any messages that he’d threatened to tear the phone out of the wall.

“Well, hiya Stevie. How’d that ink turn out? Thought I might get to hear about it after you left, but I think my phone might be busted? That, or my uncle is lying to me about not getting any messages.” There. False bravado. The tried and true method of any queer man about to get rejected by an obscenely handsome ice cream salesman.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts. His hands twitch, as though he wanted to reach across the grimy counter but thought better of it at the last second. “I didn’t know how to call you and… so I didn’t.”

His face is ashen, full lips parted as he breathes. Eddie thinks he might never see a more beautiful thing in his life, but he takes a step back, a false grin stretching his lips into a practiced and careful expression.

“Hey, man, no big deal. I misread things. It happens! You were darling, and I am well-known for my sweet tooth.” He smiles a real smile this time and holds out his hand to shake. “No hard feelings as long as you can point me in the direction of the new record store?”

Steve stares at his ring-clad fingers for too long before he turns and starts to wrestle with the junky cash register on the counter. Something snaps as he yanks it open and fumbles for the receipt paper, tearing off a sheet and beginning to scribble furiously. Eddie is just thinking to himself that this guy must think he’s too stupid to remember one or two sentences of directions when the paper is shoved into his outstretched hand. Steve has scrawled his full name and number in thin, slanted handwriting.

A bubble of hope rises in Eddie’s chest as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand. This isn’t platonic with a capital P. Or at least if it is, the universe is mean and should reevaluate how it operates.

“This way you can call me, because I’m a total chickenshit and am definitely terrified of you,” Steve declares as he gnaws on his bottom lip. “Or if I fucked it up that’s whatever and I get it. The record store is like 15 stores down to the right.” He looks like a puppy someone had kicked and left out in the rain.

“When is your shift over? Or rather, when will you be home and sitting by the phone?” Eddie asks in a breathless rush.

Steve’s face brightens with a shy but triumphant smile. “I’m off at 7, home by 7:15!”

“7:30, loverboy. I need a ride.” The pane of frosted glass behind Steve slides open, revealing a pretty girl in a similar uniform to her coworker, although her outfit isn’t having quite the same effect on Eddie as Steve’s is. Grinning like a hyena, she pulls a whiteboard out from behind her and uncaps a marker, putting a single tally in a column labeled “You Rule” that has thus far remained empty. Steve tosses a waffle cone at her head, which she ducks, before sliding the panel shut once more.

“7:30 then. Got it. Expect my call, big boy,” Eddie bows theatrically. He steps backward, attempting a suave exit, and spins around before he can say anything else horrific and embarrassing like “Need a skipper for your next voyage?”

As he is hurrying out of the shop, he hears a crash and a shout of “Buckley, you are so dead!” Eddie grins and stares down at the phone number in his hand, trip to the record store completely forgotten. Steve Harrington had no idea what he was signing up for.

~~~

If I tag you in error I am so sorry!! Please message me or comment and I will take you off no hard feelings I am super frazzled by the response to this series and very likely have screwed up this list. If I missed your name feel free to absolutely roast me in the comments :) I can take the heat

Tag list (Holy moly here we go) - @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @throwbackthrowaway @vampireinthesun @mightbeasleep @steve-the-hairrington @nelotegreitic @swimmingbirdrunningrock @thehumblefigtree @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @idsellmysoulforsteddie @toobluebrunette @azreadytodie @rainydays35 @luna-munson83 @sl1187 @artiststarme @bethebitch @ultrarainbowunicorn100 @doilooklikebees @this-is-moony-lovegood @impeachy @grimmfitzz @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @maya-custodios-dionach @brassreign @kurumeki @zerokrox-blog @starxlark @chaoticvictorianspirit @2nd-star-2-the-rhgt @adankrivervalleynearyou @yikes-a-bee @e0509 @babyblender @shinekocreator @hope-can-be-your-sword @hellomynameismoo @knitsforthetrail @thegingerrapunzel @blindbisexualgoose @4nemo1egend @piningapple @aceflavouredyougurt @cyranyx @fruitandbubbles @eyesofshinigami @thefreakandthehair @prettyboyandthemetalhead @void-library @steddio @jjoesjonas @vecnuthy @twiggspots @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @sweetcreaturetm @morning-rituals @inmoonywetrust @kyoxyukiforever

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gaymurdersalad · 3 months

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[ HOWDY Y’ALL! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A FUN BROADCAST!

If you haven’t noticed, it’s pride month! That means we’re legally allowed to be gay for an entire month before we have to disappear into our burrows once more! To celebrate the occasion, I decided to do a fun little pride post! ]

[ I’ve gathered all the little fuckers in The Void to poke and prod at them like zoo animals. In other words, I figure they all have some neat identities and wouldn’t mind being interrogated in honor of pride month. I’ll go ahead and turn it over to them, but I’ll say now, no matter how much they kick and scream, I am definitely NOT holding them at gunpoint! This workspace is… definitely OSHA approved. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. Have attem! ]

> This is fucking stupid. Stop waving that gun at me. I’m talking.

> My identity isn’t anything special. I’m just some guy who decided he was a guy way later than everyone else did. I don’t really give a damn what pronouns people use on me because usually they just end up avoiding me at all costs or scampering away like frightened animals.

> I’m bisexual, is that anything? But, like, only bisexual in a sexual way. I could not fucking fathom living a long prosperous life with anyone. How the hell are you supposed to enjoy someone for that long? Getting married seems like a scam. I bet it is. I bet it’s like the invention of Valentine’s Day for greeting card companies. You’re not actually supposed to be in love with someone for that long, it just doesn’t seem possible.

> … My marriage with Dave does not count, that wasn’t an officiated wedding. I’m fairly certain he fished those rings out of a water fountain and pawned his dress off a hooker. I do vividly recall dumpster diving for my tuxedo.

> Uhhhhhh wuh? Hmmmm, I’onno what the hell I am, Old Sport! Fuck!

> Shit, I guess I like everyone. A hole’s a hole. Why the fuck would I discriminate? I think I got a preference for men though! They’re so fuckin’ easy to romance! Unless they’re the likes of Sportsy, then it’s the hardest goddamn thing you’ll ever seduce. He gets real gay when he’s on acid, but then again, I get real gay on cocaine. Man, our wedding was immaculate. Imma tell our kids about it one day!

> Likewise, I’ll be any gender you fuckin’ want me to be. I got like, pocket gender, I can just whip it out on request. Want me to be a dude? Fuck yeah, alright. Want me to be a pretty lady? No goddamn problem at all! I can be both at the same time or one more than the other— who gives a shit? I’m just havin’ fun.

> Good fucking lord, really? That shotgun does not scare me, you orange fool—

> … I have a complicated identity. As any other living organism does.

> I have found that over the years I do not experience sexual attraction and that I experience little to no romantic attraction. I only recall feeling romantically attracted to one person in my entire life. I doubt it will happen again. > And it may seem, uhm... Embarrassing, but I do deviate from your traditional "man's man". In laymen's terms, I do not feel particularly drawn to being male. I am very certain I was born with the intention of being a man, but my mind has refused to accept it. I am not sure why. Instead of feeling like a proper bloke, I feel rather empty. If I could have it my way, I would be some... human silhouette rather than a full fledged man. I do not know. This is idiotic. > I cringe every time someone addresses me in a masculine way. I wish I could simply have no pronouns. I can deal with them because I am indeed a grown ass... person, but I just wish it were not so. Whatever. I am done complaining.

> Oh! That’s very simple, this is really easy.

> I literally don’t have anything going for me at all.

> What with the entire fabric of time being on my shoulders and all, I don’t even think about gender or romance much. I do love being a girl! It’s one of the things I miss most about being alive, actually. Pretty dresses, playing with makeup in the bathroom, trying to curl my hair without burning my scalp— I mean, it sounds horrendous sometimes, but you can’t beat it. Feeling alive and content in your own skin. Just one of those precious things that spawned from the chance of life.

> … Uhm, Uhhh… Men.

> Yeah. I Like Them. I Think… Yes, I Could Probably Date A Man Or Two. I Don’t Know, Employee, Why Did You Pull Me Out Here? You Know I Have Copious Paperwork To Do! Some @$!# $#*@ Kid Just Fell Into The Ball Pit And Got Mauled Jaws-Style And His Parents Are Really Grilling Us For It. Dumb&@#*s, It’s Not My Fault Their Kid Heeded The Call Of The Sirens. I Swear, This Job Is Going To Kill Me Or Force My Hand Into Becoming The Next Purple Guy—

> extremely in love with my wife and my gender!

> it was actually very cute how we met, employee. have i ever told you? heh heh, we met in highschool. she was on the football team and i was a cheerleader, can you believe that? oh, i was head over heels for her instantly. she was strong, she was quick thinking, she was so hecking beautiful, employee… i never got to tell her how i felt while we were in highschool, but we were good friends. very good friends. come a few years later, some old buddies of ours want to have a get together and dish it out like old times… go vandalize and drive off into the sunset in the back of a pickup truck sipping on horrendously cheap beer and laughing off our university work or our jobs. when i get to our spot, though, i see her. i’d recently wised up to my gender, y’know, had my hair cut and fresh scars on my chest, so suffice to say i looked nothing like i did when i cheered for her during football season. she’d done the same, employee— she grew out her hair to the middle of her back in such beautiful dark curls, her bangs tied back so every inch of her perfect face could glimmer underneath the neon lights of the derelict bowling alley we’d found ourselves in. she looked at me, and i sensed instant recognition. she smiled through her bright red lipgloss and rushed up to me, wrapping me up in a hug, and i swear, she hadn’t lost any of those muscles— almost broke my ribs!

> the rest of the night, we were so… comfortable together. sure, during highschool we were close, but without saying a single word about what happened to us between then and now, we understood, and employee— i think it brought us closer. it was around three in the morning while we sat around a bonfire with the rest of our buddies when she layed her head on my shoulder and i felt an unfathomable warmth. i knew i wanted her for the rest of my life.

> … i just love her so much, employee.

> oh ok

> its rlly whatever. any pronouns any gender anybody who wants me. who cares

> oh i do have a preference for girls. theyre pretty. if you disagree u are not blessed enough to be loved by gods best creation and ur pissed about it. i can tell

> what if i was actually catholic would that be fucked up or what

> …

> … I cannot… physically stress how abhorrent sexuality is to me. What… What an utterly damning notion. Someone’s greedy hands cursing you and plaguing your with their own dirty human desires. How disrespectful. How… invasive. Why on Earth would it be my responsibility to supply someone with something to love? Am I really subject to whatever the hell people think of me? Whether they “love” me or perceive me as some… some man, some object of attraction? Disgusting.

> If I could shed every trace of a sex or gender from my loathed corpse, I would. Often times I lay awake at night and consider skinning myself for the hell of it. I’ve related this to David and he said I sounded “fuckin’ insane”. Stupid bastard. I want to be a skeleton. I wanna be a fucking skeleton! Pretty and thin and not alive whatsoever! God damn this accursed body and its… rancid flesh and unidentifiable mystery goop. Ugh. Ugh!!!! God, the biggest blight on my “life” was being cursed with gender!

> I was born as a female which was just laughably wrong, then I recall amending that and trying to become a man, but none of it worked. All of it sucked. All of it was wretched. The ideal form is a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. You can’t romance a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. Can’t have sex with that. Unless you’re really, really determined. I don’t think even David could be that serious about his sexuality.

> … I… Hope. Oh dear. Oh god, I really am unsafe from the horrors of this world. God, I wish that bear had taken me out before I showed him to his grave.

#gaymurdersalad #salad lore #not salad #pride event #direct doggo walked so everyone else on earth could run #those who know. know

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tamryisk · 10 months

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BroZone + Poppy & Viva headcanons!

I feel like infodumping about my headcanons for the crew so here they are!!!

Poppy:

Age: 23

Pronouns: she/her

Pansexual

Has ADHD (mainly attention deficit and hyperactivity)

She's Latina (Salvadorian, Mexican and Black)

More of a King Peppy hc but he's Salvadorian and Mexican, their mom is probably black and Mexican

Has Synesthesia (mainly being seeing color when others speak or when she hears noises)

Was a premature baby

Branch

Age: 25

Pronouns: He/him

Bisexual

Has autism

He's Black and Filipino

His common stims are flapping his hands and biting his lip

Has BPD (borderline personality disorder) due to his trauma from a young age

Had extensive singing training as a kiddo

Was nicknamed Twig cuz he was small as a baby

Quite fond of kids and finds them cute

Viva

Age: 28

Pronouns: She/they

Pansexual

Autistic and ADHD

She loves playing with people's hair, mainly Clay's

Calls Clay "Clayton" to mess with him/piss him off

Has a form of adjustment disorder and severe attachment issues (in the sense that she is constantly trying to keep those she loves in a place where she thinks is safe)

Has been singing since she could talk

Her first word was probably "music"

John Dory

Age: 45

Pronouns: He/him

Aromantic & asexual

Neurotypical

He feels forced to make sure he and his brother's are perfect just because he's the oldest

He doesn't like it when he's called bossy

Tends to speak a little too honestly (he's vv blunt)

Cares a lot for his brothers, especially Branch since he's the youngest

Not fond of kids, but loves his niece and nephews

Supports his gay brothers (Floyd and Branch) the best he can as an ace-aro (he's not interested in love but tries to for all of his brothers sake 😭 but they don't mind his disinterest)

Enjoys rap and pop music, maybe even hip-hop

Bruce

Age: 40

Pronouns: he/him

Demisexual

Neurotypical

He could rant about Brandi for ages, he loves her so much

Knows sign language because one of his kids are deaf (all the brothers know sign language mainly cuz branch was nonverbal for a while and spoke with sign)

Plays bass guitar

Clay

Age: 35

Pronouns: he/they

Asexual & demiromantic

QPP's with Viva

Doesn't understand why Floyd is emo 💀

Has OCD

He LOVES *NSYNC's music and had no idea Branch was the lead singer

Loves to crochet things for Viva and now he can make things for all of his brothers

AND FINALLY MY SECOND FAVORITE BROTHER!!!!

Floyd

Age: 30

Pronouns: he/him

HE IS GAY. PERIOD. he's also demisexual!

Nearly cried when Branch came out to him, didn't stop hugging him and telling him how proud he was of his little brother

Isn't too fond that Branch had vocal training at such a young age

Autistic

He's emo, he likes emo shit and he's an emo FREAK‼️‼️‼️ (he's silly tho)

Good friends with Veneer and visits him sometimes (he's kinda scared of Velvet)

Doesn't like being stereotyped as a typical gay man

Taught Branch how to walk and speak sign language before he taught the rest of his brothers how to speak ASL (American Sign Language)

That's all I got :33 fell free to share ur headcanons in the tags if you wanna!!!!!!

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goldengalore · 2 years

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Hardest to Love

Summary: Harry and Y/N are broken up but still good friends. He worries that he’s holding her back from moving on and finding love again, so he tries to distance himself from her. But Y/N is too sweet and people are too dumb to treat her right. Stuck between his fear of hurting her and his desire to give her the love he knows she deserves, Harry finds himself in a difficult predicament.

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: some kink-shaming, mention of cheating, angst, smut (dom!harry, bondage, choking, spanking, degradation, orgasm denial, teasing)

A/N: This fic was inspired by two songs by The Weeknd: Hardest to Love and Scared to Live. Also, Y/N is bisexual in this one—just mentioning this for anyone looking for bi!Y/N fics :)

***

Harry hasn’t been good to Y/N.

The awful realization dawns on him while he’s sitting in a cafe with her one afternoon along with their two friends, Elena and Jordan. Well, actually, they’re more Y/N’s friends than his. He met them through her and only hangs out with them when she’s around. He may not have much in common with them, but whenever Y/N invites him to hang out, he always says yes because how could he turn down an invitation to spend time with her?

At least after Elena and Jordan leave, he gets to have her to himself. Not today though. Today, Y/N announces prematurely that she has to head home. Harry’s shoulders sag in disappointment.

“Whyyy?” he whines, resting his chin on his ring-adorned hand. “What could possibly be more important than spending time with your mates?”

She smiles. “I have a date tonight.”

Her three friends eye her with curiosity.

“Ooo, is it that guy from Tinder you’ve been seeing?” asks Elena.

“Yes, but don’t get too excited. I’m ending it with him.”

“What? Why?” they all ask, almost in unison.

She shrugs vaguely. “I realized he’s not my type.”

Elena snorts. “You say that about everyone you date. What even is your type?”

“Him,” says Jordan, pointing at Harry, who just chuckles.

Y/N’s cheeks flush. “I just haven’t found the right person! Leave me alone.” Her phone vibrates on the table. She checks it. “Oh, it’s him. He’s asking if our date is still on.”

“Poor guy,” says Jordan. “He’s got no idea he’s about to get his heart ripped to shreds tonight.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Please. You’re acting like he’s in love with me. We’ve been on two dates.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty easy to fall in love with,” says Harry, smirking at her.

Her cheeks turn even more pink as she attempts to bite back a grin. “Okay, I have to go.” Rising to her feet, she grabs her phone and pulls her bag over her shoulder. “See you guys!”

“Good luck tonight, heartbreaker!” Jordan shouts after her as she walks away.

“I can’t with this girl.” Elena shakes her head. “I thought I was picky with dating.”

“She wasn’t always that picky. It was only after Mr. Grammy Award-Winner over here came along,” says Jordan, nodding his head towards Harry.

The comment elicits an awkward laugh from him. “What do you mean?”

The two friends exchange looks. Harry hates when they do that; he always feels left out of the joke.

“You do know that you’re the reason Y/N keeps turning down all the people she dates, right?” Elena says, as if it should be blatantly obvious to him. “She’s still not over you.”

He scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve been broken up for eight months. She’s been seeing new people for four of them. Don’t reckon she’d be doing that if she wasn’t over me.”

“It literally could not be more obvious,” says Jordan. “She goes on dates with people, then she hangs out with you for five minutes, and oh, all of a sudden, those people are no longer good enough for her?”

Shaking his head, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Elena sighs and tucks a strand of her pink-dyed hair behind her ear. “Look, ever since you told her that you’d be willing to get back together with her when the time feels right, she’s decided—either consciously or subconsciously—not to give anyone else a chance. It doesn’t help that every time the two of you are spotted anywhere, Twitter acts like you’re back together again.”

“Y/N doesn’t even use Twitter,” he says, purposely deflecting now.

“You know that’s not my point.”

“So, what then?” He throws his hands up in defeat. “What am I meant to do? Stop spending time with her?”

“That, or you can just tell her you’re not open to being romantically involved with her again,” Elena suggests. “Until you say something, she’s never going to move on.”

He won’t admit it to them, but he knows they’re right. He too has noticed Y/N’s pattern of going on a couple dates with someone, then conjuring up some excuse for why she can’t envision a future with them. Everything from “he’s a snorer” to “she thinks bald cats are ugly” to “he uses too many exclamation marks in his texts.” And Harry is guilty of enabling this behaviour by telling her that it makes total sense to turn someone down for such trivial reasons.

Truth be told, he likes watching these other people try and fail to win her heart. It gives him a sick sort of satisfaction to know that for her, no one compares to him. But he recognizes the deep selfishness of these feelings, and it’s something he doesn’t like very much about himself.

Harry and Y/N’s relationship has been complicated from the start. They met at a wedding. Harry was fresh out of a year-long relationship, and in no way, shape, or form was he ready to jump into another one just yet. But how was he supposed to resist Y/N, who looked like a fairy in her pretty floral dress and had a voice sweeter than honey and blushed whenever anyone said anything remotely nice about her and made him laugh harder than he’d laughed in weeks, maybe even months?

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t resist. So, he pursued her until she fell for him hard. And he fell for her too. And they had the most magical three months together, attached at the hip whenever possible and constantly texting each other when not. But the spark began to fizzle out once Harry realized, and Y/N did too, that he hadn’t completely moved on from his ex.

Y/N was so understanding, albeit heartbroken.

Harry went off to Japan for a few weeks to focus on himself and his music. She was on his mind the entire time, so much so that his ex began to feel like a distant memory from another lifetime. On his first night back from Japan, he called her. And it was as if nothing had changed between them; they picked up right where they’d left off.

Over the next couple years, their relationship was a turbulent cycle of breaking up and getting back together, rinse and repeat. It was almost always Harry who would get cold feet and call it off when things began getting too serious—a habit he’d developed after getting his own heart broken too many times.

He could see the effect that this back-and-forth was having on Y/N, how it was wearing her down and sucking the liveliness out of her. He didn’t want to cause her any further pain, but he didn’t want to completely lose her either.

When they broke up for the last time, he told her that maybe now just wasn’t the right time for them to be together. They could still remain friends, and perhaps in the future, if the time ever felt right, they could try again.

He knows that Elena’s suggestion of telling Y/N that he’s not romantically interested in her anymore is the most sensible thing to do. However, he can’t find it in himself to do that. Instead, he decides to create a bit of distance between him and Y/N, hoping that it’ll be enough to help her move on from him.

Only time will tell if his plan works.

***

Y/N is pissed off. She doesn’t get angry very often, so when she does get like this, she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

Last night, she invited a few close friends over to celebrate her recent promotion at work. While Harry initially promised that he would be there, he texted her last minute that he couldn’t make it because he wasn’t feeling well.

This morning, as she was scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a picture taken by a fan of him leaving a pub last night with his friend Ben. He appeared perfectly fine and healthy, making it abundantly clear that what he’d told her was a lie. This isn’t the first time he’s cancelled on her in the past few weeks. She just assumed it’s because he’s been super busy with work, but now she feels stupid and naive for thinking so.

The discovery of Harry’s lie made her so upset that she got dressed that morning and drove straight to his house to confront him. Now, as she stands on his porch, waiting for him to answer the door, a sudden sense of self-awareness comes over her.

She’s never been a confrontational person. Showing up on someone’s doorstep unannounced to go off on them isn’t like her at all. She hasn’t even thought about what she’s going to say.

Just as she’s considering turning around and sprinting back to her car, the door opens to reveal a freshly awoken Harry, dressed in the fluffy lavender robe that she always loves seeing him in because he looks extremely soft and cuddly when he wears it, like a big, purple teddy bear. She has to resist the urge to squeeze him in her arms.

“Y/N, hi,” he says, brows perked in surprise. “Wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I just came to check up on you and see how you’re feeling.” She forces a smile and observes his reaction closely.

At first, he just stares at her blankly. Then it suddenly hits him, his eyes going wide as saucers. “Oh! Right, yeah, I’m, uh, I’m feeling much better. Thank you.”

Liar.

Y/N’s lip almost quivers from watching him lie straight to her face, but she maintains her composure.

“Must’ve been pretty bad, huh?” she asks. “Since you had to cancel so last minute.”

He looks down and fidgets with a loose thread on his robe. “Yeah, I wasn’t in the best state. Threw up three times.”

Her brows arch up, feigning surprise. “Three times! Wow! And you still had the energy to meet Ben at a pub on the other side of town?”

His face falls.

Y/N drops her facade now, letting her true emotion show. “You know, if you didn’t want to hang out with me, you should’ve just said so. There was no need to lie.”

“It’s not that. I love hanging out with you... Probably more than anyone else I know.”

“Then why did you lie? And why have you been so distant?”

He looks past her shoulder. Since she got here, a light drizzle has started, tiny droplets pattering softly against the ground.

“Let’s talk inside,” he says.

A stubborn part of her wants to keep her feet firmly planted on his porch, but it’s cold out here and the warm interior of his house does look incredibly inviting right now. She steps inside, taking off her shoes on the mat before marching into the kitchen.

He shuts the door and joins her there. “Do you want to sit?”

“No.” She leans against the edge of the kitchen counter and crosses her arms. He stands across from her, his hands resting behind him on the kitchen island.

She can’t help it. She has to say it, “It’s not fair, you know. I’ve always supported you and been there to celebrate your successes. I know getting a promotion at work isn’t nearly as exciting as getting a Grammy nomination, but still—”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t put down your accomplishments like that.”

She shrugs.

“I’m sorry I lied. And I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I just...” He hesitates. “I feel like I’ve been holding you back.”

Her brows furrow. “Holding me back from what?”

“From moving on. From falling in love again. I feel like the more time we spend together, the more you struggle to connect with the people you go out with. When we broke up, I told you that I’d be willing to get back together when the time felt right, and I said that because I still wanted you to myself, even if I didn’t want to commit to an actual relationship. And I realize now how shitty that was.” He sighs and stares down at the floor, seeming ashamed with himself. “I don’t want to sabotage your chances at finding love. Don’t want to be that guy.”

His explanation takes a minute to sink in and wrap her head around.

“So, wait,” she says, “you think I haven’t fallen in love with someone yet because I’m still hung up on you?” She laughs a little. “C’mon, H, that’s a tiny bit egotistic, don’t you think?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. But Elena and Jordan think so as well.”

She scoffs. “Oh, so now the three of you are, like, the committee of experts on my love life? What, do you meet once a week to discuss all the reasons why my love life is a flop?”

He blinks at her slowly. “Y/N...”

“No, no, this is stupid.” She uncrosses her arms, clutching the counter behind her instead. “You are not the reason that I can’t fall in love. You’re... You’re...” She finds herself grasping for some way to convince him that his whole theory is absurd, but suddenly, she’s not even sure if it is. In the end, all she’s able to say is, “You’re my best friend.”

His green eyes soften. “And you’re mine. But maybe...” He winces, like he knows the next part is going to hurt her. “Maybe, staying friends after the breakup was a bad idea.”

This feels like a punch in the gut. It’s like experiencing their breakup all over again, except worse because the pain of losing a best friend is somehow more visceral, more agonizing than losing a romantic partner.

“You don’t mean that,” she says brokenly.

“I’m just saying that we should try spending some time apart and see how that works for us. If nothing changes, fine... But if something does, then maybe it’s for the best?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

He says nothing to reaffirm her statement, making her doubt for a moment that this is really what he wants, but then she snaps herself out of it. No, he has made it clear that he doesn’t want to spend time with her anymore, and she’s not going to chase after someone who obviously doesn’t want her around.

“I should go.”

He follows her to the front door. They both stare out the window at the rain, which has escalated from a light drizzle to a full-on thunderstorm within a matter of minutes.

“It’s pouring out there,” he says. “Do you want to wait until the rain stops?”

“No.”

“Well, do you at least want an umbrella?”

“No, thank you.” She’s being stubborn, but she doesn’t want to be around him any longer than she has to. After slipping on her sneakers, she steps out onto his porch and makes a run for it to her car but gets drenched by the time she ducks into the driver’s seat.

***

The next time Harry sees Y/N is three weeks later at a mutual friend’s birthday party. They’ve developed so many mutual friends over the years of knowing each other that they’re bound to cross paths at one point or another.

She arrives at the party a little while after him, accompanied by Elena. Her sleeveless maroon dress hugs her curves perfectly and brings out the natural pink tint of her cheeks. Her hair is shorter too, he notices. He tries not to stare when she walks in, but it’s hard not to. They make eye contact from across the room. She looks away before he can lift a hand to wave hello.

For the entire evening, every time he enters a conversation that Y/N is also a part of, she discreetly withdraws. Any time he even comes close to her vicinity, she drifts further away from him. It’s frustrating. But he probably deserves it after how poorly he handled things with her. Lying to her instead of just having a candid conversation about his concerns.

While he’s receiving the cold shoulder from her, Elena appears to be receiving quite the opposite treatment. Y/N sticks by her side the whole night, holding hands or linking arms with her, sharing longing glances, blushing whenever Elena speaks directly to her. He suspects there’s something going on there, but he can’t be sure. There is one person at the party, however, who might be able to give him the answers he seeks.

“Hi, Jordan,” says Harry, walking up to the short, dark-haired man who was oddly standing by himself in one corner, staring down at the phone in his hands.

Jordan glances up at him for a quick second. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“Not much. You?”

“Just sexting with this hot older guy I met last week,” he replies casually, his thumbs flying across the tiny keyboard on the screen.

“Oh. Nice,” says Harry. He’s not sure how to bring up the topic subtly, so he decides to forgo subtlety altogether. “So, um, Y/N and Elena...”

“I’m as shocked as you are.” Jordan laughs. “Who would’ve thunk those two would ever hook up?”

“Are they serious or...?”

“Depends who you ask.” Jordan glances up again and registers the confusion on Harry’s face. He elaborates, “If you ask Y/N, she’ll tell you they’re serious. If you ask Elena, she’ll tell you it’s still early days and too soon to say.”

“Huh.” He looks in Y/N’s direction again. This time, she’s resting her head on Elena’s shoulder, listening intently to whatever conversation was happening around her.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” Jordan suddenly says.

Harry whips his head back around. “What?”

“The guy I’m sexting. He just sent me a video of him putting his dick in a—”

Raising a hand, Harry says, “You know what? I don’t think I want to know.”

Later that night, everyone gathers around to sing happy birthday to the birthday girl and watch her blow out the candles on her huge, extravagant cake. Afterwards, as the crowd disperses around the house again, Harry loses sight of Y/N. He decides it’s for the best since he’s spent most of the night watching her from afar instead of enjoying the party and mingling with friends he doesn’t see very often due to his busy schedule.

From that point onward, he tries to be more present in his conversations with people.

When he breaks away to find the bathroom a bit later, he passes by a room that looks like a den. The door is slightly ajar, enough to make out Elena sitting on a couch with a few other people. Y/N is nowhere to be seen, though she could be in some part of the room that isn’t visible from where he’s standing. But as he listens in to their conversation, it quickly becomes clear that she’s not in the room with them.

“Where’s your shadow?” asks one of the other girls sitting with Elena.

“Who?” she says.

“Y/N. She’s been following you around like a lost puppy all evening.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t know where she went, actually.” Elena looks around vaguely.

Harry steps away from the door before she can see him. He leans against the wall next to the doorway, taking out his phone so that if someone catches him standing there, he can pretend he’s just messing around on his phone.

“The two of you are a couple then?” asks the other girl.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” replies Elena. “We’ve just hooked up a few times.”

A male voice chimes in, “What’s she like? In bed, I mean. I’ve always wanted to know, but she was always with that Watermelon Sugar guy.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that.

“She’s kind of a freak, actually,” Elena speaks in a hushed voice, like she’s revealing a scandalous secret.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. She’s into that choking, slapping, getting tied up, being called names type of shit.”

Harry rolls his eyes once again. These must be the most vanilla people ever if they think liking a bit of bondage and degradation makes someone a “freak.” Most of the people he’s been with were into things like that, not just Y/N.

“Damn,” says the male voice. “It’s always the sweet, innocent-looking ones.”

“Yeah,” says Elena. “It’s kind of weird, but I just go with it. At least I can laugh about it later.”

A grimace has settled onto Harry’s face after hearing their conversation. He doesn’t appreciate the way they talk about Y/N, as if she’s some sort of anomaly or a sex object. He knows all too well what it’s like to have your sex life dissected and gossiped about by people who don’t even know you.

It especially irks him when he remembers how insecure Y/N used to be about her kinks when he first met her. It took her some time to open up to him about what she liked in bed because before they met, she’d never had the chance to explore her deepest desires and fantasies in a safe space with someone who made her feel comfortable. He’s grateful that he was able to give her that.

Now, he leaves to go find the bathroom again, but when he gets there, it’s already occupied. He heads upstairs to find another one. The music from the party fades as he ascends the staircase. It’s mostly dark up there, except for the warm white light spilling out of a room down the hall. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s the other bathroom and, of course, someone is inside this one too.

He groans internally until he reaches the open doorway and realizes that the person inside is Y/N. She’s standing in front of the sink, fixing her hair in the mirror. Her gaze shifts to Harry as he appears in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Oh, sorry, do you need the bathroom? I was just leaving.” She starts to exit, but he steps in the middle of the doorway, blocking her path.

“You’re avoiding me.”

She meets his eyes reluctantly. “Well, I didn’t know if I was allowed to talk to you or not.”

He frowns. “What? Of course you are.”

“Just wondering, you know, because we’re not supposed to be spending time together anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t talk if we see each other at a party, Y/N.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?!” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “These rules are confusing.”

His eyes wander over her face, taking in her pretty features. “They are confusing,” he agrees, pausing before adding, “and stupid.”

“Oh, so now you admit it.” A playful grin dances on her lips, making him chuckle.

Lifting up a hand, he takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and twirls it around, examining its length. He notices her breathing stop for a moment.

“You cut your hair,” he states.

“Yeah.”

“Looks nice. Pretty.”

She blushes. “Thanks.”

He releases the strand of hair and watches it bounce back into place. Then he reaches up and brushes his fingers against her cheek. She leans into his touch, almost on instinct. His gaze rests on her lips now—so red and full and tempting. He begins inching towards them, but at the last moment, she pulls away.

“H,” she whispers, “we can’t. I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” he asks, even though he already knows what she’s about to say.

“Yeah. Elena. We’ve been seeing each other.”

“Oh,” he says. And he tries to control himself. He really tries to stop the words from leaving his mouth, but they come out anyway, “Y/N, I don’t think she’s right for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t think Elena’s a nice person.”

She frowns. “Where is this coming from?”

He doesn’t want to tell her about the conversation he overheard earlier. It would only hurt her. “I just think you deserve better.”

Her eyes narrow. “And what exactly is ‘better’? You?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Harry?”

He can sense her losing her patience with him. Y/N, who normally has the patience of a saint and puts up with a lot more than most people would, is done with his shit.

“Because you told me that you were worried about holding me back from moving on and finding love again. But now that I’m with someone new, you’re telling me that I’m with the wrong person? It’s just— It’s not making sense. You say that you don’t want to hold me back, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Her words pierce through his heart. “You’re right... It doesn’t make any sense. And I’m sorry. But I stand by what I said about Elena. She doesn’t have your best interests at heart, lovie. She doesn’t deserve you. Neither do I.”

She stares at him for one long moment, a tenderness flashing in her eyes for the briefest second before she looks away. “I can’t do this.” She squeezes past him to leave the bathroom.

“Y/N—”

“Bye, Harry.”

***

Settling in bed with a book in his hands, a cup of chamomile tea on the nightstand next to his phone and his songwriting notebook, which is always there in case a lyric idea pops up in his head while he reads. This is how Harry spends most of his nights lately. It’s a soothing ritual to come home to after a long day.

The only thing missing is having someone in bed next to him. Someone to read with or read to. Someone to kiss goodnight. Someone to hold as he drifts off to dreamland.

Ever since his breakup with Y/N, he has been taking the time to figure himself out, to really look inward and, with the help of his therapist, work on some deep-rooted bad habits that he seems to carry from one relationship to the next. He’s never been good at being alone, which explains why he has a propensity to dive into a new relationship before he’s even moved on from the last.

He regrets rushing things with Y/N. If he’d just taken the time to get to know her and properly befriend her before taking the next step, things might have panned out differently. He truly believes that.

A yawn pulls itself from him as sleep begins to fog his brain. He places his book on the nightstand. Before he can turn the lights out, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Y/N.

He picks up. “Hello?”

He doesn’t receive an instant response. All he can hear is the beat of some techno song in the background and the muffled sound of female voices. He wonders if she just butt-dialed him by accident.

“Hellooo?”

This time, he hears her say on the other end, “You were right.”

Puzzled, he replies, “What?”

“You were right about Elena. She’s not a nice person.”

She doesn’t elaborate any further, but he can infer from the hollowness in her voice that Elena broke her heart.

“I just called to tell you you were right,” she says. “You can feel all smug now and say ‘I told you so.’”

“You think I’m that much of an arsehole?”

She sighs and mumbles, “No.” He hears her sniffle. “I just don’t get why everyone treats me like I’m some toy they can play with and throw out when they get bored. Am I that easy to discard? Or maybe I’m just hard to love.”

“No. You’re not.” If anything, that’s me, he thinks to himself.

“Then why does this keep happening to me?” She sounds so defeated, it makes his chest physically ache.

“Because, Y/N, people are stupid—and I’m including myself in that statement—and they don’t realize what they’ve got until they lose it. By the time they realize it, it’s far too late.”

She goes quiet. He can hear the music thumping in the background again.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“In the bathroom of a club.”

He quirks a brow. “What are you doing at a club? You don’t even like clubs.” He recalls her telling him once that she hates being surrounded by all the sweaty bodies bumping into each other.

“Jordan dragged me here. Said the best way to get over a heartbreak is to go to a club and find a stranger to hook up with. But he ditched me as soon as we got here, so I thought I would just drink and dance away my sorrows, but then some creep tried to grope me on the dancefloor and I wanted to throw up and now I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. His frustration isn’t directed at her but at Jordan for giving her such terrible advice and then abandoning her in such a vulnerable state. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

“Wh— You’re coming here? You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m doing it.”

He gets the name of the club from her and tells her he’ll text her once he’s there. Climbing out of bed, he quickly throws on some clothes and heads out to his car.

He’s prepared to go into the club to retrieve her when he gets there, but she’s already standing outside by the curb, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She has on a flimsy jacket, far too thin to block out the cool night air. As soon as he pulls up, she climbs into the passenger seat, finding refuge from the cold.

“You all right?” he asks, studying her intently.

She nods. “You know, you really didn’t have to come all the way—”

“Hush. Put your seatbelt on.”

She raises her eyebrows at his authoritative tone. “Yes, sirrr.”

He feels something stir inside him when she says that but quickly squashes the feeling and starts driving.

“Do you want me to take you to your flat?” he asks.

“Ugh, no. Jordan’s going to come home with some guy in the middle of the night and wake me up with obnoxiously loud sex noises.”

He nods once. “Okay then. My place, it is.”

When they reach his house, he prepares one of the guest bedrooms for her to sleep in while she uses the bathroom. By the time she comes out, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for her. She sits down next to him. As he turns to look at her, he catches her staring directly at his mouth.

“Kiss me,” she says.

“You’re drunk.”

“Just one kiss. Please?”

He rolls his eyes and gives her a peck on the lips, forcing himself to pull back before he gets carried away. “Happy?”

“No, I want more,” she says, leaning forward.

He smirks and squeezes her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Greedy girl.” He releases her chin. “Go to sleep.”

She complies and gets under the covers. Staring up at him with her sweet, tired eyes, she says, “Thank you. For taking care of me.”

He shrugs. “I like taking care of you.”

He gets up then and leaves the room, shutting off the lights as he goes.

***

Y/N wakes up with a miserable headache compounded by a deep embarrassment over her actions from the previous night. Calling up Harry just to whine about her pitiful love life, prompting him to come rescue her drunk ass from the club, begging him to kiss her...

She wants the ground to swallow her whole.

Eventually, she drags herself out of bed and into the bathroom. After cleaning herself up, she heads down to the kitchen, where Harry is sitting at the island in his purple robe, having his morning coffee. The sight is all too familiar to her; she used to wake up to this on a regular basis when they were still together.

“Morning,” he greets her as she walks in, avoiding his gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungover.”

She fills up a glass with cold water and savours the feeling of it pouring down her parched throat. Finally, she turns around and forces herself to look at him.

“Sorry about last night,” she states. “I was, um, a bit of a mess.”

He gives her a kind smile. “It’s all right. You don’t need to apologize. Honestly, it made me quite happy to see your name pop up on my screen when you called.”

Her heart swells. “Really?”

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee to hide the timidness in his expression.

A smile spreads across her face. “Well, okay, that makes me feel better.”

He gazes at her for a while, like he’s carefully contemplating his next words. “So... You were upset last night and I didn’t want to ask, but... What did happen with Elena?”

Her eyes drop down to the floor at his question.

Noticing her reaction, he quickly says, “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine.” She looks up at him again. “I found out she was sleeping with someone else. I caught her texting this other person while we were in bed, cuddling. She thought I was asleep.” A bitter laugh escapes her at the idiocy of it all.

Harry’s eyes turn sympathetic. “Jesus. That’s awful.”

“Yeah... So, hey, you may have broken my heart, but at least you can say you never cheated on me!”

“I mean, that bar’s pretty low.”

“Oh, the bar is fucking underground at this point.”

He laughs. She grins. Then he stands up and walks around the island to her, pulling her into a tight hug, which she happily reciprocates.

“I’m sorry people suck,” he says, resting his chin on her head. “I’m sorry I suck.”

She frowns. “You don’t suck.”

“Yes, I do. All I’ve done is break your heart. Over and over again.”

She pulls away to get a proper look at him, noting the guilt in his eyes. “That’s not true. You’ve been an amazing friend to me.”

He smiles sadly. “I don’t know about that.”

“Harry...” It concerns her that he’s being so hard on himself. He really has been a wonderful friend to her. Despite all the hardships they experienced during their relationship, he has been there for her more than anyone else in her life. To hear him fail to recognize that makes her sad.

“I want to be a better friend. I think I can do that. If you’ll give me a chance.”

“Of course.”

“I can even be your wingman if you need me to be.”

She laughs and makes a face. “My wingman?”

“Sure, why not?” He gives a casual shrug, as if the concept of her ex-boyfriend, whom she’s still undeniably attracted to, being her wingman isn’t weird as hell.

“Thanks for the kind offer, but I’m actually putting the brakes on dating for a while.”

“Oh, okay.”

She hugs him again, content to have him in her arms, content that she can finally go back to hanging out with her best friend again.

***

“I think we should watch the new season of The Crown tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes widen with excitement. “Oooh, yes! I’ve been dying to watch that.”

“We could order pizza as well. From that new place I told you about. You need to try it.”

“Absolutely.”

They’re sitting in their little corner of the cafe. Y/N finished work a while ago and headed there to meet up with Harry, who was coming from a writing session at the studio. Now, as they discuss their plans to wind down for the evening, something—or someone—catches Y/N’s attention from across the cafe.

“Oh, fuck my life,” she mutters.

“What’s wrong?” asks Harry, as he follows her gaze over his shoulder.

“I just realized Elena’s here. With her new girlfriend. They’re sitting over by the window.”

“Oh.” He turns back to Y/N. “Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere else.”

She replies with an adamant shake of the head. “Nope. This is our favourite cafe too. Why should we have to go?”

Suddenly, Elena’s gaze shifts over to her and they make eye contact. Without reacting, Y/N returns her attention to Harry. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Elena standing up and walking over to them.

“Oh, great, she’s coming over here,” she says with an agitated sigh.

Harry squeezes her hand on the table reassuringly. “It’s okay. You’ve got this.”

“Y/N,” says Elena, once she reaches their table.

“Elena,” says Y/N.

“Harry,” says Elena.

“Elena,” says Harry.

A long, awkward pause follows.

Unable to endure the awkwardness any further, Y/N breaks the silence, “How are you?”

“I’m all right. You?”

“I’m fine.”

Another pause. Elena turns to Harry.

“So, the reason I came over here is because my girlfriend, who’s sat over there”—she points over to the table she just came from—“happens to be a massive fan of yours, Harry, and she was hoping she could get a picture with you. I told her that we’re friends and I would ask for her.”

It takes everything in Y/N to resist the urge to roll her eyes dramatically. The nerve of this woman to cheat on her, then come over here to ask Harry—whom she only knows through Y/N—to take a picture with the same person that she cheated with! Truly mindboggling. Not to mention, it puts Harry in a very awkward position.

He looks at Y/N unsurely, waiting for a cue from her before deciding how to respond. “Uh...”

She gives him a small nod.

“Sure,” he says to Elena.

He stands up and follows her to the table where Elena’s girlfriend is eyeing him with a frozen, starstruck look on her face. He chats with her for a minute, then poses for a selfie before walking back over to Y/N.

“That was quick,” she says.

He shrugs. “She was more interested in getting a photo than talking. I asked her not to post it until later though, once we’re gone.”

Now that the uncomfortable encounter is over, they return to their conversation from earlier, debating what else to get with their pizza tonight.

Some time later, long after Elena and her girlfriend have left the cafe, Y/N notices a group of young people lurking outside the entrance, trying to peer in through the glass door. It’s getting dark out, but she has seen, and worn, Harry’s merch enough times to recognize it on someone else even in the dark from a distance.

“Uh-oh,” she says.

“What?” Harry looks at her. With his back to the entrance, he has no idea what’s happening.

“I think I see fans outside. Elena’s girlfriend must’ve posted the picture already.”

He throws up a hand and lets it fall on the table. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N takes out her phone to check, and surely enough, the picture is all over social media. The cafe logo can be seen on a sign in the background. “Yup, she posted it on Instagram and now it’s making rounds. This place is going to get crowded real fast if we don’t leave soon.”

“Would it be bad if we snuck out the back? I’m just not in the mood to deal with this.”

“Yeah, we can do that. I’m sure Theo would let us use the back exit.”

Theo is the owner of the cafe, whom Harry and Y/N have befriended over the years.

Harry scoots his chair back to stand up, then stops and looks at her with a conflicted expression. “I feel bad.”

She leans forward and locks eyes with him. “H, people can’t expect you to be on all the time, ready to interact and take pictures with them whenever they want. You’re a human being, not a tourist attraction.”

“I know, I know.” He bites his lip and sighs. “Okay, let’s go.”

They stand up, grab their jackets, and find Theo, who doesn’t even hesitate to help them sneak out the back exit into the empty alleyway behind the cafe. Once outside, they stop to put on their jackets. Y/N shivers as a cold breeze passes by.

“Holy crap. How did it get so cold?” she mutters through chattering teeth.

“You need a better jacket. This thing is paper thin.” Harry pinches the arm of her jacket to prove his point.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, mom. It’s not that thin.”

“Here, put this on.” He hands her his thick, green jacket, but she pushes it away.

“No! Then you’ll get cold.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Nope.”

He glares at her. “Y/N, put it on.”

“Make me.”

His eyebrows raise high on his forehead. “What did you say?”

A devilish grin materializes on her face. “I said... Make me.”

Grabbing her by the waist, he pushes her up against the wall of the cafe. She stares up at him, gasping when she notices the unmistakable lust in his eyes. He leans forward and presses his lips against hers so firmly, so hungrily that it literally takes her breath away. She kisses him back with the same hunger until, all of a sudden, he pulls away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be sorry.”

He releases her waist and takes a step back, a look of dread now replacing the lust from before. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this again. Us being together. It never ends well.” He runs a flustered hand through his curls. “I don’t want to hurt you again. I love you too much for that.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Why are you so convinced that you’ll hurt me again?”

“Because that’s what I do, Y/N. I think I’ve proven that. It’s just who I am.”

“No, it’s not.”

He turns away, but she steps forward and takes his face in her hands, making him look at her again.

“I know who you are. You’re kind and thoughtful and loving, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re also flawed and imperfect and you make mistakes, but who doesn’t? At least you’re trying to be better, which is more than most people can say.”

His eyes never leave hers as she talks, which tells her that her words are actually sinking in.

“I know you’re scared of hurting me again, but I’m not scared. I trust you and I trust that it’ll be different this time.”

“How can you still trust me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because like I said, I know you.”

Like a light switch, Y/N catches the shift in his eyes from fear to hope.

“Now kiss me,” she says. “Properly this time.”

And then she’s back against the wall with his hands squeezing her waist and his mouth claiming hers. No hesitation this time. No internal conflicts. Just pure love and fervor and affection.

He gets even closer, until their fronts are touching, and rubs up against her. She moans, squirming between his body and the wall. Whereas she was cold before, the heat of their passion is enough to warm her up.

He starts speaking in between kisses. “We’re not”—kiss—“having sex”—kiss—“in an alleyway.”

She giggles against his lips. “Okay, then take me home.”

***

Back at Harry’s house, they’ve barely stepped in through the door before he’s pressing her up against it, attaching his lips to her jaw and neck while his hand wanders down the front of her body. His deft fingers unbutton her jeans before sliding inside them. He caresses her clit through her panties.

She tilts her head back, exposing more of her neck for him to kiss and suck on. Her hands weave through his hair. He continues rubbing languid circles into her clit until her panties dampen with her arousal, then stops.

“Nooo,” she whines.

“Shh, just taking you upstairs. C’mon.” He leads her up to his bedroom where he begins stripping off her clothes. He doesn’t remove his own clothes just yet, knowing she likes it this way. Something about being completely exposed and vulnerable while he’s fully clothed is a turn-on for her.

He tells her to lie on the bed while he goes to the closet to grab a couple of silk ties. When he returns, her hand is between her legs. He climbs on top of her and grabs her wrists, sliding them up by her head.

“Can’t leave you alone for two seconds without you touching yourself, hmm?”

She gives him an innocent smile.

“What am I going to do with you?” he says.

“Anything you want.”

His cock twitches in his pants. “Gonna be a good girl and keep your hands above your head?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, still smiling.

He kisses her briefly and gets up to bind her wrists to the bedposts using the silk ties. He has her tug on them a bit to ensure that they’re secure but not overly tight. Then he’s back on the bed, positioning himself between her spread legs, almost drooling at the sight of her dripping wet cunt.

She watches eagerly as he lowers his head between her legs and swipes his tongue over her slit, savouring her intoxicating taste and scent. It occurs to him while he’s sucking on her swollen nub that they haven’t does this in so long and she’s probably been in bed with several other people in that time. The thought makes his fingers dig deeper into her thighs.

“You taste so fucking good,” he comments. “Annoys me to think of all the other people who’ve tasted you.”

“There haven’t been that many.”

“Well, even one is too many for me, so...”

She giggles and squirms as he dips his tongue into her hole. Whenever he draws back to take a breath, her hips automatically buck towards his mouth. He has to hold her down with one hand on her abdomen.

It’s easy to tell when she’s nearing an orgasm from the way her thighs tense and her moans become more frequent, breathing more ragged.

“I’m going to—” she begins.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so,” he warns.

“But I’m so close. Please—”

“Hold it.”

“I can’t!”

Ignoring her pleas, he continues licking at her clit as he pleases until she’s writhing on the bed, slowly coming apart. Her back arches as the orgasm ripples through her body. He waits until she’s done before pinning her with a disapproving look for cumming despite being told not to.

“What?!” she exclaims. “I told you I couldn’t hold it any longer. Not really my fault, is it?”

In a mere second, he’s hovering over her with a hand wrapped firmly around her neck. Her wide eyes stare up at him. He feels her throat bob up and down beneath his palm as she swallows. Her racing pulse can be felt under his fingers.

“What was that?” he asks.

“N—nothing,” she squeaks out.

“That’s what I thought, you greedy little slut.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is so small, barely above a whisper. He can see her sinking into subspace before his eyes. Tied up with his hand around her throat, completely and utterly at his mercy.

“That’s all right, darling,” he says. “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge, but we can fix that.”

He starts untying her wrists. She eyes him curiously but doesn’t dare to speak. He flips her over onto her stomach and reties her wrists.

Leaning down to her ear, he asks, “Do you remember the safeword?” He expects her to have forgotten after all this time, but she proves him wrong.

“Peaches!”

“Good girl.” He plants a soft kiss to her lips, then straightens up again.

He runs a hand through her hair and down her spine before resting on the delicious curve of her bum. He gives it one brief squeeze before lifting his hand in the air, watching her tense as his touch disappears. He allows the anticipation to build before bringing his hand back down in one swift motion. A resounding slap echoes through the room, followed by a grunt of pain from Y/N.

“Count, slut,” he orders.

“O—one.”

He spanks her again, harder this time, and relishes the way her ass bounces from the impact.

“Ah! Fuck. Two.”

The next few arrive in quick succession, causing her to squirm and fight against her restraints in a futile attempt to escape her punishment. He knows she’s enjoying it though because when the next slap lands on her pussy, his hand comes away covered in her juices.

“Look at you, getting off on your punishment. Only whores enjoy getting punished,” he teases.

Y/N presses her reddening face into the pillow and moans. He chuckles at her reaction and delivers a few more slaps directly to her cunt.

Finally, he stands up to undress himself. Then he lifts her hips off the mattress to shove a pillow under them, propping her up into the perfect position for a fucking. His dick is rock-hard at this point. He’s been palming himself through his pants here and there, but only her pussy can give him the relief he needs. He presses himself against her opening, then stops and starts rubbing his tip against her clit instead.

He keeps this up until she grumbles impatiently, “Can you fuck me already? Please and thank you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a smirk, then plows his cock into her.

She inhales sharply. He groans. It takes them both a few moments to process the intensity of her walls stretching around him. He pulls out and pushes back in, his length gliding in and out effortlessly due to her wetness. She tries to grind her hips back into him, though his strong grip keeps her locked in place.

As he brings her to the brink of yet another orgasm, she says, “I need to— I mean, can I please cum?”

He slows the pace of his thrusts. “You came once already, remember? Now you want more?”

“Yesss.” She tries to look over her shoulder at him, and if he could see her big, beautiful eyes, he would probably give in way sooner. “Please, H, I’m sorry for earlier. I really am.”

“Hmmm, I don’t buy it.”

She whimpers in desperation, her hands curling in their restraints.

“I think I should cum inside you and leave you here, unsatisfied, alone, and dripping with my cum.”

Her jaw drops at his evil proposition. “No! God, please don’t do that to me. I’ll do anyth—”

“Shhh, I’m only teasing, sweetheart.” He rubs a soothing hand over her back.

She lets out a sigh of relief.

“You can cum now.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before her pussy is flexing fiercely around his cock, shrouding it in more of her creamy wetness. A few more sharp, sloppy thrusts and he’s cumming inside her too, moaning and repeating her name in his blissful haze.

After pulling out, the first thing he does is remove the pillow from below her hips and untie her wrists. Then he lies down next to her and pulls her into his arms, pressing his lips against her forehead.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he says. Then he draws back to take a good look at her. “Are you all right?”

She gives him a dazed grin. “Oh, I’m amazing.”

He chuckles. “Yes, you are.” Pulling her into his chest, he tells her, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

As they lay there together, he marvels at how lucky he is. Not only to have another chance to be with her, but to have her in his life at all. Y/N is right; things will be different this time. Because this time, he’ll spend less time worrying about getting his own heart broken and more time cherishing hers.

***

Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry #domrry #bisexual!reader #bisexual!y/n #my writing

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strawb3rrysweetheart · 3 months

Note

I saw requests were open so I was wondering if I could get a Lucifer Morningstar x short! reader. (About Vaggie height or shorter) I'll leave it up to you if you wanna do a fallen angel! reader or sinner! reader. Fluff, slowburn if you will!

OKAYY!!!!!! I suck at slowburns I'm sorry

CW: Reader is a painter, lucifer is your muse<3, readers demon form is humanoid, almost doll like. Lucifer wears glasses while making ducks<33. Charlie prefers handmade gifts for her birthday. pining from lucifer turns to mutual pining.

Word count: 1,142 words :3

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻

Ever since you joined the hotel, you had to endure constant teasing. Lucifer was so used to being the short one, and I mean, yeah nifty was shorter, but she's also... nifty. Now that you were the shortest, he couldn't help but tease you. You don't really care, he's not malicious, and he'd stop if it hurt you. Yet it didn't. You had a creative thumb. And with lucifer enjoying to create ducks, you spent a lot of time making things together. Just enjoying each others company, creating things, laughing and smiling. He was one of your closest friends ever since you arrived in hell. When you first got here you were so scared. Charlie helped you, she basically just got you to stay, and I mean you weren't complaining. Now here you were, sitting in lucifers room with him, You were painting a portrait of Charlie and Vaggie, and he was making a new duck. "Try blending a bit of that blue into all your colors to mediate the colors" Lucifer remarks, checking on your painting, noticing your struggle about how the colors don't compliment each other. "Hm, good idea, but I want a more red vibe, and I'm out of red" You hum, annoyed after running out of the color. "Well why didn't you say that?? I could've summoned you red paint." He raises an eyebrow, looking up at you from his duck, his glasses slipping down his nose. You giggle at the way his glasses fall. "Right, how could I forget" You snort, as his glasses slip more, now on the tip of his nose. He shoves some red paint at you, Rolling his eyes at your chuckling. "Oh shut up" He grumbles, before going back to his duck, the resin making a marble effect. "Luci, why do you spend so much time with me? I mean I'm sure you have other friends.." You ask. He pauses what he was doing and hums. "Well, Sure, I do, but you and me support each other, You help me and I help you, and I haven't met anyone else who helps me out as much as you do" He shrugs, Before going back to his duck, most likely it was a gift for Charlie. Which makes sense, I mean so was your painting, Her birthday was coming up, increasingly quickly. Lucifer was making a bunch of ducks, each one a different color from the bisexual flag, and when lined up correctly, they play the song he used to sing to Charlie to help her drift off to sleep. You were making a few paintings of her and Vaggie, and one of the hazbin hotel. It was going to be perfect. Yet part of you was worried she wasn't going to like it. I mean, she's Charlie, She loves every gift. Yet you couldn't shake the feeling. "Lucifer, Be completely honest, does this look like your daughter and Vaggie?." You ask, He glances up. "So like you just took a picture of them and claimed its a painting right? Because thats too real. Though however, Vaggie's features are a bit more pointy" He praises, before adding the tip. You nod. Going back to your work. Sure, it was quiet, but you were just enjoying each others company. His company is extremely peaceful..

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It was Charlie's birthday, lucifer , Vaggie, Alastor, And you help make the cake, Everyone else is decorating, even Rosie came to help. Charlie was out, You weren't exactly sure why, vaggie just worked her magic. Lucifer was currently resting his elbow on your head, teasing you for being short. You feel the urge to kick him, you don't, but you really want to. "Calm down dwarf" Lucifer teases. Dwarf??? "I am not a dwarf. You are the literal devil. Why do you get to mess with me?" You roll your eyes. He scoffs. "Yeah I'm the devil, I could make you worship me, but I don't. Because I'm so nice" He says, his pride slipping into his tone. You roll your eyes. "If you're nice I'm a saint then" You say sarcastically. " Well you can be" Lucifer says, softly "What?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "What?" He replies. You drop it, to lucifers relief. Little did you know, lucifers feelings were slowly growing, yet he'd never admit that?? No! Are you crazy? You were.. you! You had pale white skin, and pitch black eyes. They were gorgeous. Throughout the event, lucifer took notes of every time you two touch. Pinkies grazing, Hips bumping, Arms bumping. Anything and Everything. God he felt pathetic for taking note of all this. You were so focused on making Charlie's birthday perfect, that you didn't notice lucifers not-so-obvious-very-obvious crush. Angel grins as he notices, just shrugging, might as well let it form. Soon Charlie arrives. Her face lights up at everything, she squeals. "AHHHHH OMGOMG I LOVE YOU ALLLL" She whines, starting to tear up from joy. Vaggie comforts her, For the celebrations, everyone gets a drink, Charlie, from husk's encouragement, takes a shot for each 1,000 years she's been alive. (Shes oldd..) After everyone was properly drunk, they all opened presents. Angel gifted her a strap on. Husk gave her wine. Alastor just got her a card. Nifty got her a necklace made of bugs. Rosie got her a new bowtie. Vaggie got her a photobook of all their memories, plus you and lucifers gifts, charlie was crying by the end of it. You all tried to comfort her, but she was sobbing and eating her cake, crying about how she loves you all so much. You chuckle. God you love her. You rest your head on lucifers shoulder while you watch.

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Lucifer's feelings grow larger and larger, and so do yours. You felt he was out of your league, and he felt the same, yet neither of you brought up your feelings. Untill today, you're gonna make a move, you heard lucifer making pancakes in the hotel kitchen, You walk in and smile. "Luci?" Your voice rang his ear. He pauses and smiles. "Hey doll, whats up?" He asks. "Do.. do you wanna model for me for a painting later?" You ask, asking this question feels awkward. He just nods, snorting at your awkward demeanor. "If you wanna date me, just say that" He teases. You don't reply. His cheeks tint red. Maybe you wouldn't say yes or no, but the feelings in that momet got the point across. You don't know how this'll effect your relationship, all you care about is this moment, right now.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻

THIS ISN'T RLLY A SLOWBURN, AND THE ENDING IS LAZY IM SRRY, I AM RLLY BUSY RN SO ITS KINDA RUSHED :(

#fluff #fanfic #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #slow burn #this was rushed #fanfiction

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decadentworld · 2 years

Note

loved the first fanfic! it was delicious!

so um could i request jonathan byers with dacryphilia, praise, maybe even perverted jonathan?

like it's jonathans first time bottoming and he's kind of scared, but he's fantasized about it for a very long time so he's very eager and obedient.

you don't have to write it, of course! whatever you're comfortable with, dude.

take care!

Hey, anon. I went kind of overboard with the ‘pervert Jonathan’ part, because this boy just screams ‘secret pervert’ to me. I hope it’s alright. This one is a lot more light-hearted and a lot less poetic than Rebirth.

Also. I promised myself that requests wouldn’t be as long as my personal works but. Well. Oops.

Vice.

Jonathan’s first time does not go the way he plans it. In fact, it goes a lot better.

※ Sub Bottom Jonathan/Dom Top Male Reader

※ 12,444 words.

※ Anonymous request.

※ Content & warnings: First time bottoming. Dacryphilia. Size difference/Size queen. D/s dynamics. Praise kink. Authority kink. Pervert Jonathan. Hardcore first time. Overstimulation. Un-beta’d.

※ Both characters are 18 or older.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Jonathan’s little secret is at all times kept under lock and key. Several locks, actually. And a combination lock with no less than five numbers for good measure.

There’s this box hidden within his closet, see, which is quite sizable, though it is very discreet and easy to hide in the deepest part of his closet, behind his chest of drawers. It’s black; he knows it’s originally intended as a cash safe, or he supposes, since he didn’t actually buy it. He found it. He swears that’s the word that describes it best: ‘found’ it. What could an open cash safe have been doing just lying around in the junkyard otherwise? He did not steal it. It was open, it was empty, it was happenstance that he needed something to store his ever-growing collection of his more personal things and there was an abandoned cash safe in the junkyard. Simple.

Now, what’s inside this box nowadays? Only he knows as of yet. It’s not something he could just be saying outloud. There are already consequences just for people like Jonathan to simply show his true face in Hawkins, but if anyone unsafe found what he keeps in the box? He would be skinned alive. He would be castrated, for sure.

Which is why he always makes absolutely sure to close it, lock it, and hide it away after he finishes making use of the… erm. Objects inside.

He always does. He never forgets.

After withdrawing from one of the most intense, toe-curling make-out sessions with his boyfriend —his boyfriend. It makes him so fucking giggly to think of that word— as he greeted you into his house, a surprise visit from you, he leads you closer to his bed with a shy hand on yours.

“Just get comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m gonna bring in something to eat.”

“Sure, gorgeous.”

The mental haze he gets after the slight praise is probably one of the reasons why he gets sloppy today.

He walks to the kitchen with a spring in his step. He’s home alone for the moment, something so rare it’s a golden opportunity he won’t waste. God. He feels so bubbly when he’s with you. He opens the fridge as he thinks of this. Jonathan’s never felt like this, like he could turn to mush just by being next to you, like he could start giggling at any given moment just because you talk to him with a voice that rumbles throughout his body, like he could swoon when you press your palm against the back of his head, because he feels like you could engulf him wholly. His break-up with Nancy led him to several realizations, one of which —and he’s sorry, Nancy, but it has to be said— is the one where he found he’s a lot more attracted to men than to women. By, like. A lot. Nancy knew about his bisexuality before, but never commented on it. He doesn’t think she did (or didn’t, rather) out of maliciousness, or awkwardness, or anything like that. Jonathan knows there was just no possible situation in which the topic could be talked about casually, so why bother. He’s absolutely not mad or anything like that. Plus, there’s no point in discussing something like that when they were in a relationship; for no reason would he think about other men, or women, while he had a girlfriend. These thoughts lead to other similar ones as he’s getting some snacks ready in small plastic bowls. He feels kind of bad for not being more open with his family. With Will, especially. He knows the euphoria, the feeling of safeness that Will would get if he knew there was an older queer figure in his life. Sure, Will is not out, but it’s sort of an open secret now. But Jonathan is not that brave. He knows his mom has the tiniest suspicion of Jonathan being at least a little bit queer, what with you coming over more often than not. For college assignments, of course. And everything leads back to you. He bites his lip with a smile on his face as he finishes pouring the contents of a packet into one of the little bowls. Everything about you has him crazy. It’s the fact that you tower over him but still hold him in your arms like he’s delicate, fragile. It’s how you still haven’t made any sexual advances towards him, because you know he’s a virgin in that aspect, and because he told you how very nervous the thought made him. But Jonathan knows you sense something more, and how very right you are without realizing it, that he might be sort of terrified, yet it’s the only thing he can think about these days. It’s even more difficult to focus on anything else when he can only think about you taking him in your big hands, making him —everything about him— look small. Can’t help getting hard in unfortunate situations sometimes, can’t choose which fantasy is best: the one where you take your time with him, treating him gently… or the one where you rip his virginity away, so intensely that he’s crying in the end. He has to calm down before he gets hard. Again. Because he’s already taken the edge off, had an orgasm earlier today. Made use of some of the objects in his—

Wait.

WAIT.

He sprints towards his room leaving the bowls abandoned on the kitchen counter. And there you are.

On his bed. Not having moved at all, of course. How could you? His bed is quite comfy.

You’re sitting on his bed. Looking at the open closet some feet from you. With a scandalized, but pleased expression.

Looking at the open safe on the closet floor.

Jonathan throws himself in front of the closet and closes the door with such force it resounds across his bedroom.

“How much did you see?!”

You look at him, amusedly, pleasantly surprised at this new version of Jonathan you’re seeing. “Um… enough?”

Jonathan covers his burning face and groans. It’s a long and muffled noise. “Oh my Goood,” he mumbles behind his hands.

You can’t help but chuckle a little bit. “Babe… why are you so shaken about this?”

“It’s… you weren’t supposed to see.” Jonathan peeks at you from between his fingers. “It’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“Uh…” You understand where he’s coming from, but, honestly, if he thinks this is the end of the world then he’s sorely mistaken. “It’s… not, really. It’s actually kind of… hot.”

Jonathan lowers his hands so quickly he accidentally slaps the closet door behind him. He gapes at you, so mortified he could melt to the floor. “Wh-What— You don’t— You’re not mad?”

Now you’re frowning in confusion. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well… I kind of… told you I’ve never…” You never thought he could get any more red until now. “And I still… have these things…”

You give him a sort of wolfish smile. He knows you’re trouble when you stand up, slowly walk the few steps to him, and suddenly you’re towering over him.

He gulps. He’s so terrified and excited about what you’re going to say, to do.

You lower a hand to the left side of his waist. He jumps a little bit. “It is hot, Jonathan. Now, feel free to push me off if I’m out of line, but I’m suddenly really, really curious to see more of that.”

He makes a small shrill you find adorable. “Uh— you want to s— how— what did you see, exactly?”

“Well, I saw… some nice-looking ropes.” Jonathan grumbles with embarrassment. “Saw something that looks like…” You leave his waist for a second to use both index fingers to draw something in the air that vaguely resembles a spade. He looks like a fish out of water. “I spotted a shape that looks a lot like something I have, too… if you’d be interesting in comparing.” Jonathan is almost hyperventilating at this point. “But, I think the most interesting one… it was barely peeking, but… the corner of something that I know, Jonathan, I know, is a photo?”

He can’t take it. He hides his face in your chest and whines so loudly it can barely be muffled. You cackle. It’s not a mean sound. You just can’t believe how agitated he’s being about something so normal. So you reassure him.

“It’s normal, Jonathan. It just means you have a healthy way of having fun on your own.”

He grumbles some more. He peeks at you from his spot on your chest. “You think?”

“Yep. And I would absolutely not mind knowing more about it. About your… stash.”

That at least pulls a giggle out of him. “You say it like I’m dealing.” He withdraws.

You caress his chin with a smile. “I am. I would pay only the highest price for this very fine selection.”

Jonathan bites his lip, a small smile in his face. You make him feel so safe, no judgement ever bleeding from your words. “You want to see it?”

You nod, almost enthusiastically, and he laughs. You step back some, giving him some space to open the closet door behind him. He does, and crouches down to retrieve it. Before pulling it out completely, he hesitates. “Um…”

“Yeah?”, you encourage him.

“It’s… if that’s all you saw, then… you didn’t even see half of it?” He says the last part more hushed, like he’s so embarrassed of himself he can’t even speak.

“Oh.” And you sound even more excited now. “Well. You’ll just have to show me all of it, right?”

Jonathan bites his lip and giggles nervously. He pulls the black safe out of his closet and onto the floor of his room.

You give him a muffled laugh. He was right. You didn’t even see half of what he’s got. You skim over the contents, before saying: “Wanna bring this up to the bed so I can see it better?”

He nods. With a strong blush on his face, Jonathan lifts the open box and leaves it on his bed.

The moment of truth is here. You both sit on the mattress, the open safe between you two, its contents perfectly visible. Jonathan is sort of hunched over himself with a hand on his mouth, looking so embarrassed you find it endearing.

You feast on all the objects inside the safe. There’s the things you’ve already seen: red ropes, a metal buttplug, a black silicone dildo, and yes, there are pictures too. Pictures of himself with those ropes around him and nothing more, photographs of parts of his body, a lot more artistic than actually sexual in nature. Close-ups of Jonathan’s cum on the wooden floor. But apart from that, there’s also skin mags. Pocket-sized ones. They’re all gay skin mags. There are also a lot more toys and sexual objects: nipple clamps, anal beads, a small bullet-shaped vibrator, a cock ring, a flogger, a chest harness, a collar with a D ring and matching cuffs for the wrists and ankles —you have to catch your breath at that one. An unlabeled cassette. That one picks your interest a lot. You don’t see any fleshlights or VHS’s. Probably didn’t fit in the safe with how much stuff there is already. Lastly, you see two different tubes of lubricant: a neutral one, and a cherry-flavored one; and a handful of packets of condoms.

His collection is impressive. It’s almost like he collects these things, like he treasures them, keeps them stored away safely only for his eyes and body to feast on whenever he has the time. All in all, you get a rush of something that feels like awe, and lust at the same time.

You finally look at him. He is so red behind his hands, and he’s also shaking a little bit, like he’s so nervous to hear what you have to say about all this.

“Oh, babe. Look at me.” Jonathan complies, looking at you from the spaces between his fingers. “This? This is amazing. Like, wow. You have so much stuff.” You give him a little smirk, about to test the waters. “Have you used all of them already?”

At that, Jonathan can only cover his face completely, muffled laughs hysterical from how awkward he feels, and throws himself back on the bed. At least he’s not outright rejecting you.

A little nod catches your attention.

“That’s so hot, baby.” You softly grab around the edges of the safe and turn it around a bit to see better. Jonathan lowers his hands down to his mouth to be able to see you when he feels the jostle on the bed. “Can you tell me what… this one is?” You point at the cassette.

“Oh my God.” Jonathan looks like he’s biting his nails. He decides to sit up instead. He takes the cassette in his trembling hands and holds it up, the side you saw before facing you and the other one facing Jonathan. “Um…”

“If you want, obviously.”

“U-Um…” He giggles nervously a bit more. That’s good. He’s not actually afraid or uncomfortable, just shy. “It’s… like a narration. The narrator says things that are supposed to… make you feel things.”

It’s so vague, since he’s still pretty mortified about showing you all this, but you think you understand. “Okay. Kind of like… hypnosis?”

“Well… yeah, but not really in the traditional sense.” Jonathan fiddles with the cassette. “It’s just relaxing, but also…” His renewed blush tells you everything you need to know.

“That’s so interesting.” You lean over to examine the small rectangle better, and suddenly spot some handwritten text on the back. “Oh. What does it say?”

Jonathan shrieks. He didn’t mean for you to see that. His hand just accidentally moved until the cassette was no longer parallel to you. “Uhhh…” But, he decides to brave through, because this entire situation is doing something to him. “But… but don’t make fun of me. Please.”

“Of course not!”, you’re quick to say. “Why would I?”

Jonathan bites his lower lip. “Well…” He fidgets a bit, then shakily hands you the cassette over.

You give him a reassuring little smile as you accept the tape. You turn it around. And.

Ah.

Jonathan is full of surprises, isn’t he.

Your eyes go hazy with lust as you read the handwritten two words on the white sticker: Good Boy. You understand a bit better now. You can totally picture what it is: the deep masculine voice of a male narrator giving the listener instructions on what to do, how to touch themselves, what a good boy they’re being for obeying. So Jonathan has the biggest praise kink ever. No big deal. Not at all. Except. It’s all you’ll be able to think about for the rest of your life.

You can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches the back of his head and you give your boyfriend a steamy kiss, right over the open safe, feeling him tremble and whine against you. He opens his mouth in time for you to slip your tongue in and start a sensual caress over his own. Jonathan grabs at your clothes in desperation, squirming in his place on the bed like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You withdraw and look at him. Not only is he sporting the most gorgeous blush ever, but there’s a hint of lust there now, too.

“That’s so fucking hot, Jon. You like being a good boy?”

He suddenly moans against your lips. But then seems to sober up and covers his mouth, ashamed.

You take his hand into yours and move it aside with a little bit of resistance. “None of that, sweetness. Let me hear you.”

He does this little whine and instead lifts his other hand over his mouth, not entirely covering it, just appearing to be chewing on his nails. Even then, he’s gives you a small shaky smile as he shakes his head in shy denial.

“No?” You push only enough to give him a thrill, never to spook him. Your hand that was holding his releases him and goes under his chin. Jonathan puts both hands on his lap as he timidly looks up at you. “I hope I’m not overstepping here, but…”

“N-No, no, you’re not.” Jonathan puts his left hand on the one you have under his chin. “I’m just… this is just kinda new to me.”

You grin at him. “Sweetheart.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the lips. Even that seems to leave him breathless. “I was just saying that… it’d be so hot if you told me more about some of these things. Hm? What do you say?”

He releases a heavy breath that borders on being a moan. He bites his lip, but nods in the end. You release his face and he runs two delicate hands across his hair.

Right when he’s about to speak up, there’s a loud thud coming from the front door of the house.

Jonathan yelps and jumps almost a foot in the air. He immediately closes the lid of the safe box. You’re both frozen in place, you waiting to see if any of his relatives are going to walk in through the front door, and he frozen from fear.

A few more seconds pass, and nothing else happens. Jonathan shakily gets up from the bed, slowly walks to his bedroom door and opens it just a bit. His eyes land on the front door.

The tips of something he knows is newspaper peek from under the slit of the door.

He closes his door with a relieved sigh. “Oh my God. It was just the newspaper delivery. I thought it was going to be my mom.” He runs his hands through his hair with a hysterical giggle.

You laugh too. “Damn. Scared the hell out of me.”

“Me too.”

It seems like this cut off the moment you were having. Jonathan stands awkwardly at the door for some seconds. Then decides to go near the bed again, but doesn’t sit down.

“Um… I’m, like, totally spooked out right now.” But he says it like he’s apologetic about it. Like he doesn’t want this to stop.

You get up with an eager grin. He gives you that nervous little smile, looking at you from under his lashes. “I thought of something right now. That is, if you want, of course.” He nods as he keeps listening. “I thought that maybe… you can show me all of this,” and your hand points in the direction of the closed safe on the bed. “…uninterrupted. As much as you want… at mine?”

He makes a small embarrassed grunt. He covers his mouth to muffle a small giggle. “At your house?”, he asks, so demurely you want to eat him up.

“Yeah. If, of course, that’s okay with you.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer you right away, still looking like he’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. He walks the few steps towards the bed, opens the lid of the safe, and takes something small out of it. Slowly. Nervously.

“Ummm…” He shows you what it is. He speaks almost in a whisper. “Are we… going to need one of these?”

A condom.

Your eyes go half-lidded. The idea that he possibly wants to fuck, even though you haven’t gone past heavy kissing, is exhilarating. You have to collect yourself, since you don’t mean to drive home with an erection.

“Jonathan…” You crowd him against the wall next to his bedroom door. He drops the packet with a breathless moan. You kiss him long and heavy, feeling him squirm against you, feeling his rising heat. You withdraw and give him an intense look. “If you want.”

He moans against your neck. He breathes rapidly against it, trying to calm himself down, and then nods against your skin.

You run your fingers through his hair, on the back of his head. Then you softly grip those same locks to lift his head and have him look at you. “Good.”

It’s so close, a hair’s width kind of close to saying ‘good boy’, but you’re going to save that for later. Even now, he melts against your grip at that single word. Now he puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to focus better. “Okay, but, like… can you just… go and I’ll meet you there. In 20, maybe? I’ll have to call mom first and make up an excuse.”

You chuckle. “Sure.”

Jonathan comes out of the shower fifteen minutes later. He’s still the only person in the house, feeling sure that it wouldn’t be at least another hour until anyone arrived, but it was still the better idea to go to yours.

As he goes back into his room and retrieves the closed safe —this time having hid it behind his set of drawers where he always leaves it, he’s not making that mistake again— he stops when he has it in his hand. A wicked idea comes into his mind. He blushes as he begins unlocking the box.

You open your front door at the twenty minute mark, just as Jonathan said. There he is, all nervous smiles and fidgety hands, even though he clearly hopes it’s subtle. He has the safe box clutched in his right hand.

“Hey,” you greet him as you give him way into your home.

“Hi.” Jonathan tucks his chin into his chest. He’s just so cute to you.

As soon as you close the door, he’s onto you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he kisses you first now. You lean back against the door and hold the sides of his head in your hands. These same hands caress his hair. He melts into you within the kiss.

You pull back and point at the safe in his hand with a wolfish smile. “That looks heavy. Let me give you a hand?”

Jonathan does this little sound that tells you he’s embarrassed, but hands you the box over. He’s putting a lot of trust into you by letting you handle the most private part of his life, so you’re not going to disappoint him.

You take his hand with your free one, which makes him look like he’s melting with shyness, even though you have a literal safe full of his sex toys in your other hand, and guide him towards your room.

The moment you open the door, it seems like it dawns on Jonathan that you’re going to do this. His hand starts trembling in your grip.

You lift his hand until it’s under your mouth. You press a soft kiss on his knuckles, and he looks at you with shaky giddiness. “Still want to do this?”

Jonathan all but latches himself onto you, holding onto your side as his answer. He looks at you from under his lashes, almost like he’s fawning at you. So he’s just nervous but still excited. It’s a small relief, and you will do anything to keep him from toeing that fine line into outright distress. You softly grab his chin and press a small kiss on his lips. After, you guide him further into your room with this same grip, something that makes him give you the softest of giggles.

Once you’re in front of the bed, you gesture for him to get comfortable. Jonathan sits on your bed as you deposit the locked safe onto the mattress with the utmost care.

“I have to… unlock it first,” Jonathan says. He bites his lip to stifle a grin, his face already reddening some.

“Of course!” You turn around and make a show of covering your eyes with your hands.

He outright laughs this time. You hear the tinkle of small keys —he probably had them in his pockets, you muse—, some clacking noises that indicate a padlock opening, then two, and then three, and then soft clicking of tiny number dials being turned. Finally, a louder clack. The lid is open.

“Okay, you can turn around, now,” Jonathan says, amusedly.

You do, and a familiar sight of the many toys and objects inside the box greets you. There’s the things you’ve already seen: the dildo, the mags. Everything else.

Except… maybe…?

You have a fleeting, silly thought. You think, and this is so funny: you think there’s, like… something missing?

Hah. As if. You leave this ridiculous thought aside.

“Okay. Okay!” You sit down on your bed, next to the open safe, similar to the way you were some twenty minutes ago in his house.

He briefly covers his mouth with his hands, like he’s muffling a giggle. Hah. He’s so shy about telling you more, that’s for sure. That’s the only reason why he’s so giddy. Of course. “What… What would you like to know?”

You give him a hungry smirk. “Well… just the basics. You know? Like, what’s your favorite one, or, what’s the one you use the most?”

Jonathan covers his face with his hands for a short time. He looks like he’s biting his nails with one hand when he uses the other one to point at the bullet vibrator. “I… I use this one the most.” And then his hand hovers over the black silicone dildo. “But… I like this one the most.”

You lick your lips. Some conclusions are being drawn with what he’s saying. He likes the vibration, the movement the vibrator causes, because it’s the closest he might have to an unassisted penetration, perhaps? And he loves using the dildo, but doesn’t use it as much, because…?

“Oh. And, if you like this one the most,” you start, while you point at the dildo. “…why don’t you use it as much?”

His lips do a funny thing, like he’s barely containing a hysterical laugh. He exhales, and it comes out like a whine. “Um…” Jonathan runs his hands through his hair, so nervous to say it outloud. “Because… I don’t always have time to prepare enough for it.”

Hm… “Prepare, as in…?”

“Well.” He does start giggling at this point, clapping his hands once like he can’t believe he’s about to say this. You chuckle in sympathy, even though you don’t fully understand. “It’s just… so big.”

Whoa.

What.

“It’s… I need a lot of time… and prep…” He muffles his giggles behind his hands. “‘Cause, otherwise, it just won’t… fit.”

You think your mouth is open, but you can’t know for sure. First of all, you are already feeling a bit hot under the collar. Just Jonathan telling you this has to count as foreplay. Second of all…

The dildo is… well. You estimate it might be five inches at max, four and a half in length if you’re being more realistic. One and a half inches in diameter.

It’s just… it’s so cute that he thinks…

“Wh… What?”, Jonathan says, a bit shaky. “What is… cute?”

Oh, shit. You said that last part outloud, didn’t you. You lean over and peck him on the lips. “Nothing, baby. Nevermind.”

He does a little humming noise, like he’s parsing your implications, but seems to drop it. He goes back to watching over the objects. He bites the tip of his index finger when your hand hovers over the stack of loose photographs. They’re not simple polaroids or anything like that: they’re professional, artistic, developed photographs. You think Jonathan is so brave because of that. The thought that he’d be careful enough to stay in the darkroom for as long as the photos needed to be developed, not letting anyone else in and catch him in the act, is simply so endearing.

“Don’t think I’ve said it before, but these are amazing.” Your fingers hover over the top picture, the most visible one: the one where he’s tied up with the red rope. His arms are free to be able to hold the camera in front of the mirror; his legs are tied up around the thigh and ankle, so that he wouldn’t have been able to stand up. His bare cock is semi-hard in front in the picture. You wonder if he had touched himself beforehand, or if the simple act of being tied-up turns him on. “So hot.”

Jonathan puts a lock of his hair behind his ear. “You can… hold them, if you want. To see them.”

“Yeah?” You do just that. You grab the one you’ve seen before, the one where there’s just a cum splatter on wooden floor. “Bet you had a lot of fun with this one, didn’t you?”

Jonathan just covers his mouth with his hands. He’s so abashed, but he trusts you so much, trusts you enough to show this part of him. “Y-Yeah.”

“Hm. Wait. Is this blood?” You point at the picture in your hand, where there are thick red splatters next to the white ones.

“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s candle wax.”

“Ooh. Candles?”

He nods, shyly. “I ran out of candles, but my subject in this series was to show how suggestible a person might be to some images in terms of eroticism. Like, you just thought this was blood, but it’s actually wax. And you obviously knew this is… well…” He gets giggly for a second because he’s pointing to the white splatters and you know he’s going to say ‘cum’. “…and you were right, but another person might just think both of them are melted candle wax in different colors.”

He’s such a genius.

“And also these ones,” Jonathan continues, pulling out the photographs you’ve seen before, of close-ups of his bare body where only vague shapes could be distinguished. “…these are from the same series.”

“This is… your arm?”, you guess.

He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be vague enough for people to not fully understand what they’re looking at, first. They might just think it’s abstract photography, or maybe just a texture.”

You hum. “These are very good, Jon. You’re a prodigy.”

Your praise has its intended effect. He laughs, abashed, trying to cover his face but always coming back to you. “Thank you,” is his whispered gratitude.

You notice he’s subtly trying to cross his legs on the bed. Hm…

“You know,” you start, nonchalantly, as your hand hover above the cassette, something that has him almost on the edge of his seat. “…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this one.”

God. The look on his face. Jonathan is so red he’s almost suffocating. Just you mentioning the tape leads him to shift on the bed, like he’s getting horny from the sole idea of you listening to it. “Y-Yeah?” It’s a muffled question; his hands are against his mouth.

“Yep,” you answer, so casually, like, yeah, of course I can’t stop thinking about you getting off to a man telling you how good you are. No big deal. “And, to be honest, it gave me quite a few ideas.”

Jonathan lowers his hands to his lap and fidgets with the rim of his sweater. His lips are pursed, like he wants to smile nervously. “Yeah?” It’s a whisper now.

“Yeah. Makes me think of how desperate you have to be to be someone’s good boy, enough to buy something like this.”

He exhales so loudly, so much so that it sounds like the beginning of a moan. At the same time, that simple fidgeting turns into him actually pulling the rim of his sweater down. To cover the small tenting of his pants.

You give him a heated glare to which he withers in lust. Reaching out, you lay a hand under his jaw. “Makes me think you wouldn’t need it anymore. Since you’ll have me here to tell you all those things.”

Jonathan looks wrecked. He closes his eyes, rubs his face against your hand, uses both of his to grab your wrist.

“What do you say?”, you ask, because you need verbal confirmation, even though he’s doing the equivalent of throwing himself at your feet by now.

He nods, so enthusiastically it pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Words, baby.”

He moans out loud. “Yes, Sir.”

He’s your ruin. You can’t do anything other than growl and bring him to your lips with a strong grip on his nape. He’s now moaning into the kiss, so filthily that you can feel it in your bones. You kiss him languidly, but it’s steamy; you all but force his jaw to open with your thumb on his chin and press your tongue into his mouth. The effect is immediate. He invites you in, gives you nervous caresses of his tongue that are wholly eclipsed by the dominion yours has on his. Throughout this time he’s never stopped shifting in his place, close to vibrating out of his skin, if it weren’t for your strong grip on his nape, keeping him in place. Keeping him behaved.

You pull out and he takes a deep breath at once.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Jonathan,” you grunt against his lips. “…but I get the impression that you’ve been wanting this for a long, very long time, if all of this stuff is any indication.” You gesture towards the open safe between you, below you.

He nods quickly in your grip. “Yes! Yes, I can’t— can’t stop thinking about it. About…” He seems to get abashed. “I wouldn’t— mind if—”

“If…?” You give his lower lip a small bite.

Jonathan gasps before resuming. “Like— I know i-it’s my first time in— you know— but, l-like…” He breathes quickly when you kiss the corner of his lips, his cheek, his temple. “…like… I’ve always… had this…”

His red-faced silence urges you to give him encouragement. “This… ‘fantasy’?”

“Oh my God,” and he starts laughing nervously, because you’re right, because you’re so attuned to him he can’t believe it. “Y-Yeah. Well— It’s— Um… Where it— wouldn’t be…”

You hum in interrogation.

“Oh my God are you gonna make me say it.” You chuckle at this rushed mumble of his, and he answers in kind. “Um… I’m trying to say th-that… I wouldn’t mind if— if you weren’t… gentle.”

This is Hell. This is Hell and Heaven in the same place. Does Jonathan have any idea of what he’s unleashed? He’s just basically revealed that he wants you to be rough with him on his first time bottoming. And, for the love of God, isn’t that a vision. This shy, inexperienced —at least in this aspect— boy wants you to have your way with him, like the secret little pervert you’ve found he is, thanks to the safe full of literal sex toys right under you both. This fantasy of his is just so in tune to yours that you want nothing more than to fulfill it.

But.

There’s a problem. A little problem with this.

You kiss him shortly, and walk around the safe until you’re kneeling in front of him, between his legs on the bed. He has to look up from under his lashes. You caress his neck with both hands and he seems to melt against you.

“Babe. You have no idea how much I want that.” Jonathan trembles in your hands. “But… we’re gonna need a lot of lube and prep.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course. I know.” But does he know? You think he’s not exactly aware of how much you’re implying with this, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I just— need to grab. It. The lube.” He reaches to the side and grabs one of the two tubes of lubricant in his safe. The neutral one. “And… well… Just… get prepared.” He starts giggling like he just said something extremely funny, and you can’t help but join in. “But… I need to see what I’m working with, first, i-if you know what I mean.” Jonathan puts as much enticement in his voice and face as he can, even as he stutters his way through it.

This is the part you were worried about. You just don’t know how he’s going to react when he sees it. Even then, you start undoing your pants, slowly, his giddiness beating his nervousness now. “Okay, sweetheart. But maybe you should let me ease you into it—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he rushes to say, putting his own hands on yours, helping you undo the button and flyer with shaking hands. “Sorry I’m so eager. I just… can’t stop thinking about it.” He hooks the fingers of both hands under your underwear and starts pulling down as he keeps rambling. “Like, I’m… sort of dying for it? And you know it since you can see all the things I have here, and I’m always kind of ready, and— w-well, um…”

His voice dies down as your cock is revealed. Here’s the point where he’s completely silent, just staring at it, mouth open as if in wonder. Or maybe horror.

Because the thing about this particular fantasy of his, of wanting to have his virginity just ripped out of him, can’t be entirely possible without a good amount of pain now that he knows how big you are.

“Ah…?” Jonathan stares at it with a terrified smile. Then looks up at you. Gestures at your member with a loose finger, looks at it again. “H-How… Is it r-real?”

You give him a sympathetic half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s— Yeah. It’s very real. Unfortunately.”

Is it bad news that he doesn’t have a giddy comeback for that? Just silence?

“Look, Jon, we don’t have to do this anymore. We can just… I don’t know. Play a bit, if you want. Not do anything at all—”

“No, no, no, no. None of that. I just…” He seems to compose himself a little bit. Exhales a small laugh. “I needed… a second, back there. Sorry for— that. I still— you know. Maybe you’re right.” Jonathan’s hands nervously reach the sides of your cock, not laying on it yet. “We need. A lot of prep.”

You notice his eagerness and take his hands in yours, guiding them until they’re wrapped around your cock.

He exhales so shakily. He can’t even fully close his fingers around your member.

“You sure you want to?”, you have to ask, because he’s just so small compared to you. You’re so afraid of hurting him —in a bad way. In a way he doesn’t want.

He bites his lip as he nods. Then, as his face turns a darker shade of pink, he starts getting the most sly look on his face. You narrow your eyes playfully, attempting to understand what he’s trying to convey. His small hands on your cock rub up and down, slowly, the strokes a bit dry without lube but a nice feel nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say. “Gonna need a lot of lube for this, yeah?”

He nods again. Doesn’t speak, even though he looks like he wants to say something, but keeps it down.

You hum, and narrow your eyes again. “Okay?” You start leaning forwards, almost forcing him to start leaning back until he’s lying on the bed, his hands leaving your cock to aid himself.

He nods once more, this time frantically. He makes a small squeak when he feels the hot imprint of your big cock on his clothed thigh.

“Then…” You kiss him deliberately. His hands grab your shoulders. You withdraw after some few seconds. After you quickly take off his sweater and shirt at the same time, you’re back to lying on top of him fully. “I’m gonna need to see what I’m working with, first, don’t you think?”, you mumble against his lips, echoing what he said first.

Here’s when he starts shifting more in place. He appears to be eager, but holding back for something. Jonathan’s expression is one of heavy anticipation. His breathing is deep, ready for you. Even so, he nods one last time.

You kneel back up and start undoing his pants. Jonathan lies back on his arms, his legs slightly shifting in place. You give him a sly look that pins him in place, makes him so hot under the collar, and begin lowering his boxers just until his cock starts to show. He giggles, nervously, airily, and you can’t help but join in.

He whines in between his soft laughter. “Don’t laugh, okay? I know it’s small.”

He’s so pouty about this that you can’t help but lean forward and steal a short kiss from him. “Now, why would I laugh about that? Like it wouldn’t be one of the hottest things from you.” Your hands finally uncover his hard cock while he’s sputtering at what you’ve just said.

And it is hot. It is hot to you that Jonathan is simply so small compared to you, in every aspect. His cock is just perfect, would fit like a dream in your big hand. So you try just that.

Jonathan flails in the bed when he feels your fist enclosing around his member. He can’t help but thrust up into it repeatedly, all the while crying out at how good it feels.

But you’re mean to him. You use your other hand to hold his hips down, and your strength is too great for him to handle. He realizes he’s fully immobilized when he tries to push his hips up and can’t move even an inch. This sole fact makes him swoon, turns him into mush on your mattress, and he stops trying. Lets you be the one to lead the —slow, agonic— pace of your hand on his cock. It’s a thing of beauty: your hand is big enough to completely envelop his cock. The visual is so powerful that you feel your own throbbing hotly.

“Good boy.”

He moans so desperately this time, because it’s what he’s been dying for all along. It’s the first time you call him that.

“Yeah? You like being a good boy and staying still for me?”

He nods so quickly his hair shifts in place. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” Jonathan seems to realize that he just said this, and covers his mouth with both hands. He looks so abashed.

So you encourage him. “Such a good boy for me, calling me ‘Sir’. Don’t be ashamed now, gorgeous. You did it once already.”

Jonathan seems even more agitated by this. “I did?!”

He’s adorable. You hum in response. “Yes. So don’t get shy on me. Be nice and I’ll give you everything you need.”

His face does something so obscene now. His eyes cross and he lies down completely, moaning like he’s already coming, except he’s not. You’re afraid he might be too close, so you slowly pull your closed fist off him. His moan breaks in the middle of it, and you moan in response, almost mocking him as it ends in a small chuckle.

“Come on. I still need to see what I’ll be working with, yeah?”

It’s like the moment is slightly broken as soon as you say this. He nods, but is quiet now.

You lie on top of him, covering his body with yours, and it seems like he finds the height difference so utterly hot that he can’t help but release a little titter. You smile at him fondly. Now his arms encircle your shoulders, and you meet his lips in the middle, so slowly and softly that he turns into mush. While your left arm goes around his neck, both to hold him and to keep yourself up, your right hand starts the descent down his bare back, teasingly, loving every minuscule writhing it feels as it goes. Calloused fingertips caress his spine, the dimples on his lower back, then go right under his underwear beneath his pants. Jonathan whines as your big hand takes hold of his left cheek, fondling it almost roughly, and the thought is simply too much for him. He pulls off the kiss and hides his face in the crook of your neck, almost sobbing with how much he’s feeling.

Your fingers approach the place you’ve been looking for all this time. Except…

You feel something hard. Something flat and wide where his entrance should be, and you immediately know what it is.

“Jonathan.”

He pulls off your neck just the tiniest bit, only to look at you with a mortified look, as you said it so strongly, almost like you were reprimanding him.

But he’s turning you feral, so you grab his hips to quickly turn him around and have him face down while he yelps. You hold his hips up as he’s too dumbfounded to react yet and pull down his pants and underwear, only down to his thighs and he can do no more than cover his face with his hands.

There’s the metal buttplug in all its glory.

“I knew it! I knew there was something missing in the box!” The visual is so stunning. To know that he’s been wearing this all this time…

Jonathan whines like a kicked puppy. “I-Is it too much? I’m sorry, I thought you would like—”

“Oh, no, no, baby. This is just perfect. Feel.” You lay your hard, throbbing cock on his right asscheek and he makes a sound like he’s drowning. “Can you feel how hard you made me? You’re such a good boy, Jon. Got ready for me without me having to tell you.”

Jonathan moans almost like he’s yelling, then presses his face against the bed.

You lie on top of his back, your chest molding over it. “It means it won’t take too long to fit my cock in you,” you all but growl next to his ear, and he sobs. Your right hand grabs the base of the plug, and even that little thing has him wailing. “You know, I gotta ‘fess up. Some minutes ago I was about to say ‘It’s cute that you think this is big’.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah! I was just as shocked,” you say conversationally as you twist the plug in him, his feet kicking up and down the bed. “I thought, ‘does he really think this is big? Oh boy, what’s he gonna say when he sees my cock?’”

Jonathan’s response is a warbled, unintelligible noise.

“Let me see just how ready you are.” Your fingers start pulling the buttplug out, and he’s wailing and thrashing on the bed as you do. You’re probably the first person to anally stimulate him, and you know just how sensitive the first time can be. “Now, be a good boy and stop moving, yeah?”

His movements halt to a stop, though he’s clearly shaking, like it’s a huge effort for him.

“That’s a good boy. So good, Jonathan. So obedient.”

Jonathan’s response is a wet, “Thank you, Sir.”

“So polite, too. Let me see.” You pull the buttplug out until the widest part is stretching his entrance, something that makes him whimper and have to try even harder to not move. “Hm. This is a good size. Perfect to stretch you just wide enough for your favorite dildo, isn’t it? Tell me.”

The boy under you takes deep, whining breaths, trying to calm himself down, before understanding he’s been given an order. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” You pull the plug out even more, but push it in back, slowly, then back and forward again, creating a short rhythm that has Jonathan scrambling for a grip on the bed. “Let’s see how open you are.”

“Fuck!” Your words have him cursing out in ecstasy, but he then quickly recants. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Oh, Jonny. No need to apologize for that. So fucking hot when you curse.” You take the plug out as he whines, and leave it to the side. He’s stretched open, enough that you think you could fit the dildo, or two, maybe three of your fingers.

Still. Not open enough for you.

Your thumbs open his hole, making him clench around nothing. “You’re a good boy, baby. You did so much already. Can you stay good for me and let me stretch you more?”

“More?!”

You cackle. “Yes, sweetness. This is obviously not enough for my cock. I might hurt you if I fucked you as you are right now.” It seems like either your words alone or the situation in general make his legs stop working. He starts slipping down, almost collapsing on the bed, before you hold him up with your right arm. “Oh, what’s wrong, baby? Too much?”

“N-No— No, sorry, Sir. I’ll be g-good. Please stretch m-me more.”

You give him a low chuckle. “You are being good. Let me help you.” You stretch your left arm and grab the pillow in your bed, folding it in half to double its height. It goes under his hips now. “Lie down on it.” Jonathan obeys, but it’s obvious that he’s now incidentally found a place to rut his leaking cock against, because he moans so brokenly, but stills immediately. You decide to ignore this for the moment. “Better?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

You stretch until your face is near Jonathan’s and you give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Good.”

After this, you kneel up and turn your body around to look through the contents of his safe. Jonathan feels cold without your contact, but stays in his place.

“Will you let me use your favorite one?”, you ask him, pointing at the black dildo in the safe.

He has to turn his head a bit to see you, but bites his lip and nods. It seems like he’s a bit abashed now, because he doesn’t call you ‘Sir’ and rather hides his face in the bed while giggling this time, but this is not a conventional scene, so you don’t tell him off.

You just chuckle in sympathy. “Okay. Do you want me to use your lube?”

He struggles to talk, sounding muffled in the mattress, but then lifts his face up. “Wh-Whatever you find best, Sir.”

“That’s right,” you growl at him, fondling his ass and rubbing at his hole with your thumb. “Leave it to me.”

You take a condom from his safe and leave it to the side, next to the lube that’s already on the bed. Next, you take off your shirt, throw it somewhere around the floor, and start taking off Jonathan’s lower clothes. Once he’s completely bare, you pull off your own remaining ones until you’re both naked.

“Alright. This is what’s gonna happen,” you start, the authority in your voice leaving no place for argument, and Jonathan exhales shakily. “I’m gonna use this dildo in you, just to get you used to the feeling of a real man’s cock.” You rub the tip of the silicone dildo up and down his stretched hole, to which Jonathan whines. “Then, I’m gonna start adding fingers next to the dildo, so I can get you nice and open enough for my cock.” Your free hand fondles his right asscheek. “Then I’m gonna finger you a bit more, just because I feel like it. And then I’m going to fuck you.” Jonathan can’t hold back and moans as he tries to get more of your hand. “Sound good?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes, please, fuck me.”

You chuckle. “Eager.” You hold the dildo up. “You want me to use a condom on this?”

“Yes, please.”

Your face lowers to his ass and you leave a wet kiss on the cheek you were just fondling. “Good boy.” You reach out to grab another spare condom from the safe. You open it and lower it down the dildo. Then, you find the lube and spread it liberally on the sheathed toy. The tip of the tube goes on his ass, and you press on the tube to let some lube out. He flinches from the feel of it, and you chuckle. “Cold?” Jonathan nods, meekly. You close the lube, and leave it to the side for now.

Now, you hold the lubed dildo against his entrance, rubbing it around and softly pressing down to spread the lube.

“Ready?”

Jonathan nods and hides his face in the bed. He grabs the sheets for good measure.

The tip of the dildo goes in without much trouble, since he’s already stretched a good amount, but the way he clenches down repeatedly and moans is just so sinful.

“Oh, God. Sir.”

“Feels good?”

He nods quickly. “C-Can you put more in, please?”

Now you stretch over him and bite his nape. “Of course.” You push the rest of the dildo in him, slowly, but you think you could have done it all at once, since he takes it so nicely. The base of the dildo is flat and wide, easy to maneuver and push fully against his ass. “‘This a suction cup?”

“A-Ah… y-yes, Sir. Somet-times I like r-riding it.”

“That’s so fucking hot, Jonny. Maybe I’ll have you ride me sometime. How’s that sound?” You start pulling the dildo back, and then quickly push it in him.

He moans. “Y-Yes— Sounds s-so good, S-Sir.”

You lick a stripe up his spine to his nape, enjoying the unintelligible blubber he makes and the shiver of his body. “Good.”

You can only thrust in a few couple of times, receiving steamy moans from your boy every time, until he says: “Please! Stretch me m-more, Sir.”

“You want it now? But I was so entertained with this—”

“Please please please please Sir I need it.” His hips push the tiniest bit towards your hand.

“Oh, you got it so bad. Well. I guess I could,” you answer, like it’s a huge effort for you to give him this. Your right hand grabs the lube, opens it, and you expertly pour some on the same fingers that are holding the tube. Then you close it and leave it to the side. You rub your fingers together to spread the liquid better. Your left hand pulls the dildo out just a frame, enough for your right index finger to be able to press on his stretched rim, right under the dildo. “Just relax for me, baby.”

You let him take a deep breath before you start pressing down with force. Your fingertip starts opening his ass more, until it’s down to the first knuckle, then the second, and as Jonathan starts wailing and his feet moving frantically, you manage to fit the entirety of your index finger.

“Take a deep breath. That’s it. Just like that.” You soothe him and he complies. “You’re being so good for me. How does this feel? Hurts?”

“N-No, Sir. Just… different. Good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’m gonna stretch you open so much, gonna make you feel so good on my cock.” He moans so loudly at that. “Only pleasure for you, sweetness. No pain.” You start moving both the dildo and your finger in and almost completely out of him in tandem.

“I— ahhh— I don’t m-mind a bit of—”

“Oh, yeah? You like a little pain? That mean I can fit another finger right now?” Your middle finger teases his rim, and his legs shake.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

So you begin pushing in the second finger, knowing it has to, at the very least, sting a bit, not having let him get used to the first finger yet. This time, it’s a tighter fit. The trembling in his body is almost frenetic at this point. He doesn’t know whether he wants you to keep going or stop, but you don’t give him a moment of respite until your second finger is all the way in.

He breathes in like he was just about to drown.

“Still good?”

This time, he takes a bit longer to answer. Some seconds pass until he nods, though it’s a more hesitant gesture now. The thumb of your right hand soothes the skin around his rim. Jonathan deserves a reward for being so good, so your thumb presses down against his perineum.

He screams.

“‘You ever done that? Play with your prostate from the outside?”

Jonathan moans like he’s crying and shakes his head.

You give him a small external massage on that place while you start a rhythm with both hands, in and out of him. Not much time passes until he no longer feels strung out, moaning freely and relaxing against the bed. Even now, as hard as he is and as much as you know he wants stimulation on his leaking cock, he hasn’t pressed himself against the pillow even once. He’s so obedient. You have no idea how you got so lucky.

You give him more of this, until he starts pushing back at you, just a minimum fraction. “C-Can you put another, Sir?”

“Of course, baby.” The ring finger is going to be the last one, you think. He’ll be sufficiently stretched after it, only enough to fit your cock but not too much. That way, he’ll truly feel the stretch, which is what you know he wants. So you start entering your last finger next to the ones already in, and this time, it’s a true challenge. There’s almost no more room. Not even the fingertip can be let in. “I’m gonna need you to relax more, sweetness. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy for me again?”

He’s breathing so noisily. He takes some seconds to try that before nodding. You press forward again, though not much changes.

“Try to push out a bit, yeah?”

“‘Push out’?!” He’s so scandalized at that that he laughs nervously, but still does as he’s told.

You’re now able to enter him better. The slide is difficult, made only a tad easier by the lube, and you manage to fit your finger bit by painstaking bit, until you have three fingers in him alongside the dildo.

Jonathan starts sobbing.

“Oh, Jon. Hurts too much?”

He can’t even answer. He’s so overwhelmed that he has to press his face against the bed to compose himself. “N-No,” is his hoarse answer. “I l-love it. I just… feel so full.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Your thumb gives him some stimulation. “Should I keep going?”

“Y-Yes, please. Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my boy.” You start a slow pace, still letting him get used to this. Jonathan’s hands grip the bedsheets on the sides of his head. His legs fold and shake, like he can’t control them. “You’re an angel. So obedient.”

He keens at the praise.

“So pretty when you cry, too. You’d make the best picture right now.”

“Oh my God.”

“Don’t you think? I imagine you could bring the camera next time and you could take pictures of yourself, crying as I’m fucking you.” You chuckle. “I mean, if you’re coherent enough.”

He does the most pornographic sound now, like he’s an animal in heat. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Sir. Please.”

The state he’s in is simply too good for the eyes. You grunt as you rub your untouched cock against his thigh, leaving a trail of precum on it. He makes a little trill when he feels it. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Sir. N-Need your cock. Need you t-to fuck me hard.”

You try to calm down and appear nonchalant. “Hmm…” You start pulling out the dildo and your fingers at the same time. He yelps, sounding almost pained when he’s empty. “I thought I was calling the shots here. I remember saying I would play a bit more after this.” With that, you press four fingers in him, an easy slide now that he’s so stretched, and start a ruthless pace in and out of him.

He screams so loudly, so high-pitched, that you’re almost afraid he’ll be hoarse by the end of this. “N-Noooo— please— Sir, I n-need—!”

You lay your left hand on his left cheek, not hard enough to slap, but hard enough for it to count as a tap, and he gasps. “I’ll give you what you need, boy. Now stay still.”

“Y-Yes— sorry, S-Sir. Th-Thank you, Sir.” Jonathan stills as much as he can, still loudly crying. The tears that roll down his cheeks make him look so debauched.

“My good boy.” Your fingertips press harshly against that bundle of nerves, and this has him thrashing for a second until your other hand gropes him hard, and he keeps still once more, but it’s a huge effort now. It’s a fast pace against his prostate now. You intend to have him beg for your cock even more before you cave in, but until then, you’re going to have your fun. You push out and pull in, fast and hard enough for his body to jiggle and for your fingers to tap his prostate hard.

He cries so much, whines like he’s being denied something. “Ah— Sir, I-I’m gonna come t-too soon— if y-you— keep—”

“Yeah? Ever come just from this? From playing with your prostate?”

He shakes his head, making small pleas here and there.

“Fucking hot. I bet I could make you cum on my cock alone.” Jonathan yells when he hears that.

You quickly pull your fingers out before he can start clenching repeatedly. He makes a shrill noise.

Your hands spread him. “Look at how wet and open you are for me. Did such a good job letting me in.”

And he cries so hard now. “Please!”

“It’s okay, baby. You did so good. You deserve a reward.” You wipe your wet hand on the sheets and grab the remaining condom. After tearing it open as quickly as you can and rolling it on your hard cock, you pour some of the lube. Then, you lay the length of your sheathed cock in-between his cheeks. “Feel how different this is. Very warm, right? Unlike your little dildo here. And so big, too.”

Jonathan moans so desperately, his words —if they can be considered that— unintelligible.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna ruin you for all these toys of yours.”

“Oh my G— oh my God.”

You press the tip of your cock against his stretched entrance. Immediately, his hands reach back, looking for yours. You take his hands and stroke them. “Nervous?”

He takes deep breaths before answering. “Y-Yes.”

“I’m gonna start very slow, so don’t worry.”

“I-It’s— it’s not that. It’s— okay— you can g-go f—”

“You want me to go fast?” One of your hands, your right one, gives his own one last caress and you then grab your member. “Let’s just start slowly, yeah? Then we’ll see.”

Jonathan has nothing to say to that, because in the next moment, you start pushing in, easily, up to a certain point. He starts breathing in and out frenetically, almost to the point of hyperventilation, when the last of your head struggles to push in. He wails, he sobs, his legs kick against the bed, and he holds onto your left hand like it’s his lifeline. “Hurts.”

“Yeah? Should we stop?” Your right hand strokes along his back, trying to soothe him.

“N-No, I l-like it. More. Please.”

You chuckle. “Who knew you were such a size queen, Jon?” You don’t give him time to get used, then. Pushing forward more and more, you find he tries to push out at the same time, just like you’ve told him little time ago. Even that seems to only help him minimally. He grunts at the effort of fitting such a big cock in him. “Almost there, sweetheart.” You start giving him short thrusts, in and out, trying to get him acclimated.

“S-So full. So full, Sir.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Your short thrusts go further each time, until there’s only a very short space until you bottom out.

Jonathan’s left hand grabs onto yours strongly, but he’s pushing you to him now.

“Oh, you want all of it?”

With one forceful thrust, you bury yourself in him entirely.

Jonathan’s sound is undescribable. He sounds like he’s crying, babbling something, and choking at the same time. His body seems to lose all its strength, because he all but collapses on the bed in his position; the only reason why he’s still up is because of the pillow under him and your left hand grabbing his.

You’re afraid he might have passed out.

“Jon?” You shake his shoulder with your right hand.

He makes the most fantastic noise in response. It’s something so vulgar, so raspy, and it almost sounds like he’s gone stupid with pleasure.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Feel good? Doesn’t hurt?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer verbally at first. He makes sounds as if he were drawing in as much breath as he can, and then answers: “Uh-huh.”

“Gonna need words, sweetness. What does that mean?” You’re so amused at him, and at the same time think he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

His left hand, which has sort of gone slack on yours, moves to let you know he’s not completely out of it. “It’s. G-Good. Hurts s-so good.” Before you can answer, he continues. “W-Want you to fuck m-me fast. Please.”

“Fuck, baby. You sure you can take it?”

“Y-Yes— I like n-not taking… not taking time when I…”

“Oh, I get it now.” Immediately, you pull back, and push in forcefully, making him scream. You start a fast pace right away as he thrashes as much as he can. “What a little pervert you are, Jon. You like pain,” a strong thrust, “…you like it big,” another even stronger one, “…and you’re so greedy you can’t even wait for it.” The force of your thrusts create loud slapping noises against his ass, only rivalled by his screams. “It’s like I got the fucking lottery, here.”

The fact that Jonathan didn’t want to get used to the size of your cock makes the beginning part of this so much more exerting. It feels like his nerve endings are on fire, and everything feels so much, overwhelming. He’s crying so loud it’s almost worrying, but he loves every second of this. Loves having to work to fit such a big member in him, have it fuck him so deeply, unlike any of his toys ever could. The searing heat of your cock has tears falling down his face. And the friction is undescribable. It almost feels like he’s not prepared enough, not lubed enough, but he is. He’s just too small in comparison to you, not made to fit something so big in him. But his hard work is paying off, because his insides keep stretching more and more with every thrust given into him, opening him so much that he feels as if you were carving your place into him.

“So fucking pretty when you cry, too.”

Jonathan moans desperately when he hears your praise. He’s so sensitive to it, even the smallest nice words can have him leaking more onto the pillow.

And then, in one of those thrusts, your cock presses down against his prostate.

“Sir!” He shouts it so loudly. “Again again please again.”

“That place feel good?” You don’t give him what he wants in its entirety. You start fucking against his prostate in random intervals, only enough to keep him on his toes, but not enough to overwhelm him. “Damn, Jonathan. I’m so deep in you, stretching you so much, I can feel it. You’re gonna be gaping so bad after this.”

For some reason, that’s his breaking point. He shocks himself with the way he’s suddenly cumming so hard against the pillow, untouched, while you struggle to keep fucking him through his clenching.

“Already? That’s so fucking hot, Jon,” you grunt as you start slowing your thrusts, but he shocks you with what he says.

“D-Don’t stop— please— don’t st-stop.”

You chuckle. “Y’sure? It’ll take a bit more for me, baby.” You continue your hard thrusts, not slowing down even a minimum fraction while he’s still in the last throes of his orgasm.

You know he’s done cumming when his moans start turning into desperate yells. When every single second of friction has him thrashing and screaming against you, you decide to test the waters. You lie fully on top of him, covering his chest with your back, opting to give him short, quick thrusts that dig deep into him.

“Come on. You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your cock inadvertently presses against his prostate without you meaning to, and his crying gets louder and more desperate. “Didn’t you?”, you have to repeat, just in case he’s about to regret it.

“Ah—! Y-Yes, Sir. I l-love it.”

“Yeah? You like when I use you?”

At that, Jonathan can do no more than wail and have his body try to curl in itself, unable to take the overwhelming sensations. “Yes! Please, u-use me, S-Sir. I’m y— I’m your t-toy!”

He’s going to be your ruin. Quickly, you encircle his torso with your arms and lift him so that he’s sitting up with you. “Hold onto my neck.” He’s so out of it that he doesn’t understand the order until you’re gathering his legs with your arms, hooking them on the juncture of your elbows, and then standing up, lifting him and dropping him on your cock while he scrambles for purchase on your neck.

“Oh my God.”

Your arms, still holding his legs, slide up his body until your hands manage to hook against his nape, and he’s now in such a vulgar position it could very well appear in the raunchiest of skin mags. Once he understands that he’s about to be fucked like this, in such a helpless position, he sobs even harder.

“Sir.”

[IMAGE - WARNING: 18+]

You fuck up into him harshly, keeping him in place with your strong grip, though the jostling of your thrusts moves him up a slight fraction. Jonathan’s hands scramble for a grip on your arms this time, feeling how deep this position allows you to reach. His eyes roll back with every strong push, feeling how it pushes against the deepest part of him, a pressure so intense it’s almost painful against the end of his walls. He feels almost as if you were thrusting right into his stomach with how big you are. And he wails when most of your thrusts push against his prostate. The frequency with which you’re stimulating it is too much for him, pushes him closer and closer to delirium the more time that passes.

You don’t talk now, too engrossed in witnessing Jonathan losing his sanity, even if you can’t see his face. It’s so hot to see how he doesn’t sob that much anymore, rather starts moaning, fully accustomed to your cock now. You hold him tighter against you and give him a short, quicker pistoning of your cock, and the gradual change is almost unbearable: his moans turn into high-pitched whines, then into simple gasps, and then.

And then he starts making noises that sound as if he were giggling. Laughing even.

“Oh, my boy,” you grunt near his ear, because you’re getting close, and then chuckle. “You’re losing it.”

The euphoria in Jonathan’s face will be unforgettable for sure. He’s simply so debauched, eyes rolling back and almost drooling from the overwhelming feelings. His hands barely holding onto your arms, since his strength is weaning. But he’s coherent enough to rasp out: “In me. C-Come in— me, S-Sir. W-Want you to c-cum inside. Want t-to cum with you.”

His words have you fucking him so roughly now that his previous loud moaning resumes. You’re almost there. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up even more?” It’s all useless talk since you have a condom on, but the visual is so stunning you can’t help but add fuel to the fire.

Jonathan can’t even speak from how stimulated he is, but he doesn’t need to. The crazed laugh he releases at your words is more than enough answer.

“Yeah, you do.” Your thrusts turn erratic. You growl at his ear. “Now, be a good boy and come.”

Almost as if on command, Jonathan’s body seizes, and something truly spectacular happens. He comes, he comes so hard that his mouth is open on a silent scream, and he comes so hard that he starts— convulsing in your grip, thrown into a full-body orgasm that almost pushes him off you.

His repetitive clenching is enough to push you to the edge. You fill the condom inside him as your thrusts halt in small bursts, all while grunting right into his ear.

His erratic movements are so prolonged, so intense that you’re worried about him, so you sit on the edge of the bed, then lie down, taking him with you as you do and lower his legs as softly as you can. Then, he stops.

His body goes fully lax against you just as the last of your orgasm ends.

“Jon?” You take his face in your right hand, unable to see him in this angle. You pull out of him with him still on top of you, and he doesn’t even make a noise, doesn’t move a single muscle. You lay him on the bed next to you and crawl until you’re face to face with him.

Right in that moment, he regains consciousness, coming to with a high-pitched gasp. He looks disoriented for a second.

“Damn, you worried me for a second, Jonny.”

He’d make the prettiest picture just like this. Debauched, clearly just fucked, hair messed up, tear trails down his cheeks. “H-How long—”

“Just a second, sweetheart.”

Jonathan relaxes against the bed, breathing deeply, until he regains his footing. Then, he smiles at you. “Thank you, Sir.”

You chuckle at him, and lie next to him, holding him close to you. “Why are you thanking me?”

It seems like he regains some of his bearings, because he gets shy again, and presses his face against your chest. “I dunno,” he mumbles against your skin.

He’s so precious. Only he could get this abashed right after the most obscene sex ever had.

“You were right. You ruined me for anything else. How am I supposed to use these now?” He vaguely gestures at the open safe you had totally forgotten was still on the bed.

You laugh out loud. “Well. It’s a good thing you’re not gonna need them anymore. Not when you have me.”

The cassette is ASMR, but I didn’t want to use that acronym specifically because I read that ASMR was invented around 2010.

And yes I put Jonathan in a full nelson in the end.

#stranger things x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #top male reader #fanfic

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