#wish you had cared enough to not hurt me so

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[revelboo]

Hi, hello!! Hope you are having a lovely day. Could you give me a Valentine's headcanon for Es megatron? ^^

Valentine’s Oneshot- Earthspark Megatron

Megatron x Reader

• Landing and transforming he slips into his hidden home far from Ghost’s prying eyes, and his optics immediately find the shape of you. Watching you sitting crosslegged on his berth, bent over a datapad, little sheets of paper all around you. Not even noticing his entrance as you reference the datapad and then make a note. “Still trying to learn Cybertronian glyphs?” And why does that make his spark warm. Liking that you’re interested in him. In his language and history. Head lifting, your frown eases into a genuine smile. “Dorothy told me today’s a holiday,” he adds. Carefully removing the things from subspace he’d had Dorothy get for him, he wishes he’d been able to pick them out himself.

• Watching him step up on the berth with you and mass shift, your breath catches as he offers you candy and flowers. That’s right. Today is Valentine’s Day. You’d forgotten all about it, lost most of your sense of time living with him here. The real world seeming more like a dream now. Megatron reality. Stomach fluttering, you take the gifts from him and he reaches to cup your cheek, servos gently brushing your hair from your face, his touch achingly intimate. “I don’t have anything for you,” you whisper, feeling guilty as he presses a kiss against the top of your head.

• “You’re more than enough, little one,” he says as your face reddens and your head ducks, toying with the petals of your flowers. Embarrassed and so skittish. What would you say if he just admitted that it’s killing him to recharge every night with your warmth draped against him. To be able to touch you and unable to just tell you what he wants because he doesn’t want to frighten you off. He’d sworn to be your shield. Shouldn’t expect or want anything more than to keep you safe.

• Never knowing what to say when he says stuff like that, you can’t meet his optics. Stuck in the awkwardness of liking him more than as a friend. Of having a crush on him. Those big, gentle hands and his growling brogue spreading warm through you. Every night going to sleep lying on him listening to the hum of his spark, feeling a big hand draped across you and realizing you’re a little more in love with him every time you close your eyes.

• You still won’t look at him and he curls an arm around you, content to hold you. To guard and care for you even though you don’t feel the same way about him. “Come, let’s share a meal,” he says, forcing a smile like your silence doesn’t hurt. Knows that some day you’ll want to go back. Be among your own and leave him behind. That he can’t keep you here with him forever. There was a time when he wouldn’t have let you escape him even if you’d begged. Keeps telling himself he’s not that mech anymore, but when he thinks of you asking to leave him, he’s not so sure.

[xomakara]

Roses

SUMMARY | Apparently, getting dumped on Valentine's Day isn't necessarily a bad thing. Especially when it leads to you meeting a handsome stranger and spending the night with him.

PAIRINGS |  Jaehyun x Reader 

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked 

GENRE |  smut, slight angst, comfort, Valentine's Day, birthday 

CONTENT/WARNINGS | heartbreaks, profanity, drinking, flirting, teasing, birthday sex, unprotective sex, shower sex, comfort sex, creampies, fingering, pet names (sweetheart, etc), open ending

LENGTH |  5,483 words 

TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety 

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  As usual, thank you Ally ( @lovetaroandtaemin ) for beta-reading this and Beezy ( @hobeemin ) for the beautiful banner. The both of you never fail to amaze me and I appreciate all the work and help!

Happy Valentine's to all the couples and singles out there. And happy birthday to our Valentine boy, Jaehyun 💚💚

NCT Main Masterlist

You thought you were having such a shitty Valentine's Day when the man you had been seeing for years broke up with you, leaving you standing in the rain like a fool. The bouquet of roses that he gifted you before blurting out, "It's over," remained clenched in your numb, icy hands as you watched him get into a taxi with another woman, no doubt leaving you for her.

What went wrong? What did you do? All these thoughts and questions swarmed inside your mind, and there were no answers anywhere to be found. You looked at the roses in your hand before sighing and carelessly throwing them to the ground, the petals scattering around your feet and getting wet from the rain. A miserable whimper left your lips, tears welling up in your eyes before being indistinguishable from the rain on your face.

A sob burst free from your chest, the reality of the situation hitting you with full force. You had poured your heart and everything you had into this relationship, just for him to take those pieces of you and break them, making it so that no one would ever put them together again. At the worst of times, you wished to die, to just disappear. All this pain felt unbearable.

"You too?" a low, masculine voice questioned, coming from a distance.

You looked around, not caring in the least that you must have looked pathetic. Tears stained your face, mixing with rain, and mascara ran down your cheeks in streaks. The cold, humid air froze your lungs, making each breath hurt. It felt like you had a stab wound in your chest.

At the end of the sidewalk, he stood. This man, tall and handsome, looked just as miserable and pitiful as you did. The bouquet of roses that he held looked almost crushed and damaged in his grip. Like you, his clothing stuck to his body, darkened with rain.

Slowly, you turned your entire body to look at him. The sleeve of your coat, dampened by the rain, wiped away any signs of your sadness. He neared, stopping before you, close enough to look down at you. Although his expression remained neutral, you could see the emotions swirling in his iridescent eyes.

"Miserable Valentine's Day, huh?" you breathed, barely audible above the sound of rain, but somehow, he heard you.

"It sucks when Valentine's Day is also your birthday," the stranger lamented, handing his damaged bouquet over to you.

“Oof,” not having the strength to be polite, you took the ruined flowers. "Who broke up with you?"

"That woman that was in the taxi," he replied with a sigh, pointing at the cab that left the scene long ago. "I'm guessing the man that was with her broke up with you?"

Silently, you nodded. For a minute, the two of you stood there, letting the rain cool off your hot skin, neither of you having anything else to say. When the man let out a dry laugh, you gazed up at him in mild surprise. His expression finally changed. There was a smile now, although forced.

"We both look awful," he stated before gazing up at the dark, dreary sky.

"It's funny... we look like quite the pair, don't we? Getting dumped by our significant others on Valentine's Day." The flowers in his hands dropped to the ground, joining your discarded ones. Your tear-soaked eyes blinked, attempting to stave off more tears, while you chuckled bitterly at the humor of your current predicament, "I don't think I ever want to see roses again."

"Same," the handsome stranger replied in understanding. His mouth opened as if he had a question he wanted to ask, but thought against it. He paused momentarily, not wanting to linger on the subject. Inhaling deeply, he shook the droplets of rain off his face before clearing his throat, "Would you like a drink?"

Without hesitation, you answered. "Fuck yes. Anything to forget this stupid day."

The two of you decided to make the venture into a bar not too far from the place you had just gotten dumped at. Walking into the building felt like a huge relief. Immediately, warmth hit you as the wet clothes clinging to your body continued to drip. The smell of alcohol and food assaulted your nose. The bar was nearly empty, given that most couples would rather be somewhere more romantic than here. There were only a handful of individuals scattered in booths and at the tables, mostly singletons enjoying their single lives. The television played the latest sports highlights and weather news while two young people conversed and cleaned the counters.

You slid into the stool at the bar, shaking your damp hair that began to dry at the ends, while he sat in the seat next to you.

A woman no older than  you walked towards the bar. "What can I get for you guys?" She looked between the two of you. "Something warm? You both look cold and soaked. We have hot cocoa and whiskey. I don't recommend both at the same time, though."

"Well... today has really, really sucked for both of us," you gestured to the man sitting beside you. "We both got dumped and apparently, it's his birthday too."

"Whiskey it is," the bartender nodded in understanding.

"Can we get something hot to eat as well?" the man beside you asked, his voice laced with hunger and coldness. "Anything will do," he added.

The woman behind the bar gave him a warm smile. "Of course. I'll be right back."

You looked at the man, thrusting your hand towards him. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Jaehyun," he introduced himself while grasping your hand, giving it a firm handshake. "If you don't mind me asking, why did your guy break up with you?"

"I don't know. I thought everything was normal until a few hours ago when we met up for dinner and he handed me the roses," you began to recall the moments prior, shuddering at the thought. "Then, he dropped the bomb that he doesn't feel the same way anymore and started listing things I was lacking, which honestly hurt because everything I've done was for him."

"Same shit," Jaehyun shrugged in defeat as the bartender placed a pair of short glasses in front of each of you, filled to the brim with whiskey. He picked up his glass and brought it to his lips, downing half the drink.

You took yours, bringing it to your own mouth and taking a generous sip. "What about you? Same reason?"

"I mean, it didn't start like that, but I guess in the end... it's pretty similar," he shrugged again, his damp shoulders rustling against the sleeves of his coat. "She used to complain how my work kept me busy and how she barely ever sees me, so... maybe, that was just it. She was cheating on me. Found someone else." He tossed his head back and downed the rest of his beverage.

"Sucks how they ended up together, especially right after they dumped both of us," you huffed, feeling angry and cheated. You and Jaehyun just shared one look of agreement and frustration. It wasn't hard to empathize with him. After all, you both shared similar circumstances and experiences. "Sorry."

He let out a light chuckle. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I'm sorry you had a bad Valentine's Day. And a bad birthday. That just... sucks," you purse your lips and lightly knock back the remaining liquor, relishing in the sting.

Jaehyun observed the frown in your features. Somehow, he managed to lift the corners of your lips upwards. "Well, thanks to you, at least it's not too shitty anymore. So, happy birthday to me," he announced, raising his empty glass into the air with a small whoop. "And Valentine's I guess."

That managed to pull a small chuckle out of you.

"Pfft," he grinned at the sound. "Look, it's gonna take more than just two drinks to cheer either of us up, but... how 'bout we forget about them and be each other's Valentines? It's still a holiday, and technically, it’s not that late. Let's drink the night away and forget what happened tonight?"

A brow arched with amusement, skeptical but flattered nonetheless. "You don't even know me. I could be a serial killer."

"Pretty sure a serial killer wouldn't go out of her way to console the person next to her if they happened to be as heartbroken as she was," Jaehyun reminded. "And besides, a serial killer can't be as pretty as you."

"Way to flatter a girl," you giggled, blush tinting your cheeks a rosy hue. "I should warn you though, if I drink too much, I might vomit on your shoes."

"Fair warning," he gave you an inviting, warm smile. "A bit weird, but since today can't get worse, how 'bout it? Think of it as celebrating my birthday and being someone's Valentine at the same time."

The heat from the liquor was enough to melt some of your worries away. While the entire scenario you were thrown into seemed a bit unorthodox, considering it would be with a stranger, his eyes held a glint of sincerity, in which you saw a spark of a chance to give both you and him a reason to at least laugh by the end of the night.

"I suppose it's better than going home alone and crying into my pillows right? This might be a good distraction for the both of us," you agreed to the idea, meeting his grin with one of your own. The bartender set a plate of nachos down on the counter, sliding it to the two of you. You looked down at the plate and couldn't help but laugh softly, remembering how you both asked for something to fill the stomach. Jaehyun also snickered upon realizing the humorous predicament.

While the nachos didn't satisfy your need for a more proper meal, it served to stave off the hunger as you drank. Eventually, the pair of you grew relaxed, the stress from your breakups disappearing momentarily. The night got later, and the drink you consumed blurred your mind, letting you feel the warmth spreading throughout your body.

You weren't sure how many drinks the pair of you shared; the bartender didn't seem to care that the two of you consumed glass after glass without paying for a thing. All she did was just serve you, clean the table, and occasionally join in on the conversation. It might have been the alcohol, but there was no shortage of laughs between the three of you. You leaned into Jaehyun's side and clutched his arm while shaking with laughter at the terrible jokes. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

By the time 10PM rolled by, it felt natural to call it a night.

The two of you finally returned to a sober state of mind. As you fished through your wallet, prepared to pay the tab and thank the bartender for keeping both of you entertained for the evening, Jaehyun stopped you, insisting on paying for the both of you. You left the bar, the rain having settled down considerably compared to a few hours ago. There was only a light mist in the air, and your breath came out in visible puffs of white.

As the alcohol wore off, you could feel the slight chill from the lingering temperature, your thin jacket not exactly doing wonders to protect you. You noticed Jaehyun also shuddered, rubbing his arms and trying to conserve his warmth.

He stopped walking, tugging your arm gently, which made you come to a halt. A warm arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. Confused, you blinked up at him with curiosity, waiting for him to explain what was happening. You could barely process much, aside from the smell of alcohol on him and his slightly tousled, damp hair, given the intoxicated state you were in.

"Do you want to come back to my place? Maybe keep celebrating my birthday?" His voice was thick, and his stare was heavy.

While a voice in the back of your head urged you to return home, you hesitated. Despite not knowing him very well, your attraction and interest were present. Perhaps you were a fool for accepting the invitation, but  the alcohol coursing through your body told you to just let go of your inhibitions and worries.

And so, you answered his question without a second thought. "Sure."

Once the answer was uttered, the two of you trekked the short distance, arms around each other to keep from collapsing, until you entered a tall complex. Within no time, you stumbled through the threshold of his apartment.

Warm hands found their way around your waist as he guided you. "C'mon, let's get you warmed up," he urged quietly in your ear.

He led you towards the bathroom, dimly illuminated by the warm, orange hue from the standing lamp. Despite the limited lighting, the details of the apartment were still obvious and easy to see. It was large, simple, and minimalistic. As you glanced to the side, the view of his kitchen looked even better. Everything looked clean and organized.

Noticing your inspection, Jaehyun couldn't help the light-hearted comment. "Pretty spacious and expensive for someone whose life has just been obliterated, huh?" He pointed out, making you snort.

"I'll ignore that," you chided playfully, rolling your eyes before shrugging out of his grip and removing your outer layers of clothing. "Besides, despite everything else that’s gone to hell tonight, it's actually a pretty nice apartment."

With a laugh, Jaehyun immediately followed suit, yanking his sweater off and throwing it aside. His large hands roamed along his muscular torso and arms, dusting any residue from his drenched shirt.

"As much as I enjoy you standing around and admiring the view," his teasing voice broke through your ogling, making you flush, realizing that he was clearly referring to the apartment and not himself. "You'll warm up a lot faster in the shower."

"I appreciate that, however," you looked at him innocently, twirling your wet, loose hair with your fingers. "Are you joining me? Just to, y'know, conserve water and energy or whatever."

Without an ounce of shame, Jaehyun threw his shirt onto the pile with a sly smirk. "My energy and resources are very important, and you're absolutely right."

"Of course," you murmured, your gaze trained onto him. He was more athletic than you had assumed from your observations, his abdominal muscles tensed and his pectoral muscles just as defined. Your hands almost ached to touch the broad, strong shoulders and firm biceps. "Oh, I don't have anything else to change into."

Jaehyun hummed. "I could lend you something, unless you really don't mind me ogling you for the rest of the night."

"Well..." a mischievous smile tugged at your lips as you gestured at him and the amount of exposed skin. "Then you don't mind, huh?"

"Good point, I suppose," he mused, then pointing to the shower and letting out a huff. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you out here."

"Why? Scared?" you wiggled your eyebrows.

Your teasing smirk made him huff indignantly. "Absolutely not."

You laughed as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom, locking the door and slipping out of your remaining clothes. Jaehyun joined you in unclothing his bottom half, eyes lidded as he watched you step into the spacious, tiled shower, with a large sliding glass door. You turned on the faucet and twisted it, causing warm water to spray down in large droplets.

"God, a warm shower is just what I need," you exhaled with appreciation before catching him still standing outside. "Well, are you getting in?"

He dropped the rest of his clothes before slipping in beside you. You couldn't help but appreciate him—he was quite tall and muscular, very toned in all the right places. Unable to resist, your hands rested on his warm chest, fingers ghosting across the scars scattered across his abdomen. His own hands stroked up your sides and towards your arms, raising goosebumps. The hot steam and the proximity were nearly intoxicating and definitely clouded your minds.

Your body pressed against his, sighing as the heat from the water enveloped you, his lips capturing yours hungrily. Eager to satisfy your own desires, you traced your nails along the length of his arms before sneaking your fingers through his short, wet locks of hair, earning a pleasurable sigh out of him. Jaehyun responded by tightening his grip and moving you away from the stream. He leaned his weight onto you, gently guiding your back against the cool, tile wall.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Y/N," he whispered, mouth pressed against the side of your neck, teeth nibbling the delicate skin. His hot breath against your sensitive skin sent shivers down your spine.

"Surprise me, birthday boy," your eyes flashed, daring him to continue the enticing action.

And that was all it took.

The moment the words left your lips, Jaehyun wasted no time and picked you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. Without him having to ask, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Consider yourself surprised," the smirk that crossed his features would have made you roll your eyes if it didn't elicit such a pleasurable response out of you.

Jaehyun used one free hand and intertwined it with yours, pinning it above your head, before his lips, that were wet from the shower, captured your own, giving you a feverish kiss, full of lust. You squealed when you felt the tip of his hardness nudge at your slick entrance before sliding inside. His length filled your warm, throbbing heat completely and caused an involuntary cry out of you when you felt the first thrust, nearly slamming your head against the tile, while he shuddered in satisfaction at the tight feeling engulfing his cock.

Jaehyun rocked his hips, building a slow pace, and with each movement, the friction of his warm skin against yours ignited a delicious, burning sensation. Each moan from him seemed to further add fuel to the fire, sending shivers through you. With each thrust, his pace grew in intensity. Your other hand found its way across his back, nails digging into his shoulder and surely leaving a mark. The water streamed down, washing the fluids down the drain.

Barely managing a coherent word out of your mouth between the soft pants and moans that left your lips, you blurted, "Don't you dare stop. God, this feels good."

Jaehyun squeezed your hand that interlaced his fingers. His pupils were dark with passion. The feeling was mutual for the both of you, bodies screaming, wanting each other and begging for satisfaction. With his free arm, he supported your bottom and held you against him, quickening the movements, pressing further and deeper inside, forcing the most explicit sounds and expressions to escape from your throat. He too didn't make it easier on you. The harder he pounded into you, the louder his moans became and the less coherent he was with his words.

As the ecstasy overwhelmed you both, every emotion seemed intensified. His member, pounding repeatedly into the most sensitive parts of you, and his heavy breaths as he gave you his all, sent waves of euphoria. With each thrust and plunge, every inch of you was set aflame, causing sparks of pleasure to ignite the more sensitive points in your body.

While your limbs were numb and shaking uncontrollably in bliss, you held on tighter. Despite having your thoughts hazy and scrambled, the thought of wanting more of him, more of this, never ceased.

"Jaehyun...bed please?" your voice croaked with want, speaking between your shaky gasps for air. "As much as I like shower sex...the tile is...ahh—hard against my back."

He said nothing in response but groaned his approval.

The pair of you fumbled, managing to hastily dry your damp skin, before Jaehyun scooped you up and walked the short distance towards the large, empty bedroom. With not so gentle movements, he dumped you on the bed. Before you could even register a reaction, he was upon you, his warm body covering yours. You hissed, biting his bottom lip, with the new skin to skin contact and the smooth sheets beneath you.

"Tell me what you wanna do, sweetheart. We got time," his husky whisper made you whine.

"Surprise me again," you smirked. "Come on, what's stopping you?"

Without having to provoke him further, your demand was fulfilled. Jaehyun sat back against the wall, propped up with pillows, then hauled you up to straddle him. He barely gave you time to adjust to a comfortable position before sliding into you slowly, relishing in the gratifying sensations that rushed through his body. You gripped at his shoulders while his lips explored every bit of the skin exposed to him, from the side of your neck, behind your ear, all the way down to the curve of your breast. As he planted an affectionate kiss there, your heart fluttered, before you let out a long and low moan in approval.

"This good? Tell me," his voice was rich and sounded like velvet, tickling your ears as he leaned closer. His hands massaged your ass, spreading apart the soft, warm skin. Your movements began slow and deliberate. As the new angle of penetration caused a more delicious sensation for both, it quickly became difficult to maintain the pace you had originally started at. 

Grinding your hips down, Jaehyun met you halfway and drove his length deeper into your wet heat. Every movement was agonizingly slow, forcing you to focus on the exact movement of him. His tongue languidly flicked at your hardened nipples. Shivers of satisfaction rushed through the sensitive skin and you let out a keening sound, craving his attention. It earned an almost sadistic chuckle from him, and the lazy tempo remained.

A pleading look was on your face as you whined, trying to roll your hips faster and harder. "Harder. Please," you pleaded.

Instead, he placed his strong hands on your waist, forcing you to move slower, all while giving your other nipple the same, languid affection, your impatience being swallowed with a cry. His actions were torturous as the warmth in your stomach was still coiling, barely on the verge of pleasure, yet not near enough to push you to your climax.

"We don't have anywhere else to be right, Y/N?" Jaehyun whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of your breast.

"No, we're alone...mmm. Fuck...just us," you were desperate for friction, almost painfully needing the build-up to hit, grinding your hips and clawing at his skin, urging him to comply. "Please, Jaehyun, we can go slower tomorrow."

"So you're saying that there's a tomorrow?" his gaze met yours and held your stare, all while he continued his unhurried tempo and the gentle ministrations.

"Yes," you promised without hesitation.

He complied, this time picking up the pace like  you demanded of him, but still taking his sweet time enjoying every inch of you. Your breathing hitched as he  met the frenzied need, his groans as needy and excited as your own. His calloused hands found their way towards your back, clutching onto your ass, feeling the supple skin beneath his hands as he urged your body to slide up and down, using your momentum to guide you into a rhythm, occasionally slamming against your heat with such ferocity, you had no doubt it would leave bruises come morning.

"Fuck, you feel so good," his moan was husky and low, while he sucked at your sensitive nipple, his tongue swiping over the nub occasionally. You could barely hold out anymore, holding his face to your breast, hips jutting forth, desperate to take every inch of him, needing more.

"M-More...please," you begged. The next few thrusts were purposeful and rough. Each time his length pierced you, you keened and threw your head back. "Jaehyun."

Your entire body was ablaze, all the heat coming straight from the friction of your wet bodies pressed against each other and the pleasure from your intimate area, contracting around his pulsing member.

"So pretty, saying my name," Jaehyun's breaths were low and throaty, sending delightful vibrations straight through your body. He shifted your weight, now laying on the bed as his long, slender fingers roamed your thighs and his mouth planted loving kisses up the length of your neck, finally reaching the delicate skin of the shell of your ear. His hands slipped beneath the bend of your knees, holding them apart with ease. "Say it again, sweetheart. Let everyone know who's making you feel like this."

"Jaehyun," you called again, hearing him huff, increasing the momentum of each thrust, no longer matching the lazy tempo as he indulged and appreciated your wet, clenching pussy. He reveled in the feeling of your heat tight around him, every contraction, squeezing him and urging him closer to climax.

"Say it again, sweetheart."

"Jaehyun... oh fuck. Don't stop!"

"So wet... so pretty..." He plunged into the warm, wet heat, watching your expression carefully with fascination as the lewd sounds escaped your lips. "Look at you, so pretty all spread out and begging. So needy for me."

Every moan, whimper, and cry from you encouraged him. His cock would pump in, once, twice, until the friction was exactly as you needed to make you cry out, shuddering with pure pleasure as a long and lewd, "Fuucckk," escaped your throat.

Before long, the entire room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed in with lewd and erotic sounds from the pair of you as the two of you fell further into a pleasurable daze. Jaehyun didn't seem to stop, holding on tightly onto you and sucking on the sensitive areas, littering your skin with bright red splotches and darkening hickies. Your senses were overwhelmed, the only coherent thing in your head was the thought of wanting release.

"I'm close," your voice sounded hoarse. “Oh, shit.”

"Can I cum inside you?" His face was serious and a light flush was evident. “Please?”

All you could do was respond with an incoherent hum and a nod. He took that as consent, bringing one hand from your back and in between your thighs. Immediately, he was cupping the flesh between your legs, and with his thumb, he circled your sensitive bundle of nerves, bringing about the sparks of intense bliss. It brought you over the edge, a scream tearing past your throat as waves of pleasure crashed through you and you rode your high. With a low growl and one final, hard thrust, his own warmth coated you and filled you to the hilt, the lewd, wet sound becoming the backdrop to both your heated cries.

The aftershocks of pleasure reverberated through you, sending quivers and uncontrollable shakes in your body. You clung tightly to Jaehyun as you let it slowly subside. For a moment, the room was quiet, and the only sounds were the soft pants from the both of you. You laid there comfortably in his embrace and felt safe and secure.

After a moment passed, Jaehyun spoke up, eyes locked onto yours, with a sort of satisfied, smugness in the smile that lit up his features. "Well, that wasn't too shitty. I'd say I celebrated my birthday and was someone's Valentine as well."

You snickered lightly before returning the grin, adjusting yourself to cup his face tenderly, "You're absolutely right."

Light trickled through the blinds, alerting Jaehyun to the rising dawn, and as such, he let out a muffled sigh. Sinking further into the cotton and warmth beside him, his hands roamed your body until they reached your hips. Without warning, he gripped the flesh tightly, and pressed a soft kiss at the back of your neck.

You groaned softly, shifting your body a bit.

"Wake up," he cooed, the tone was innocent, yet laced with mischief. He pressed himself into you and breathed slowly, carefully, and deliberately on the side of your throat, giving you shivers. "Sleep's over, sweetheart."

"I don't want to wake up," you sighed. Your hair was slightly disheveled, and your voice had a hint of sleep in it, all while Jaehyun refused to relent from the merciless teasing. Instead, he chuckled, dragging his hand further south to tease you by stroking the sensitive flesh of your outer thighs. Another whine escaped your throat and he grinned triumphantly, relishing how pliant you were for him. You were no match for him and the brute, merciless force, as he repeated the tantalizing actions all over again, relishing in how the previous evening played itself over in his head. "Really? After the night we had? How do you still have energy?"

"Waking up to a beautiful woman naked in my bed seems like good motivation to start the day," Jaehyun mumbled, his face buried into the crook of your shoulder, letting his body press even closer into the frame of your own, savoring how soft your form was against him. The slight pressure and friction gave him another reminder of the fact he was very much naked, very much excited, and very much ready, which he demonstrated to you.

You rolled your eyes, a huff a laughter escaping you, "Fuck you."

"Been there, done that, sweetheart. It's pretty awesome, you know," he retorted.

You let out another low, tired laugh, burying yourself deep into his embrace before adding, "You are full of it, Jaehyun."

His deep chuckles resonated throughout the room as he stared at you fondly. "I like waking up next to you."

It caught you by surprise, but you decided to reciprocate. After all, why not? "I like waking up next to you." Your voice was muffled, though still discernible, as you hid yourself in the pillow. "So I was thinking..."

"Hm?" he grunted.

"Can we keep seeing each other?" you asked. "You know, go on dates, actually get to know each other and stuff. Romantic and fun shit that, usually, we miss out on in relationships. Hell, I'm not sure what this even is, and I probably look like an idiot, but I really enjoyed last night and waking up next to you...so...do you wanna give it a shot?"

Jaehyun took his time in answering. He removed the hands from the most delicate part of your skin. Without waiting a beat longer, Jaehyun rolled over and pushed you to lie on your back, allowing his body to partially cover your form. The movement was graceful and with such ease that your eyes fluttered open to find him pinning your wrists on either side.

"It doesn't have to be serious or anything, just keep it casual if you want," you tried to speak over the lump in your throat and the knot in your stomach.

However, instead of agreeing or even disagreeing with you, Jaehyun leaned in and captured your lips, silencing any potential words that might have left them. A feverish and needy passion was present in the languid kisses. You responded in kind, eagerly parting your lips and allowing him to dominate you.

There was no fight, no sense of struggling—you gladly gave in and allowed yourself to become vulnerable. There was a silent exchange, and with a slight flick of your hips, you parted your legs for him. He groaned happily and relished in the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his hot, hard length pressing against your throbbing, damp warmth. You couldn't stop the moans or the reactions from your body.

After several minutes passed, the pair of you broke from the lip lock. Both of you panted from the kiss, lips bruised.

"Is that a no?" your chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Sweetheart, I'm thinking of ways to bend you over and show you exactly what kind of relationship I want with you," he answered.

A soft peal of laughter escaped your lips as his mouth occupied itself in nipping your soft spots, igniting shivers down the column of your throat. "Have it your way then," you hissed between moans, spreading your legs wider to accommodate him. "You won't be buying me roses anytime soon, right?"

Jaehyun rolled his eyes with a light scoff. "How can I forget the way you dumped those roses on the ground yesterday?" He continued as he began the slow rocking, with your nails digging at his broad, muscular back. "Maybe I'll buy you other kinds of flowers."

"Bold of you to assume that I like flowers," you scoffed. "Bold. Really fucking bold, you know that, Jaehyun?"

Another dry huff of laughter. "Ah, I see I'll have to fix that then."

[fracturedodr]

Oh, that had to hurt.

Bell flinched at the grip Freya had on Hogni's hair, wishing he could do something to help but knowing that if he tried, if he rushed her... Probably worse things than just yelling would happen. And he wasn't in a state to be fighting right now anyway - he was still shaking from the flashback, from being so utterly convinced he was in the deep floors again.

"My... soul?" He repeated quietly. That was what she'd seen, that she had grown so obsessed with? Past tense, he noted though. Had been. Not 'is'. Was. An implication that his soul wasn't clear anymore. He wasn't sure what that meant, nor how to feel about it, and so set it aside for now to discuss with Hestia later.

Assuming he got that far.

"You can't just... force, love..." Bell muttered - those angry thorns were still there in his chest, he was trying so hard to keep a reign on them- "I don't-" Cutting off, hands still in fists, he wanted to yell at her so badly because God or not she didn't understand-

A pause.

Why did it matter if he kept himself from yelling? If it came down to it, she'd probably kill him anyway, or steal him back and start over, Hogni begging her not to, or not. He was terrified, but now he was angry in equal measure, and was beginning to understand what it was that made him so thoroughly angry at her, enough so to wonder if it was hate.

"I don't care that you're a goddess, I care that you lied!" He yelled, finally. And that was it, wasn't it? That was the crux of it. He'd believed her, trusted her, taken comfort that she, at least, was being honest with him - and then he'd steadily realized that... she hadn't. That out of everyone, she'd been the one lying the MOST. About every little thing, down to what he'd done, where he'd went, and who he'd spoken to. "Noone knew me and I felt like I was going insane, I thought you were the only person who'd never lie to me, but-" it was, perhaps, partly due to the prior stress that he found himself ranting at her like this - he was tired, scared, stressed, dirty, and he just wanted to curl up somewhere small and alone and isolated so he could decompress from all this bullshit! "-but the only thing you ever did was lie! Why would I ever stay with someone if all they do is lie to me?!"

And further, why would he believe that he would any different than the hundreds of people already in her Familia who may well have believed themselves to be her Odr? Why, when the odds were so high that he'd just become another doll on her shelf of carefully curated collectables whose only purpose was to look pretty and wait for her to want to play? No. If he was anything, he refused to be hers. Not if that was how she showed her love.

Freya stared at Bell incredulously. She slowly let go of Hogni's chin, but her fingers found their way into his hair again...gentle, affectionate. "Do you know how long I've been searching for them--for you? For my Odr? If it's not you, then when? Who?!"

There was a quiet sound from Hogni as she suddenly gripped a fistful of his hair. He still hadn't let go of her leg, though. He'd keep her there, keep her from getting any closer to Bell.

"Your soul was so clear, so pure...innocent. I thought you were my Odr. The one that could love me, beyond my status as a Goddess of love and beauty...But no--" She tugged on Hogni's hair again, attempting to slowly pry him off her leg, but he wasn't budging. "Y-you're just like the rest of them...! Like..." she looked down at Hogni, silently giving her example. Her eyes widened slightly, noticing the ear piece now...but she said nothing. What was she supposed to make of that? Did her two former Executives deliberately leave her just to elope?

And Hestia allowed that?? (That had to be where they'd gone, if he was here with Bell...!)

"L...Lady F-Freya..." Hogni's voice cracked again, his cheek pressed against her thigh. His face was absolutely burning with a blush. "Please, I-I beseech you, keep searching...Bell w-was...never yours to take..."

"--This doesn't concern you!" She snapped, giving another small pull on his hair. She didn't really want to be TOO rough. She always thought Hogni's hair was pretty, just like Hedin's...

[priyal-d123]

A Dead Poet's Cry

I saw this girl the other day

And it felt like I had seen her before

As if I'd known her somewhere in some way

She smiled when she saw me

And I knew that's what she did for everyone

That was the thing about her,

She loved smiles; it reminded her of battles won

But there was something wrong

She knew I could see it too

So she wore that smile further

But just for a moment there, it faltered

And just for a moment then, I could see through

I saw it all in front of me then; laid bare

How far she'd loved and how bad shed lost

How much she'd had to suffer, when all she'd done was care

I felt broken then, as if I were the one who'd been betrayed

I felt hurt on her behalf

I couldn't understand who would do this to someone

Who didn't deserve to cry, but to laugh

I felt angered ar that someone

And I think I knew who

And I wanted to hold her, and tell her

'don't leave, I still love you'

Something told me that's what she wanted to hear too

Just once, not for me or anyone else, but for THAT person to care

To whisper, 'don't worry, I'm not going anywhere'

I reached out; to be that person for her, i tried

But the closer I got, the worse, for the loss, she cried

They say she wears her grief well

Or is it the other way around?

Cause that's what they'd taught her to do

To bear it all, and yet, not make a sound

She assured me; 'its fine' she said

Even though it was clearly not

My heart hurt to see her

Waiting for someone who'd succumbed her to this rot

And I wondered if that's what love was

I'd never believed in it; now I detested it even more so

Because it has killed her alive

And even still refused to let her let go

I pleaded her to forget; to somehow just live

But she just shook her head sadly

And I knew there was nothing left in her to give

I saw it slipping

Her facade giving away

And I saw what once was beautiful

Fading with people who didn't stay

What justice is this, I asked

I wondered why she so stubbornly held on

There came that smile again, full of pain and loss,

And something told me, she's never accept they're gone

Her eyes dimmed then

And her smile finally dropped

Tears rushed to fill her eyes to the brim

And my heart just stopped

And she stared back at me

The girl behind the glass

Her hope had been the end of her

Her innocence, her love, her smile, now gone

Lost somewhere in the blur

[chibishortdeath]

Ya know, Castlevania tackled the concept that life after defeating Dracula could be difficult for a Belmont with Richter feeling like he’d lost all purpose and reason to go on living if not for saving others and fighting against something—

But, do you think any of them before him felt that way too?

I mean it sounds kind of miserable, being raised your whole life to be solely relied on for one moment… and then what? How do you handle the sudden shift to ‘not being needed anymore’? Evidently, most of them didn’t have very much happen to them after the events of their games since we don’t get to know—

But, do you think any of them ever got better? Do you think anyone before Richter ever learned how to live for themselves? Did Richter?

Anyway it’s 8 PM and I’m sitting around wondering if any of the Belmonts were still happy after their happy endings (debatable if certain ones got happy endings tbh but anyway), Konami can u check on them, I’m worried—

[skunkes]

the bad: i have been raised without much warmth from my parents in childhood, but also pressured to conform to familial authority, doubt myself always, and value familial connections above all else (<- failed at this, and feel guilt about it.)

but also in experiencing this i have been so isolated from the entire rest of the world and others, that it will be nearly impossible to create my own "family" -> find safety and comfort in anybody else once my family is Gone. despite dis i find it really difficult to break away from the familiar, disobey and disappoint, because, well, why are my wishes more important than anybody else's. why would I cause upset and distress in anybody, and exert so much effort into my doubt filled half decisions, for my meaningless little Wishes. being away would also mean less time with these people who I'll never see again once they're gone. being raised this way is definitely paying off for those who did so.

the good: yaaaay adjacent inspiration for writing talon lore

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[h3avyhound]

i’m reaching the end of dndads s2 and i have So Many Thoughts and Feelings but i can’t articulate them well enough so im just gonna cry tbh

[koka-mi]

vent under the cut you don't need to read if you don't want to!!!!!!!

I honestly hateee opening up or oversharing with ppl. it's kind of like eating for me where it feels okay in the moment but then afterwards I just feel awful. it feels like I'm attention seeking or saying someone else's experience isn't valid for some reason and it sucks. I don't do it at all with ppl I just met but with friends I tend to get carried away with it sometimes,,,

It hurts even more because I've been distancing myself from ppl bcz I'm scared of this exact thing happening. People have messaged me before, saying I seem cool and they want to be friends. And I get happy in the moment, but then I get really anxious about accidentally getting too comfortable and blurting out personal things, because then their opinion of me will wane and they'll think I'm annoying or ungrateful. So I subconsciously begin to distance myself and take a while when responding to messages, because I'm scared of getting too comfortable with them. But now I'm anxious that they think I'm cold or distant and that I secretly don't like them. It's just a lose lose situation mannn </3

I have so many DMs I've put off responding to, and I've stopped talking in servers as much bcz I'm scared of getting close with ppl in them. I really feel bad for it, though. I've drifted from friends bcz of that and it sucks because I genuinely love them a lot. I love everyone I talk to a lot and they always make my day better--I just wish I could be the same for them. I feel like it's a chore to talk to me. I honestly don't know what to do. It's even worse when I get close to someone bcz they like what I make/post because again, now that they've seen how I really am and I've opened up, they more than likely see me as annoying or a bad person. Like it hurts enough whenever we become friends naturally talking, but if it's with someone who's seen me at my "best" and has seen things I work on or stories I've created, they ofc associate me with those things, and their expectations of me are through the roof. So when I disappoint them it hurts a lot more. I hate getting attached to people it hurts so much

[acourtofquestions]

Boots crunched in hay, and then he was knee to knee before her.

Aedion.

There was nothing kind on his face. No pity or warmth.

For a long minute, they only stared at each other.

Then the prince growled softly, "Your plan was bullshit."

She said nothing, and couldn't stop her shoulders from curving inward.

"Your plan was bullshit," he breathed, his eyes sparking. "How could you ever be her, wear her skin, and think to get away with it? How could you ever think you'd get around the fact that our armies are counting on you to burn the enemy to ashes, and all you can do is run away and emerge as some beast instead?"

"You don't get to pin this retreat on me," she rasped. The first words she'd spoken in days and days.

"You agreed to let Aelin go to her death, and leave us here to be slashed to bloody ribbons. You two told no one of this plan, told none of us who might have explained the realities of this war, and that we would need a gods-damned Fire-Bringer and not an untrained, useless shape-shifter against Morath."

Blow after blow, the words landed upon her weary heart. "We—"

"If you were so willing to let Aelin die, then you should have let her do it after she incinerated Erawan's hordes!"

"It would not have stopped Maeve from capturing her."

"If you'd told us, we might have planned differently, acted differently, and we would not be here, damn you!"

She stared at the muddy hay. "Throw me out of your army, then."

"You ruined everything." His words were colder than the wind outside. "You, and her."

Lysandra closed her eyes.

Hay rustled, and she knew he'd risen to his feet, knew it as his words speared from above her bowed head. "Get out of my tent."

She wasn't certain she could move enough to obey, though she wished to. Needed to. Fight back. She should fight back. Rage at him as he lashed at her, needing an outlet for his fear and despair.

Lysandra opened her eyes, peering up at him. At the rage on his face, the hatred She managed to stand, her body bleating in pain. Managed to look him in the eye, even as Aedion said again with quiet cold, "Get out."

Barefoot in the snow, naked beneath her cloak. Aedion glanced at her bare legs, as if realizing it. And not caring.

So Lysandra nodded, clutching Ansel's cloak tighter, and strode into the frigid night.

"Where is she?" Ren asked, a mug of what smelled like watery soup in one hand, a chunk of bread in the other. The lord scanned the tent as if he would find her under the cot, the hay.

Aedion stared at the precious few logs burning in the brazier, and said nothing.

"What have you done?" Ren breathed.

Everything was about to end. Had been doomed since Maeve had stolen Aelin. Since his queen and the shifter had struck their agreement.

So it didn't matter, what he'd said. He hadn't cared if it wasn't fair, wasn't true.

Didn't care if he was so tired he couldn't muster shame at his pinning on her the blame for the sure defeat they'd face in a matter of days before Perranth's walls.

He wished she'd smacked him, had screamed at him. But she had let him rage. And had walked out into the snow, barefoot.

He'd promised to save Terrasen, to hold the lines. Had done so for years. And yet this test against Morath, when it had counted ... he had failed.

He’d muster the strength to fight again. To rally his men. He just ... he needed to sleep.

Aedion didn't notice when Ren left, undoubtedly in search of the shifter with who he was so damned enamored.

He should summon his Bane commanders. See how they thought to manage this disaster.

But he couldn't. Could do nothing but stare into that fire as the long night passed.

[angelstrawbabie420]

hmm i think i am not coping. very well

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[milo-is-rambling]

I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god

[todayisafridaynight]

Prior to sending the ask I was just guessing what matrophobia meant based on the root words but I looked it up after and went ohhhh and then you confirmed that extra dimension to it and I went OHHHHH

I think that gets to the heart of what I've been thinking about, that bittersweetness, because despite his best efforts... of course he could never end up anything like Yoko, but he still ended up with an abusive "household." Because in addition to Masato ending up how he did, he has to see those same situations play out, feel that same tension in the air between Jo and Ichi, over and over for almost a decade straight.

Like, in a way, he's forced to put himself in Toshio's shoes when that happens. He can't really get through to Jo, in the same way Toshio can't get through to Yoko, but he can try to step in before lasting damage is done, and he can try to make it bearable for his son. You know. Have a nice talk. Treat him to Peking duck. I'm SO normal about the (drawn-out) parallels of those scenes

So then with Jo... he kind of does become his father, even if he never wanted to (no one wants to), both through his ruinous neglect of Masato at birth and through how he comes to look at discipline and corporal punishment. I'm sure it's not lost on him in Masato's case (owww), but with Ichi, it's not like he has any reason to see him as his son... But How Far Can That Take You.

Because it's like, at the start, he was openly beating Ichi in front of Arakawa and not letting up much when Arakawa intervened. But then you have The Yubitsume Scene and Arakawa walking in on All That and... he looks sorry. Sorry for being caught, probably, but sorry nonetheless. Like... what changed between then and now... have you two had a Heartfelt Conversation... do you know where Arakawa got that scar... are you unable to change your "nature" even then...

Side note bro your SHOE is the size of his TORSO I promise you do not need to kick him with all the strength you've got like what the hell is this 😭😭😭

BUT ALL THAT ASIDE thank you so much for delving into the symbolism! Wonderful read. I don't really have an eye for symbolism, so that makes it all the more enjoyable to revisit the comic and everything with what you've gone into. I think a lot of your experiences resonate with mine, so conversely I'm not sure what others would take away from it, BUT I think there's enough there that's so insightful and evocative that it's effective without personal experience. I don't think there's anything I could add, so. Yeah. For once I am happy to sit back and take it all in... On that note, definitely looking forward to your next comic!

AUUUGH YEAAAH YEAHEYA HYEAH THAT EXACTLY OUUUGH OWIEE OWW.....

that's literally it though. like no extra notes. except The Obligatory Few i dont think it was an accident that arakawa is set up as the beginning of the game's 'protagonist' and planting that 'troubled family' taste first thing in our mind. i remember how i felt when i first saw arakawa walk in on jo and ichi and then arakawa taking ichi out for dinner i was just like🧍‍♂️Girl No The Cycle.... It's Continuing...... //screams// LIKE UGH IT WAS SO GOOD BUT ALSO OWWW STOPPP and then on the REPLAY it just hurts more cause with the added context to jo's character its like Oh No...... You're Your Father's Son....

and youre right: jo doesn't have an implicit reason to see how he treats ichi is wrong, hence he similarly doesnt have any reason to stop- not unless arakawa intervenes of course (and i will stand outside my window thinking of the possibility arakawa ever did try to have A Conversation with jo... arms folded behind my back and all like Man™️....)

oh but yeah, absolutely no problem ! im lowkey of an egotist so i do like to talk bout the stuff i make. More In Depth (though thats obvious considering the fuckin essays in the tags i always leave ☠️☠️) gerjlgaELKjg. so i was happy to explain ♪(´▽｀) !! what i like about symbolism is that it can be intentional or not, and the fun is always finding it just by chance. i cant explain it properly, but i just think its a neat 'seasoning' of sorts to drawings (❁´◡`❁)