#and I should’ve just made a PowerPoint...

[badathumanemotions]

Friction (Part 2)

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

MDNI MasterList Category: Fluff and Smut CW: Getting Together, Going On A Date, Smut, Dom/Sub Undertones, Fluff, Teasing, Oral Sex (m rec), Vaginal Sex, Squirting, Breeding Kink, Aftercare WC: 27,329 [Total WC: 52,733] Anonymous asked:

hi can you write a fic about the team is at a bar ( spencer and the reader are “enemies” ) and the readers ex shows up so she makes spencer act like her bf (they kiss 😛) and it results in them getting freaky because they realise their real feelings for each other

Part One Spencer and Reader have to figure out how to deal with the relentless teasing from the team. In the meantime Spencer takes Reader out on a date. (Not Proof Read)

You padded out of the bedroom, Spencer trailing behind you. The apartment was still and quiet, the only sound the soft creaking of the wooden floor beneath your feet. As you made your way into the living room, your eyes caught sight of the scattered remnants of last night—discarded clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.

You bent down, sifting through the pile in search of your phone, and Spencer did the same. The moment your fingers closed around the device, your stomach twisted at the sight of the screen lighting up—multiple missed calls and a slew of unread messages.

"Shit," you muttered, unlocking your phone.

"Oh no," Spencer said at the same time, his brows furrowing as he scrolled through his own notifications.

The texts were from the team.

To You: Emily: Where the hell did you go?? JJ: Are you okay? We lost you last night. Morgan: You better not be waking up in a jail cell. Garcia: I AM TRYING NOT TO PANIC BUT YOU ARE MISSING??!! Emily: Please tell me you just went home. JJ: Just let us know you're alive, okay? Morgan: You better not be passed out in some alley somewhere. Pick up your phone. Garcia: If you don’t answer, I’m hacking a satellite, I swear. And then I’m sending a search party. WITH DRONES.

To Spencer: Emily: Reid? Where’d you disappear to? JJ: Spence, you good? We haven’t seen you since last night. Morgan: Genius, if you got kidnapped, blink twice. Garcia: OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU MISSING TOO?! Emily: This is not like you. Answer your phone. JJ: Please just check in. Morgan: Seriously, Reid, don’t make me come looking. Garcia: WAIT. I JUST TRACKED YOUR PHONE. YOU'RE WITH HER?! ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER?!

You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. "Well… they noticed."

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "We should’ve expected this."

Your eyes flicked to each other’s phones, then back up. "Garcia tracked us. Of course she did."

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She probably already has a PowerPoint titled 'The Unbelievable Yet Completely Predictable Hookup of the Century.'"

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "God, what do we even say?"

You looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between you. You’d spent the whole night wrapped up in each other, lost in something you didn’t fully understand yet. But now, reality was creeping back in, and with it came the inevitable question—what now?

"Do we tell them?" Spencer asked, cautious.

You chewed on your lip. "I don’t know. I mean, we barely know what this is."

His expression softened. "Yeah. Maybe we keep it to ourselves, at least for now."

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "Let’s get some coffee first. We��ll figure it out."

Spencer exhaled, glancing at his phone again. "Garcia already knows. Which means we’re on borrowed time before the rest of them do."

You groaned. "She’s probably drafting the 'So You Two Finally Gave In' email as we speak."

"Or using her tech wizardry to figure out exactly when and where this would happen based on sheer determination and a questionable disregard for privacy," Spencer muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

You shook your head with a tired laugh. "We’re doomed."

He nudged your shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let’s get coffee before the interrogation starts."

As you made your way to the kitchen, the weight of the team’s inevitable questions loomed over you, but for now, you focused on the simple things—the smell of coffee brewing, the warmth of his presence beside you, the quiet promise of whatever this was becoming.

Spencer leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling his coffee mug in both hands. You sat across from him at the small dining table, stirring absentmindedly at your own cup. The air between you was thick with the weight of Garcia's discovery and what it meant for the rest of the team.

"So," he started, his voice hesitant, "what do we do?"

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temple. "Garcia knows, which means everyone else will know soon. If she hasn't already started telling them."

Spencer groaned softly, setting his mug down. "She’s not exactly known for keeping secrets."

You gave him a pointed look. "Understatement of the year."

He huffed a small laugh but quickly sobered. "Do we try to control the narrative? Or just… let it happen?"

You took a sip of your coffee, considering. "If we try to get ahead of it, that means having to tell them. All of them. And that means… questions. Lots of them."

Spencer winced, likely imagining the interrogation that awaited the two of you. "Morgan is never going to let me live this down."

"Oh, absolutely not." You smirked, shaking your head. "And Emily and JJ will be smug about it for months."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know if I have the energy to deal with that right now."

You leaned back in your chair. "So, what? We just act like nothing happened? Hope they don’t bring it up?"

Spencer gave you a flat look. "You really think that’s an option?"

You sighed. "Not a chance."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the reality of the situation sinking in. You wanted to be with him—there was no question about that. But navigating this new relationship under the scrutiny of your team was another matter entirely.

"Maybe we just… confirm it if they ask," you finally said. "We don’t have to make a big announcement. Just—if it comes up, we don’t deny it."

Spencer nodded slowly, mulling it over. "That might be the easiest way. Low effort. Less chaos."

You snorted. "There’s going to be chaos no matter what."

He sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "True."

You reached across the table, letting your fingers brush against his. "We’ll handle it together."

Spencer turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours. "Together."

A comfortable silence settled between you, but it was short-lived as a notification lit up Spencer’s phone on the counter. He glanced at it and groaned. "Garcia just sent a group text. I refuse to read it."

Your phone buzzed a second later. You hesitated before picking it up, already dreading what you’d see.

Garcia: "GOOD MORNING, LOVE BIRDS. 😘 DON’T BOTHER DENYING IT. IT’S HAPPENING. YOU’RE HAPPENING. SO WHEN DO WE GET TO GUSH ABOUT THIS???"

You groaned, setting your phone face-down on the table. "She knows, she’s excited, and we are officially doomed."

Spencer ran a hand through his already-messy hair. "She’s going to be relentless."

"Oh, absolutely." You took another sip of coffee, trying to steel yourself. "And once Morgan finds out…"

Spencer’s head hit the counter with a dull thud. "This is going to be worse than I thought."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over to pat his arm. "At least it’s out there now. Maybe it’ll be easier once the dust settles."

He lifted his head slightly, looking at you with skepticism. "Or it’ll be weeks of teasing and speculation."

You shrugged. "Either way, we’re in it now. We may as well own it."

He exhaled slowly, nodding. "Alright. We answer questions if they ask, but no unnecessary details. We don’t need to give them more ammunition than they already have."

"Agreed." You squeezed his hand briefly before letting go, picking up your mug. "We’ll face the chaos together."

Spencer sat back, watching you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You realize Garcia probably already has a whole board of conspiracy theories about how long this has been going on."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course she does. But at least this way, she doesn’t have to guess anymore."

The two of you sat there, the weight of the inevitable hanging over you, but at least now, you weren’t facing it alone. You had each other. And somehow, that made it all a little easier.

The soft morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the quiet space. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with something unmistakably Spencer—clean, warm, familiar. It should have felt strange, waking up here, sharing this moment with him after everything that had transpired the night before. But it didn’t. It felt… natural. Easy, even. And that was the problem.

Spencer sat across from you, fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, his gaze flicking between you and the phone resting between you on the table. Garcia’s texts were still unanswered, her curiosity undoubtedly growing by the second, but neither of you seemed eager to address them. Not yet.

“I should probably get started on my day,” you finally said, though you made no move to stand.

Spencer exhaled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Me too.” He glanced at you, then down at his mug before adding, "At least we have a three-day weekend."

You blinked, the reminder settling in. Three full days before you had to step back into the BAU, back into the teasing and knowing glances you were sure to face. Three days where, if you wanted to, you could see where this thing with Spencer might go.

A beat of silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. This was the part where things were supposed to go back to normal, where you both stepped away and acted like nothing had changed. Except something had changed. Neither of you could pretend otherwise.

Still, you pushed yourself up from the chair, grabbing your bag. “I’ve got some errands to run.”

Spencer followed your lead, standing as well. “Right. I, uh… I’ve got some things to do too.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, but instead, he simply nodded, a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You hesitated before stepping toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was considering reaching for you, but then he cleared his throat. “Wait.”

You paused, looking back at him. His expression was uncertain for only a moment before he straightened, his voice firmer when he spoke again. “I want to take you on a date. Tomorrow.”

Your breath caught slightly, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “A date?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A real one.” His lips quirked into a small, nervous smile. “No pretending. Just us.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you searched his face. “Okay… where are you taking me?”

His brows furrowed slightly, caught off guard by the question. “I—uh, I was thinking somewhere nice. A restaurant, maybe? Do you have a preference?”

You tilted your head, intrigued by his hesitation. “You didn’t plan this far ahead, did you?”

He exhaled a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was more focused on making sure you’d actually say yes first.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Well, yes, I’m saying yes. But I want details.”

Spencer straightened slightly, his confidence returning. “Alright. There’s this place I read about—small, quiet, great reviews. I think you’ll like it. And after…” His smile turned slightly mischievous. “That part’s a surprise.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “A surprise?”

He nodded. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

You considered it for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest at the idea of him putting thought into this. “Alright. I’ll trust you.”

His relief was evident, his smile growing. “Good. It’s a date, then.”

Before you could respond, he took a small step forward, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. The touch was fleeting, but it sent warmth up your spine. Then, without overthinking it, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips—quick, but deliberate, like he needed to do it before he lost his nerve. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before he gave a small, almost shy smile. Then, with one last glance, he turned and left your place, leaving behind the lingering warmth of his touch and the quiet anticipation of what tomorrow would bring.

You stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting your skin like a much-needed reminder of reality. You had things to do, errands to run—picking out something to wear, making sure you looked your best for tomorrow night. And yet, as you walked away, your thoughts remained tangled in the warmth of his presence, the way he’d looked at you like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

As you moved through your day, checking off errands in preparation for tomorrow, you kept glancing at your phone. No messages from him yet. But every time the screen lit up, your heart stuttered just a little, anticipation curling in your stomach at the thought of your date.

You weren’t sure what came next. But for the first time in a long time, the uncertainty didn’t scare you. It only made you excited for what was to come.

The day passed in a blur of errands and distractions, but no amount of busywork could fully pull your mind from the lingering warmth of Spencer’s touch, the way he’d looked at you before he left. As night settled in, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, the quiet hum of the city outside doing little to settle the energy thrumming beneath your skin.

You turned onto your side, your phone resting on the nightstand—silent, but not forgotten. He hadn’t texted, and neither had you. And yet, the anticipation curled in your chest like an unspoken promise. Tomorrow.

A date.

Your lips curved slightly at the thought, warmth blooming within you. It wasn’t just the idea of the date itself—it was him. Spencer, who had kissed you goodbye like he already knew he’d be kissing you again.

With that thought lingering, you finally let your eyes slip closed, drifting off with the quiet certainty that when you woke, the day ahead would be something worth looking forward to.

The soft buzz of your phone pulled you from the edges of sleep, the early morning light casting a faint glow through your curtains. You groggily reached for your phone, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the screen came into focus. A single message awaited you, and the moment you saw the sender, your heart gave a traitorous little stutter.

Good morning, beautiful.

Warmth spread through your chest, a smile tugging at your lips before you could even think to stop it. Spencer. The simple message sent a ripple of excitement through you, the reality of the day settling in. Today was your date. A real one.

You stretched beneath the covers, savouring the lingering drowsiness as you let yourself replay the events of yesterday—the heat of his touch, the way his hands had traced over your skin, the way his lips had lingered against yours like he never wanted to stop. The way he’d looked at you, like he wasn’t quite ready to go. The way he’d said it wasn’t just pretending. That this was real.

Rolling onto your side, you typed out a reply.

Morning.

You hesitated a moment before adding, Excited for tonight.

It wasn’t an exaggeration. There was a pleasant sort of nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin, a feeling you hadn’t let yourself indulge in for a long time. You had the entire day ahead of you, and already, your thoughts were consumed with what was to come.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you moved through your morning routine with an unusual sense of purpose. As you sipped on your coffee, you glanced at your phone again, checking for a response. Nothing yet—but that was fine. You weren’t going to obsess over it.

Instead, you focused on the errands you had planned. If tonight was going to be special, you wanted to be prepared. You had an outfit to pick out, details to perfect. And if your mind wandered to Spencer more times than you cared to admit, well… that was just part of the anticipation.

As you started getting ready for the evening, your mind kept drifting back to Spencer’s words. He had told you dinner, but beyond that, he’d kept the rest of the night a mystery. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, brushing a final layer of mascara over your lashes, and wondered for the hundredth time what the surprise could be.

Spencer wasn’t the type to do something cliché or over-the-top, but he also had a way of making the simplest things feel special. A bookstore, maybe? A hidden café with live music? A museum exhibit he knew you’d love? The possibilities were endless, and the anticipation only made your excitement grow.

The knock at your door sent a jolt of anticipation through you. You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your outfit before making your way to the door. With a steadying breath, you pulled it open.

Spencer stood there, dressed in a fitted blazer and dark slacks, his hair neatly styled yet still carrying that slightly tousled look that suited him so well. In his hands, he held a small bouquet of flowers, the delicate arrangement carefully chosen.

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared. His gaze travelled over you slowly, as if he was committing every detail to memory, admiration flickering in his wide, awestruck eyes. His throat bobbed with a swallow, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a little rough around the edges.

"You look… incredible." There was something almost reverent in the way he said it, his eyes still lingering as if he couldn't quite believe you had dressed up like this—for him.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you found yourself smiling despite the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. Your eyes flicked to the flowers, and something tender unfurled in your heart. "Spencer, these are lovely. Thank you."

His mouth quirked in amusement, though his gaze still held that lingering admiration. "I thought you'd like them."

You accepted the bouquet, inhaling their light fragrance before setting them aside carefully. "You clean up well yourself, Dr. Reid."

His amusement deepened, but there was still that undercurrent of lingering awe in his expression. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, stepping outside as he offered his arm in a way that felt both old-fashioned and entirely Spencer. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you towards the night ahead.

Spencer led you to his car, and before you could reach for the handle, he swiftly stepped ahead, opening the door for you. The gentlemanly gesture sent a small thrill through you, and as you slid into the seat, you couldn't help but smile.

As he settled in beside you, you glanced over with a teasing smile. "So, did you research the perfect first-date flowers? Let me guess—there’s some historical significance to these?"

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. "I considered a few different options, but I ultimately chose these because they symbolize admiration and new beginnings. Seemed fitting."

You raised an eyebrow. "So you did research it."

He shot you a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Would you rather I just grabbed the first bouquet I saw?"

You hummed in thought. "No, I suppose not. But tell me, Dr. Reid, are you nervous?"

Spencer's fingers flexed subtly on the steering wheel. "Not at all. Are you?"

You tilted your head, considering. "Not in the least."

His smirk deepened. "Good. Then let's see if I can keep surprising you."

As the car pulled onto the road, you cast him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at your lips. "You behind the wheel is a rare sight. I was half-expecting to have to drive."

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh. "Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to drive. I just prefer other modes of transportation."

"Mmm, like bothering JJ or Morgan for rides?"

"Or utilizing public transit, which is far more efficient in most cases," he countered smoothly.

You bit back a grin. "Right. But tonight, you’re playing chauffeur. A very handsome, well-dressed chauffeur."

His fingers tapped idly against the wheel as he stole a glance at you. "If that’s the case, then I expect a generous tip."

You pretended to consider. "I suppose that depends on the quality of service."

His smirk deepened. "I’ll just have to make sure you're thoroughly impressed, then."

You shook your head, laughing softly as the city lights blurred past. The night was still young, and something told you Spencer was going to keep you on your toes every step of the way.

When you arrived at the restaurant, Spencer once again moved ahead to open your door for you, extending a hand to help you out. The warm touch of his fingers around yours sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and as you stepped onto the pavement, you glanced up at the softly lit entrance of the restaurant.

The atmosphere inside was intimate, the soft hum of conversation mingling with gentle music. As the host led you to your table, Spencer pulled out your chair for you, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your heart flutter.

You settled in, glancing around before turning to him with a curious smile. "You put a lot of thought into this place, didn't you?"

Spencer shrugged, though the satisfaction in his expression was unmistakable. "You once mentioned you appreciate places with a good atmosphere, and I thought their menu had a few things that might catch your interest."

You shook your head, amusement dancing in your gaze. "You really do remember everything, don’t you?"

He leaned forward slightly, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Especially when it comes to you."

Heat crept up your neck, and you picked up your menu in an attempt to disguise the effect his words had on you. "Well, let's see if your choice lives up to the hype."

Spencer chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as the evening unfolded, every detail adding another layer to the undeniable pull between you both.

After ordering, conversation flowed with an effortless ease, laced with teasing remarks and lingering glances. Spencer’s natural charm, when unguarded, was disarming, and you found yourself drawn into him more with every passing moment.

When the waiter placed your drinks on the table, Spencer raised his glass slightly, his hazel eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "To new beginnings."

You tapped your glass against his, the soft chime lingering in the air between you. "And to being thoroughly impressed."

He smirked, tilting his head as he studied you. "I get the feeling that’s not an easy feat."

You took a slow sip of your drink, meeting his gaze over the rim. "Keep trying, genius."

His eyes darkened slightly at the challenge, and he leaned in just enough that your knees brushed beneath the table. "Oh, I intend to."

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could formulate a response, the food arrived, breaking the moment—but not the tension.

The night was far from over, and if Spencer’s lingering gaze was anything to go by, he had no intention of letting you slip through his fingers so easily.

As your food arrived, Spencer continued to impress you—not just with the thoughtfulness of the restaurant choice but with the way he paid attention. He remembered small details, your preferences, and even the way you liked certain flavours combined. It was impossible not to be charmed by the way he made you feel completely seen.

Between bites, you challenged him with playful quips, and he met you head-on with his own clever retorts, the two of you locked in a battle of wit and flirtation. It was different now—lighter, without the sharp edges of past arguments. Now, it was all charged energy and lingering glances, and the way his knee brushed against yours under the table didn't feel like an accident.

And when he reached across the table, fingers lightly grazing yours as he stole a bite from your plate with a smirk, you knew—this wasn’t just a date. This was something deeper, something neither of you could deny anymore.

After dessert—because of course Spencer had insisted you try something he’d read glowing reviews about—the two of you lingered at the table, neither in a hurry to leave. The hum of conversation around you faded into the background as Spencer traced a finger along the rim of his glass, his gaze steady on you.

"I think this proves I know what I’m doing," he mused, tilting his head slightly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Because you picked a great restaurant? You get credit, but I’m not convinced just yet."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Not convinced?"

"Mhm. I’ll need further evidence before I declare this a success."

Spencer hummed, setting his glass down. "Then I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, won’t I?"

The weight of his words hung between you, something unspoken but understood. Your heartbeat quickened slightly as you held his gaze, the air thick with the kind of tension that neither of you wanted to break.

Eventually, Spencer signalled for the bill, and before you could protest, he was already placing his card down, offering you a look that dared you to argue. You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Fine. But only because I fully intend to make you earn it."

He chuckled, pocketing his receipt. "Noted. And what exactly am I earning?"

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to consider. "Oh, I don’t know… maybe a goodnight kiss. But only if you really impress me."

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, now I have even more incentive to make sure the night goes perfectly."

The night air was crisp as you stepped outside, the quiet hum of the city settling around you. Spencer hesitated for a moment before slipping his hand to the small of your back, guiding you toward the car. The touch was light, but it sent warmth curling through you.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked as he once again opened the car door for you.

You met his gaze, a slow smile tugging at your lips. "I did."

Spencer’s expression softened slightly before he cleared his throat, a flicker of something—relief?—crossing his face. "Good. Because the night’s not over yet."

You settled into your seat, curiosity sparking in your chest. "Oh?"

He rounded the car and slid in beside you, starting the engine with an easy confidence. "I have one more surprise for you."

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t question it. Instead, you let anticipation settle over you as the city lights blurred past once more.

Wherever he was taking you next, you had a feeling he was about to exceed expectations.

As the car rolled through the quiet streets, the city lights flickered against the windows, casting a soft glow over the interior. Spencer’s hand rested casually on the wheel, his eyes flicking to you every so often, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The air between you was charged, each second stretching out just a little longer, filled with a quiet anticipation neither of you quite acknowledged.

The car slowed as it turned onto a smaller street, and then, just ahead, the silhouette of the planetarium rose against the darkened sky. You couldn’t help the surprised gasp that slipped from your lips, your eyes widening as you took it in. It wasn’t like you’d ever been here before, but something about the way it stood against the night, so unassuming but regal, made your pulse quicken.

"You’re kidding," you murmured, half in disbelief.

Spencer didn’t answer immediately, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he guided the car into a parking spot. "Thought you might like it."

You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You really know how to surprise a girl."

He was already out of his seat before you had a chance to reach for the door handle.

A soft click, and the door swung open. Spencer stood there, offering his hand, the dim glow of the streetlights casting shadows over his features. His expression was unreadable at first, but then his lips quirked into something small, something knowing.

"I try," he said, his voice low.

You stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you followed him to the building. There was a quiet elegance to the way he moved, like he was completely at ease. It made you feel a little out of place, and yet, strangely at home all at once.

The planetarium loomed ahead, silent and waiting. But the moment you stepped inside, it became clear—this wasn’t an ordinary visit.

The space was empty. The hush of the planetarium settled over you like a veil, amplifying the quiet click of the theatre doors closing behind you. Spencer’s hand hovered just at the small of your back—not quite touching, but guiding, a barely-there reminder of how close he was. The air felt heavier, charged, as realization settled in.

He’d arranged this. A private showing.

Your gaze flicked to him, but Spencer only watched you, his expression unreadable at first—then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, that same knowing glint in his eyes.

Without a word, Spencer stepped ahead slightly and gestured toward one of the plush reclining seats in the centre of the theatre. His touch, light but deliberate, skimmed over the curve of your waist as he guided you toward it. You felt the warmth of his hand even through the fabric of your clothes, the barely-there pressure sending a quiet thrill up your spine.

With a quiet certainty, Spencer extended a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours before he guided you toward one of the plush reclining seats. "Here," he murmured, his voice low, rich. "Let me help you." His touch was gentle yet assured, the quiet insistence of a gentleman as he waited for you to settle. "Get comfortable."

You settled into the seat, and only once you were in place did Spencer take the one beside you. The moment stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Then, with a subtle movement, the lights dimmed further, and the vast dome overhead came to life with an endless sea of stars.

Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something softer, something meant just for you. "Cassiopeia was placed in the heavens as punishment for her vanity. The gods ensured she would spend eternity upside down for daring to claim she was more beautiful than the Nereids." His fingers twitched slightly as he gestured upward, his other hand resting casually on the armrest between you—close, but not quite touching.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the way his features softened in the faint glow. He was in his element here, effortlessly charming in a way that sent warmth curling low in your stomach.

You should’ve been looking at the constellations. Instead, you found yourself watching him.

And he—he was looking at you.

Not just glancing—watching, as if he were committing every detail to memory. The glow of the stars reflected in his eyes, but it wasn’t the projection above that had him spellbound. His fingers twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach out, but he caught himself, curling his hand into a loose fist against his thigh.

Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and reverent.

"That’s Cygnus," he murmured, gesturing toward the delicate stretch of stars above. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it wrapped around you, steady and certain. "The swan. Some say it’s Orpheus, transformed after death, placed in the sky so he could sing forever."

His gaze flickered toward the constellation, but only briefly—almost like he had to remind himself to look away from you.

He led you through the stories slowly, each word carrying the weight of something ancient, something untouchable. But there was something else beneath his voice—a quiet disbelief, a reverence not for the myths themselves, but for the moment. For the fact that he was here, with you, in this quiet, suspended space where time didn’t seem to exist.

His hand brushed yours, the barest whisper of warmth. Not an accident. Not this time.

His voice softened, something unreadable crossing his features.

"Andromeda and Perseus."

You swallowed, pulse thrumming at your throat.

He didn’t look away this time.

"She was chained to the rocks, waiting to die," he murmured. "Punished for something she had no part in. But Perseus… he didn’t just save her. He freed her. He fought for her."

A slow breath, like he was steadying himself. His fingers traced lightly over the back of your hand, reverent.

"And they weren’t just a fleeting love story. They lived—together, side by side. A full life. A whole life."

The stars spun slowly overhead, but Spencer wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure if this was real. Like if he reached for you, he might wake up and find himself alone.

His thumb swept over your knuckles, a barely-there touch, and you felt the weight of it everywhere.

"They’re still up there," he whispered. "Not because they died… but because they lived."

You exhaled shakily, and his gaze flicked to your lips before he caught himself, looking away too quickly. But his fingers didn’t leave yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The stars above carried on, spinning silently, but everything else felt still.

You turned your gaze back to the constellations, feeling the weight of his attention linger. When you glanced at him again, you caught it—the wonderment in his eyes, the softness that wasn’t there before. He looked at you like you were part of the sky itself, like the stars had descended just to rest in your gaze. He smiled faintly, almost to himself.

"I never thought I'd be here like this with you," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "But I'm glad I am." His gaze swept over your face, lingering. "It’s funny… the stars are beautiful, but I think the way your eyes glow when you look at them is even more breathtaking."

Your breath caught, a slow, simmering warmth stirring beneath his words, and you found you couldn’t quite look away. There was a tenderness to the way he watched you, something fragile and breathtaking.

He continued to speak, his voice a soft, lulling cadence as he named constellations and traced their stories. You listened, letting the sound of his words settle over you like a hush, each name and myth feeling like a secret shared only with you. You didn’t catch every detail—some part of you too lost in the moment, in him—but it didn’t matter. His voice, the low murmur of it, was enough.

It felt like the kind of moment you’d tuck away and carry with you, a quiet kind of magic. Something romantic, though neither of you said it aloud. You wondered if he felt it too—the pull between you, as vast and inevitable as the stars overhead.

As you both stepped out of the planetarium, the night air hit you with a coolness that contrasted with the warmth you felt lingering from the show. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but none of them seemed to shine quite as brightly as the moment you just shared. It was like the world had softened, everything taking on a golden hue, a quiet, glowing magic you couldn’t quite explain.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but in that moment, you wanted him. You didn’t need words. Without thinking, you turned to face Spencer, the space between you feeling too wide for comfort.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, the weight of everything unsaid between you settling in the air. You took a step closer, your hand finding the curve of his jaw, gently pulling him down to meet you.

The kiss was immediate, natural, as if you’d been doing this for years instead of the few stolen moments you’d shared together. It was warm, urgent, full of the tension that had been simmering under the surface ever since the first touch. His lips were soft against yours, but it didn’t take long before they turned hungry, deepening as he pulled you in closer. The kiss felt almost desperate, like the world around you had faded, leaving only the two of you in a shared, fiery space.

Spencer’s hand slid from your waist, moving to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair and holding you steady. You gasped into the kiss as his other hand drifted lower, sliding slowly down the outside of your thigh. The heat of his palm against your bare skin was a shock to your senses, sending a shiver through you. Without thinking, your hand moved to his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your touch.

You deepened the kiss, pressing yourself against him, and his hand shifted lower still, settling on the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him. The contact sent a rush of heat through you, a delicious pressure that made you want more, need more.

He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his lips brushing against yours as he leaned his forehead against yours. His chest heaved, just as yours did, both of you still struggling to catch your breath.

“God, you’re killing me,” Spencer muttered, his voice rough and low, and you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or desire lacing his words.

You felt the same, your body still thrumming from the kiss, from the touch. You wanted to keep going, to let the moment drag on forever, but you couldn’t ignore the pull of the car and the inevitable drive back.

“Let’s get in the car,” he said, voice almost a command, but his fingers lingered on your skin as if reluctant to let go.

You nodded, but before you could turn to walk to the car, Spencer’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you back to him in one smooth motion. His lips crashed against yours again, even more demanding this time, the kiss melting all your restraint away. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer as you felt the intensity of the moment rise again. There was no slowing down, no pulling back now.

When he finally broke the kiss, you both stood there, breathless, for a beat longer than necessary. Spencer’s hand lingered at the small of your back, the heat from his touch igniting a fire deep inside you.

Without another word, he helped you into the car, the cool leather seat seeming impossibly colder after the heat between you two. He slid in beside you, the space between you still charged with that same electric tension.

As he drove, his fingers brushed over your knee absentmindedly, the touch light but deliberate. Your body hummed with the aftermath of the kiss, every inch of you still alive with the sensations he caused. The drive felt like it took forever, the quiet of the night outside only making the distance between you seem larger than it really was. Every so often, you could feel his gaze flicker to you, dark and intent.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of your heart. The air in the car was thick with the promise of something more, something neither of you had ever admitted out loud. And so, without a word, you let your legs fall open just a fraction more, the leather seat cool against your skin. Your skirt, a dark whisper of fabric, slid up your thighs, revealing the softness beneath.

Spencer’s eyes flickered downward, his gaze catching on the newly exposed flesh. His hand paused on your knee for a second before it began to trace upward, the slow, deliberate movement of a man who knew exactly what he was doing—what he wanted. The heat of his fingertips was like a brand against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt your breath catch as his hand slid up your thigh, the fabric of your skirt whispering against your skin as it slid higher.

The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers through your body. You bit your bottom lip to keep from gasping out loud, your eyes slipping closed for a moment. The sound of the car’s engine was a low thrum in the background, the only noise in the otherwise silent vehicle.

Spencer’s hand continued its ascent, his fingertips lightly brushing the fabric of your panties. The anticipation was a coil in your stomach, tightening with every inch his hand travelled. You felt yourself lean into the touch, your body craving more.

With a gentle pressure, he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the damp heat of your folds. You held your breath as he touched you, the first contact of his skin against yours making you shiver. His ring finger traced the length of your slit, the pad of it finding your clit and making you gasp. He took the sound as a cue to press down, his touch feather-light but firm enough to elicit a reaction.

Your hand found its way to his thigh, gripping tightly as he began to rub in slow, steady circles. The sensation was almost unbearable, a sweet agony that made you arch into his touch. You could feel his eyes on you, watching the play of emotions across your face as you struggled not to let the moan building in your chest escape.

With a sudden urgency, Spencer’s fingers slid inside you, filling you up in a way that made your eyes roll back. He groaned at the wetness that greeted him, his movements matching the rhythm of his thumb now on your clit. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep your voice down as the pleasure built, your body tightening with every stroke.

Your hips rocked against his hand, a silent plea for more. His touch was firm and sure, the pads of his fingers finding every spot that made you shiver and moan. It was like he’d studied you, knew every inch of your body, every secret that made you fall apart. You couldn’t believe this was happening—that you were here, with him, and that he was touching you like this.

The sound of your breathing filled the car, each gasp and whimper echoing off the windows, a stark contrast to the quiet night outside. Spencer’s eyes remained on the road, his focus unwavering despite the distraction of his hand between your legs. It was a testament to his control, a promise of what was to come.

His fingers danced inside you, curling and stroking with a skill that was both maddening and exhilarating. Every movement was calculated, designed to build the tension that coiled low in your belly. You felt yourself growing wetter, the slickness of your arousal making your skin stick to the cool leather of the seat. It was a delicious kind of discomfort, a reminder of the need building between your thighs.

You squirmed, the sensation of his touch growing more intense with each passing second. It didn’t matter that you were in a car, that the world was rushing by outside—all that existed was the heat of his hand, the pressure of his fingers. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the sounds that wanted to escape. But it was useless. You were too lost, too far gone.

Before you knew it, the car had come to a stop, and Spencer’s hand was withdrawing, the loss of contact leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You opened your eyes to find him watching you, his gaze dark and hungry. He didn’t say a word as he helped you adjust your clothing, his movements gentle but firm.

You groaned at the loss of stimulation, but the ache between your legs was a sweet reminder of what was to come. Your entire body was strung tight with anticipation, your breaths coming in short, shallow pants. You knew you were close to getting what you really wanted—what you both wanted.

Spencer simply said "patience," his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He gave you one last lingering look, a silent promise of more before getting out of the car. You watched him move with that same fluid grace you'd seen in the planetarium, the moonlight casting his features shadows. He was like a statue come to life, all muscles and angles, and your body responded to the sight of him, the ache between your legs growing.

When he opened your door and offered his hand to help you out, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in some kind of dream—a steamy, erotic fantasy where the intellectual banter turned into something far more primal and consuming. You took his hand, letting him guide you out of the car. His grip was firm, grounding, a contrast to the tremble in your own legs. The cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire he’d stoked within you.

Spencer didn’t say anything as he led you to your front door, his hand still holding on to yours. The moment the door was open, you didn’t bother with the lights. The moon was enough to guide you through the darkness, casting everything in a soft, seductive glow.

Without hesitation you boldly shimmied out of your dress, letting it pool at your feet. The chilly air kissed your skin as you stepped out of the fabric, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. You didn’t bother looking back—you knew Spencer was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. You felt his gaze like a physical touch, sending goosebumps skittering down your spine.

You sauntered away, your hips swaying with an unspoken challenge. The moon’s soft light traced your figure, casting a silver glow on your skin, making you look like a goddess of the night. Your bra and panties were the only barriers between you and his hungry eyes, and you knew it was driving him wild.

As you entered the bedroom, you felt his gaze on you like a physical caress. The room was bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon. You turned to face him, your heart racing as he followed you in, his eyes dark with desire. The anticipation was a thrum in the air, a palpable force that made your skin tingle.

And then, he strode over, closing the distance between you in a single purposeful step. His hand cupped the back of your neck, and before you could even catch your breath, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was gentle. His tongue slid against yours, a dance of passion and need that seemed to go on forever, the heat of his body enveloping you as if he could absorb you into himself.

The room was a blur of shadows and moonlight, but it was Spencer that was the brightest star in your universe. His touch was everywhere—his hands roaming over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his mouth a brand against yours that you felt in every fibre of your being. You melted into his embrace, letting the sensations wash over you like a warm wave, pulling you deeper into the moment.

He tugged at your bra, and it fell away, leaving your breasts exposed to the cool air. He paused, his eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you shiver, before he bent to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing until you moaned. His hands were everywhere—his fingers tracing the lines of your ribs, the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips. He seemed to be memorizing you, learning every inch of your body like it was a sacred text.

And you, you couldn’t get enough. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, down his back, feeling the taut muscles that shifted and flexed under your touch. You wanted to devour him, to feel him against you in every way possible. His own clothes came off with the same urgency.

With a growl, Spencer pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours. The mattress dipped under the weight of you both, the fabric cool and soft against your skin. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, nipping and kissing a trail that made you arch your back and gasp.

He slid your panties off, revealing your wetness to the air. His eyes flashed with hunger before his mouth was on you, his tongue tracing the edges of your folds, teasing your clit with feather-light flicks that had you writhing beneath him. You gripped the sheets, trying to hold on to something as the world spun away. His mouth felt like heaven, his touch like the answer to every unspoken prayer.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with lust. You could feel the vibration of his words against your sensitive flesh, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that was insatiable. You bucked against his face, your hips moving in a silent plea for more.

The bed rocked as he settled between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. His mouth was relentless, his tongue swirling and lapping, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. You could feel the orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every touch, every kiss. You were so close, so close to the precipice that you could almost taste it.

"I'm so close. If you stop this time," you breathed out, your voice low and filled with humour, "I'm going to kill you."

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with mirth as he took in your flushed cheeks and the desperation in your voice. He knew you weren’t being serious—not really—but the playful threat in your words only served to make him more determined. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your wet skin, and whispered, “Oh, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

With that, he went back to his task with renewed vigour, his tongue swirling and dipping, his lips sucking gently. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body bowing under the onslaught of pleasure. You gripped the sheets harder, your knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to push him away, to drag him closer, to do anything to make the feeling last forever.

And then, when the moment was right, Spencer slid his fingers into you, aiming straight for your G-spot. You gasped at the suddenness of it, your body jolting as he hit the spot with unerring precision. The sensation was like a spark that ignited a fuse, sending waves of pleasure shooting through you.

You could no longer hold back the whines and moans that had been building in your throat. They spilled out into the night, a symphony of need that seemed to resonate through the very air around you. His mouth and fingers worked in tandem, pushing you higher and higher until you felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces.

The climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. Your body tightened around his fingers, your muscles clenching as the orgasm washed over you. You could feel your juices coating his skin, and the thought only served to make the sensation more intense.

As the last spasms of pleasure receded, Spencer pulled back, his eyes shining with victory and something else—admiration, maybe? You couldn’t be sure. But the look on his face was one of pure reverence, as if you were some kind of goddess that had just allowed him a taste of heaven.

You watched him, panting and flushed, as he moved over you. His skin was slick with sweat, the moonlight playing across the planes of his chest, casting him in an ethereal glow. For a moment, he just hovered above you, his breaths heavy, his eyes locked on yours. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a soft rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth.

"You’re not just beautiful… you’re celestial. Like you were born from the night sky itself."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as Spencer’s eyes searched yours. His pupils were wide, dark pools that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe—and for a moment, you felt like you were drowning in them. The room spun around you, the only constant the steady beat of your heart and the heat of his gaze.

And then, he was moving again, his body sliding against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You felt the tip of his erection nudge against your entrance, and it was all you could do not to beg for more. But you didn’t have to—Spencer knew exactly what you needed. With one swift thrust, he filled you completely, the sensation of him inside you making your eyes roll back in your head.

He paused for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust, to breathe. You felt him, thick and hard, stretching you in a way that was both exquisite and overwhelming. You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing against the walls of your pussy, and the sensation was almost too much to handle. But you didn’t want it to stop—you never wanted it to stop.

You reached up and placed a hand on the back of his neck, guiding his mouth to yours in a silent plea for more. Spencer didn’t need any encouragement. His lips claimed yours with a fiery passion that left you gasping, his tongue delving deep as he began to move, his hips setting a rhythm that had you rising to meet him.

The sensation was like nothing you’d ever felt before—like your entire world had been reduced to the point where you were joined. The bed groaned in protest under the force of your movements, the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady, insistent beat that matched the pounding of your heart. You could feel yourself building again, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere, on your breasts, your hips, your ass—guiding you, urging you closer to that sweet oblivion that beckoned. His thrusts grew more demanding, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings that seemed to carry the weight of the universe.

You felt yourself begin to climb again, the sensation of him inside you more intense than ever. His strokes grew longer, his rhythm unrelenting, each movement bringing you closer to that precipice you’d been teetering on. You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity that crackled between your bodies. It was like you were made for this—for each other—like every moment of your life had led to this perfect storm of passion.

You watched as his cock slid in and out of you, the slickness of your desire making his skin glisten in the moonlight. The sight was almost too much, your eyes going wide as you took in every inch of him, his length, his girth, the way he filled you so completely. Your inner muscles clenched around him, a silent invitation for him to go deeper, to never stop.

Each stroke sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, making your toes curl and your back arch. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were here, with Spencer, feeling this connection that seemed to transcend the physical. His eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and focused, as if he was trying to see into the very depths of your soul.

The rhythm grew faster, the sounds of your skin slapping against his and the wet noises of your union filling the room. Spencer’s breathing grew ragged, his face a picture of pure concentration as he watched you climb towards your peak. His thumb found your clit again, playing with it in a way that had your eyes rolling back in your head, stars exploding behind your closed lids.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he demanded, his voice a gruff whisper. It was a command, but also a question, a need for you to put into words the symphony of sensations that played through your body with each stroke of his cock.

You obeyed, your voice a breathless pant as you whispered, “Good isn’t enough, Spencer. You make me feel alive. Like every nerve in my body is on fire, like I’m floating on air and drowning in pleasure all at once.” Each word was a confession, a revelation of how deeply he affected you.

He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before snapping open again, his gaze locked on yours as if he was afraid to miss a single second of this shared moment. His hips sped up, his strokes growing more insistent, more demanding. His thumb circled your clit, pressing harder, faster, and you felt your orgasm building once more, like a crescendo that you couldn’t hold back.

“Tell me,” he said again, his voice low and commanding, his eyes searching yours. “I want to hear it. I need to know how good it feels when I’m inside you, making you come apart around me.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, your body trembling with the effort of holding back the words. But you knew he needed to hear them, needed to know that he was the one who did this to you. So you spoke, your voice raw with passion.

"You feel so deep, so perfect, like you’re claiming every part of me. Like you own me." Your voice broke on a gasp as you clung to him, nails biting into his shoulders. "I don’t ever want you to stop. I don’t think I could survive it."

His response was a feral groan, his hips bucking harder, driving into you with an urgency that spoke of a hunger that could never truly be sated. Your breaths grew shorter, your body tightening around him like a vise. The pressure grew, the tension coiling like a spring about to snap.

And then, with a few desperate thrusts, you were there falling over the edge, screaming out his name as your orgasm crashed over you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before—a white-hot explosion that sent waves of pleasure through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

But Spencer wasn’t finished. His eyes burned with an intensity that seemed almost feral as he looked down at you, his hips still moving with a purpose that was unmistakable. You could feel his cock pulse inside you, feel his own release building with each stroke. And in that moment, all you wanted was for him to let go, for him to fill you up with everything he had to give.

In a pleasure-drunk haze, you whispered the words that had been dancing on the tip of your tongue. “Cum in me, Spencer. I need it. I need all of you, please… fill me up." Your voice was a needy whine, raw with desperation.

Hearing your plea, Spencer’s control snapped. He growled, the sound primal and possessive, and his hips began to piston into you, his strokes deep and powerful. You could feel his cock swell even more inside you, the pressure building until it was almost too much to bear.

And then, with a final roar of pleasure, he did as you asked—his seed spilling into you in hot, thick spurts that filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming, a rush of heat and fullness that seemed to go on forever. Your muscles clenched around him, milking every drop as if trying to hold onto him for as long as possible.

As your bodies stilled, Spencer collapsed onto you, his breaths coming in heaving gasps, his heart racing against your chest. You could feel his weight, the reassuring warmth of his body, the sticky sweat that melded your skin together. For a moment, you just lay there, panting and trembling, basking in the aftermath of what had just transpired.

Then, with a gentle smile, Spencer rolled off of you, taking care not to break the connection entirely. He pulled you into his arms, your legs tangling together, your breaths mingling as you both tried to find your bearings. The room was silent, save for the distant sound of a car passing by outside, the occasional creak of the bed, and the steady beat of your hearts.

You looked up at him, his face a canvas of pleasure and contentment. The moon had shifted slightly, casting a new pattern of shadows across his skin. You traced one with your finger, watching as it danced over the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. He leaned into your touch, a purr of satisfaction rumbling in his throat.

“That was…” he started, his voice gravelly with the aftermath of passion.

You smiled softly, finishing for him, "Incredible."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, his eyes glimmering as they met yours. "Yeah. That’s one word for it."

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable but intimate, filled with quiet understanding. You lay there, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. His hand drifted along your back, fingertips tracing your spine with a delicate touch.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead.

You nodded, a small hum of affirmation. "Better than okay."

His hand paused, cradling the back of your head as if he could hold you together with just his touch. "Good. I just… I want this to be good for you. For us."

"It is," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "It is."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, his lips warm against your skin. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "You should use the bathroom," he said gently, his concern evident. "Just to be safe."

You smiled at the thoughtfulness, brushing your fingers over his arm. "You're right. I'll be right back."

As you slipped out of bed, Spencer watched you go with a fondness that warmed the air between you. He rose as well, pulling on his boxers and heading into the kitchen. By the time you returned, he had two glasses of water waiting on the nightstand.

"Figured you'd be thirsty," he said, offering you one with a soft smile.

You accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip before setting it down. "You're too good to me."

He chuckled, climbing back into bed and pulling you close once more. "Just looking out for you."

You settled into his embrace, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Tonight was… amazing. Not just this, but the whole night. The date, the way you made me feel. It was easy with you. Natural."

Spencer’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your back. "I wanted it to be that way. I wanted you to feel… comfortable. Wanted. Because you are."

Your fingers found his, intertwining them. "You make me feel… like I don't have to try so hard. Like I'm enough."

He squeezed your hand, his voice a soft murmur against your hair. "You are. You always are."

There was a pause, a quiet stretch of time where neither of you moved. Then, without words, he pulled the blanket over the two of you, tucking it around your bodies. His arms stayed tight around you, and you nestled closer, finding solace in the solid line of his body.

The exhaustion crept in slowly, your limbs heavy, your thoughts hazy but content. Spencer’s fingers stroked through your hair, slow and soothing, lulling you toward sleep.

"Sleep," he whispered. "I've got you."

And you did, sinking into the warmth of him, letting the world fade away until there was nothing but the steady beat of his heart and the soft rhythm of his breath.

Morning light crept gently into the room, casting soft shadows across the bed. Spencer stirred first, eyes blinking open to the sight of you still sleeping beside him. Your features were relaxed, lips slightly parted, hair splayed across the pillow in soft waves. A quiet contentment settled over him. He wanted to keep this moment, to hold onto it, but even more than that, he wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Sweet.

Breakfast in bed.

Carefully, he slid out from under the blanket, moving with slow precision to avoid waking you. He paused by the doorway, taking one last look at you before stepping into the kitchen, determination settling in his chest. How hard could it be?

Turns out, harder than expected.

He started with coffee, thinking it safe. Only, the machine sputtered oddly, refusing to brew as smoothly as it should. He frowned, poking at it like that might encourage better performance. When the coffee finally dripped through, it was weaker than expected but passable. He’d just… add more sugar. That would fix it, right?

The eggs were next. Spencer cracked the first one with too much force, half of it splattering onto the counter. He muttered under his breath, cleaning it up quickly before trying again. The second egg cracked better, though some shell slipped into the bowl. He tried fishing it out with his fingers but only made it worse, the slippery bit of shell evading him like a taunt.

"Okay," he murmured, squinting in concentration. He reached for a spoon, finally prying the shell free with a triumphant huff. The small victory felt satisfying—until he realized he’d already let the pan heat too long. The butter burned in an angry sizzle, smoke curling up as if mocking him. He rushed to toss it, opening the window to wave the smoke out.

"Great start," he muttered.

The toast was another misadventure. He set it to medium, turned his back for half a second, and it came out more charred than crisp. He hesitated, then decided maybe if he just scraped off the blackened bits, it would be fine. Rustic. That sounded right. Rustic.

By the time he was done, the kitchen looked like a minor war zone. Eggshells littered the counter, the faint smell of smoke lingered, and the toast… well, it wasn’t black anymore, but it wasn’t exactly golden either. The coffee looked questionable, the eggs a little overcooked. Still, he plated it carefully, determined to follow through.

He placed everything on a tray, hesitating only a moment before grabbing a single flower from the vase on your table. A nice touch, he thought. Maybe it would distract from everything else.

When he returned to the bedroom, you were already stirring, eyes fluttering open as you turned towards him. Your gaze softened, sleep still lingering in your expression.

Spencer smiled, though it was tinged with nerves. "Good morning," he greeted, placing the tray gently on the nightstand. "I… thought I’d surprise you with breakfast."

You blinked at the tray, then back at him. Your lips twitched, though you held it back admirably.

"This is… such a sweet surprise," you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling at your waist. "You didn’t have to."

"I wanted to," he said quickly. "I thought… well, after last night, you deserved something nice. Even if I’m not exactly a chef." He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "And the coffee might be a little weak. The toast is, um, rustic. And the eggs are… edible?"

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and affectionate. "It’s perfect," you said, though your smile gave you away.

"You’re a terrible liar," Spencer chuckled, but his eyes were fond. "But I appreciate it."

You reached for the coffee first, taking a cautious sip. Your expression twitched, but you swallowed it without complaint. Then you picked up the toast, eyeing it as though it might crumble into dust with one wrong move.

"It’s definitely… crunchy," you said, and the laugh that followed was free and bright.

Spencer groaned but grinned, rubbing a hand down his face. "I swear, my brain is good for a lot of things. Cooking just isn’t one of them."

"You get points for effort," you teased, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers through his. "And honestly? The thought means more than perfect eggs."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "I’ll take you out for real breakfast later. Something with less… burnt bread."

"Deal." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "But this is still my favourite breakfast so far."

He tilted his head, catching your lips with his. Slow. Sweet. The kind of kiss that lingered, tasting of morning and promise. When you finally pulled back, Spencer’s eyes searched yours, like he was memorizing the moment.

"Next time, I'll just bring you coffee," he murmured, though his smile was playful.

"As long as you’re the one bringing it," you said, settling back into the pillows. "It’ll be perfect."

Spencer settled back against the pillows, his arm curling around you like it belonged there. His skin was warm, his body solid as you pressed close, letting the sheets drape loosely over you. His fingertips traced slow, lazy patterns along your spine, the kind of touch that wasn’t in a hurry to be anything but soft and steady.

You pressed your face into the curve of his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “You didn’t have to try so hard,” you said, voice low, lazy.

“I wanted to,” he murmured, his breath brushing over your hair. His fingers traced up, slow and thoughtful, until they skimmed along the back of your neck. “For you.”

The way he said it made warmth bloom low in your chest. You tilted your head, lifting your gaze to his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His eyes lingered on you—your mouth, your cheek, the soft curve of your shoulder. His hand slid up, fingertips brushing along your jaw, light but certain.

You leaned in, and his lips met yours like it was inevitable.

It started soft, slow, but it didn’t stay that way. His mouth opened against yours, his hand sliding into your hair, fingers tangling and tugging, angling your head the way he wanted. You sighed into him, your hand sliding along his side, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He kissed you deeper, slower, like he had nowhere else to be. Like there was nothing better than this. His hand traced down, fingertips brushing over your back, down to the curve of your waist. He pulled you closer until there wasn’t space for anything but the steady heat of him, his body solid, his breath quickening.

You shifted, your leg sliding over his, tangling close. His hands found your hips, fingers splaying, holding you there, keeping you pressed to him. His mouth never left yours, deep and wanting but never rushed. His tongue traced over yours, slow and certain, tasting, lingering like he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

Your hands roamed, exploring the lines of him, fingertips skating over his ribs, his shoulders, the soft dip of his spine. Every brush of skin made him press closer, his breath catching, his hands smoothing up your back, tracing along your sides. His touch was slow but certain, like he wanted to feel every inch of you.

The sheets tangled around you, warm and soft, but it was his hands, his mouth, his body that held you there. Time stretched out, long and slow, the kind of time that didn’t feel real. You kissed until your lips were sore, until you were breathless, caught between sighs and quiet laughter, until the line between one kiss and the next blurred into something endless.

Every shift, every brush of fingertips, every quiet hum felt easy. Unhurried. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head just right so his mouth could find yours again. And when his lips dragged lower, brushing along your jaw, down the curve of your throat, you sighed, arching into him.

He hummed, low and pleased, his mouth lingering against your skin, soft and warm. You curled closer, fingers tracing the slope of his back, slow and content.

It wasn’t about urgency. It wasn’t about needing anything more than this. It was about closeness, about the feel of his skin beneath your hands, his mouth on yours, the warmth of his breath, the steady comfort of his touch.

And you stayed like that, tangled up in each other, kissing and touching, letting the world outside fall away.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. You didn’t care.

Eventually, he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm and uneven, his eyes half-lidded, lazy. His thumb brushed along your cheek, slow and sweet.

“I could stay here forever,” he said, voice rough but soft.

You smiled, fingers tracing lightly along his shoulder. “Me too.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. But then your stomach growled—quiet but impossible to ignore and it made you both laugh, warm and breathless.

Spencer shifted back slightly, his hand smoothing down your side. “I still owe you breakfast,” he said, his tone wry. “Or… brunch, I guess, by now. I feel bad about earlier.”

You hummed, trailing your fingers down his arm. “You don’t have to make up for anything. I’m happy right here.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his fingers along your side, slow and thoughtful. “But I want to. I want to bring you something good.”

You gave him a lazy, teasing smile. “And if I said I’d rather keep you here?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Then I’d say I’ll be back fast. But you deserve a real meal, and I want to be the one to bring it to you.” His gaze softened. “Then we can crawl back under the covers and have a lazy day in bed.”

You exhaled, the idea settling in warm. “Alright,” you said. “But you better hurry.”

“I will.” He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips. “Promise.”

You watched him as he slid from the bed, the sheets falling away, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He stretched, slow and lazy, the muscles of his back flexing beneath skin as he reached for his clothes.

He dressed without hurry, his gaze flicking to you as he tugged his shirt over his head. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You smiled, sinking deeper beneath the blanket. “I won’t.”

And when he crossed the room, leaning in to press one last kiss to your forehead, it lingered soft and certain, like a promise.

“I won’t be long,” he said, his fingers brushing one last time along your arm.

You watched him go, the door clicking softly behind him, and the room felt quieter but still warm. Still full of him.

You stretched beneath the sheets, your body humming with the comfort of him, and let yourself sink into the warmth he’d left behind, knowing he’d return soon with food, with more of this. With more of him.

The café was quiet when Spencer stepped inside, the air rich with the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread. The warmth was a sharp contrast to the chill outside, but it wasn’t enough to thaw the haze that had settled over him since leaving your place.

He kept thinking about how you’d looked when he slipped out tangled in the sheets, hair mussed, skin still warm from his touch. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the weight of your body pressed to his. It lingered, soft and heady.

It didn’t feel real.

He kept thinking about last night, about the way you’d smiled over dinner, the quiet way you’d leaned into him at the planetarium like you belonged there, like you belonged with him. He’d memorized the way the soft glow of the stars lit your skin, how your eyes had caught the light when you looked at him. How you’d kissed him like you meant it. Like you wanted more.

He ordered quickly—pastries, something warm and sweet, and coffee that smelled rich and strong. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a gesture. Like something he could give you, small but thoughtful. He wanted to bring you something good. Something easy.

Walking back, he wondered if you were still curled up in bed, if you’d fallen asleep again. He liked the thought of that. Liked the idea of coming back to you warm and drowsy, your body soft beneath the sheets, your voice low with sleep.

He just liked coming back to you.

By the time he let himself back in, the apartment was quiet. He closed the door softly, toeing off his shoes, and carried the food inside. The bedroom door was ajar, and he caught a glimpse of you inside curled beneath the blankets, now wearing a tank top and panties, your hair falling loose over your shoulder. You were stretched out in the soft glow of morning, looking comfortable and warm, and for a second, Spencer just stood there. Watching.

It still didn’t feel real.

You looked up when he stepped in, your eyes soft with sleep, and gave him a smile that made something in his chest pull tight.

“Told you I’d be quick,” he said, keeping his voice low.

You stretched beneath the covers, slow and lazy. “You were.”

He set the bag down, unpacking the food as you pushed yourself up. The sheets slipped down your body, exposing more bare skin, and he tried not to stare. Tried.

“I got pastries,” he said, passing one to you. “And coffee. I thought—well, I hoped it would be good enough.”

You took it with a soft smile, fingers brushing his. “It’s perfect.”

Spencer sat beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. He watched you take a bite, the way your eyes fluttered shut at the taste, and smiled to himself.

It felt easy after that. You sat cross-legged on the bed, sharing food and quiet conversation, trading bites and soft laughs. Crumbs scattered across the sheets, but neither of you cared. His fingers brushed yours more than they needed to. He let them linger, tracing over your knuckles, your wrist, the curve of your thigh beneath the blanket.

And when you were both full, when the food was forgotten and the coffee cooled on the nightstand, you stayed close. Spencer stayed close.

The afternoon passed in quiet, easy conversation. You stayed in bed, letting the hours stretch long and unhurried. There was no rush, no need to be anywhere but here. Spencer stayed close, his leg pressed against yours beneath the blanket, his fingers brushing over your hand now and then-light, lingering, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Eventually, he shifted, leaning back against the headboard and stretching out his legs. His arm slid around your waist, fingers curling just enough to tug you gently toward him. You didn’t resist, letting him pull you in until you were settled between his legs, your back resting against his chest.

It felt natural, easy, the kind of closeness that didn’t need words. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb tracing slow, idle circles over the soft fabric of your tank top. You let your head tip back against his shoulder, and for a while, that was enough.

The conversation slowed, words giving way to the quiet comfort of being close. Spencer’s fingers drifted, tracing along your side, over your ribs, and back again. His touch wasn’t urgent, but there was a weight to it, a quiet intent that lingered beneath the surface.

Eventually, as the sky outside dimmed and the soft glow of evening settled in, Spencer's hand paused where it rested on your waist. His fingers flexed slightly, holding on like he didn't want to let go.

"I should…" His voice trailed off, low and reluctant. "I should probably head out soon."

You tilted your head, looking up at him. "You don't have to."

He hesitated, then sighed. "I do. We have work tomorrow. And as much as I want to stay, I don't think either of us will get much sleep if I do."

It wasn’t teasing, and it wasn’t light. It was truth, weighed down with the pull of wanting to stay anyway.

You nodded, though it wasn’t what you wanted either. "Yeah. You're right."

He was quiet for a moment, his hand smoothing over your side like he was memorizing the shape of you. "Tomorrow's going to be… interesting," he said, a dry note in his voice.

You gave a small laugh. "You mean the team is going to make our lives hell?"

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Exactly that."

You shifted, turning slightly to look at him better. "We'll get through it."

"We will," he agreed, but the words were softer. Like he needed to believe them as much as you did. "But we need to be careful. We can’t… We can’t let this affect work."

You nodded, serious now. "I know. No flirting. No… this," you said, gesturing between you both. "Not while we’re on the clock."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Right. No slipping. No mistakes."

"And no giving them anything to gossip about," you added.

He chuckled under his breath, though it lacked humor. "We already gave them enough. Tomorrow, we keep it professional. No exceptions."

You nodded again, though a part of you ached at the thought. "We’ll figure it out."

His hand lingered at your side, fingers pressing in gently like he didn’t want to let go. "We will," he said, and there was something certain in the words. Not just about work but about everything. About you and him.

When he finally stood, you followed him, padding barefoot to the door. The apartment felt smaller as he gathered his things, quieter with the evening stretching between you. You lingered close as he shrugged on his jacket, and when his hand hovered at the door, you reached for him.

He turned, his expression soft and a little sad, and you lifted onto your toes, brushing your lips to his. Slow, lingering, a kiss that said all the things you couldn’t tomorrow. The kind that made him hum low in his chest, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, fingers sliding into your hair.

You pulled back first, but only by a breath. "Goodnight," you said, your voice quieter now.

His thumb traced along your jaw. "Goodnight."

He hesitated, but then he stepped back, opening the door and slipping out with one last look. One that lingered like his touch, warm and slow, even after the door clicked shut.

You stood there for a moment, fingers pressed to your lips, holding onto the feel of him. Knowing tomorrow would be different. Knowing you'd have to act like this didn’t happen.

But it did. And you'd both figure it out. Together.

The night stretched quiet after Spencer left, but his absence lingered. You moved through the motions of evening—tidying up, brushing your teeth, slipping into bed—but it all felt a little too still. A little too empty.

Your phone buzzed just as you settled under the covers.

Spencer: Sweet dreams. I’ll be thinking about you.

A smile tugged at your lips as you typed back.

You: You better not be thinking about me tomorrow. We have to be professional, remember?

The reply came quickly.

Spencer: Right. Completely professional. No thinking about you at all.

You could almost hear the sarcasm in it. Almost see the way he’d be smiling, soft and teasing.

You: Good luck with that.

A beat passed, and then,

Spencer: Goodnight.

You: Goodnight, Spencer.

You set the phone down, but it took a while for sleep to come. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, fingers brushing over the empty space beside you. It felt like something unfinished. Like something waiting.

But eventually, sleep pulled you under.

Sleep didn’t last long enough.

You moved through the morning on autopilot—shower, coffee, dressing for the day. Routine helped, steady and familiar, but there was a thread of tension underneath it all. A sense of anticipation you couldn’t shake.

You paused by the mirror, studying yourself. Trying to find that steady, composed version that wouldn’t give anything away. That could walk into work and pretend nothing had changed.

Professional. Unshakable.

You adjusted your clothes and took one last look.

This was fine. You could do this.

The drive in passed in a blur, but when the building came into view, your stomach tightened. It was easy to imagine the teasing looks, the knowing glances, the way the team would pounce at the first slip.

In the elevator, you caught your reflection in the metal doors. You smoothed your hands down your sides, pressed your shoulders back. Tried to look like nothing had changed. Like you weren’t holding onto the ghost of Spencer’s touch.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open, and you took a breath.

Steady. Calm. Professional.

You stepped out, heels clicking against the floor, and walked toward the office.

The bullpen was already humming with quiet activity when you stepped off the elevator. Garcia was perched on Derek's desk, legs crossed, a look of pure mischief lighting up her face. She wasn’t even pretending to look busy, eyes fixed on the elevator like she had been waiting just for you.

Her grin was immediate and sharp. "Well, well. Look who decided to show up."

You kept your expression neutral, though it was difficult with the way her gaze swept over you like she was analyzing every inch.

"Morning, Garcia."

She slid off the desk with slow grace. "Morning? Oh, I bet it is." Her voice dripped with implication. "Good weekend?"

Before you could answer, the  second elevator chimed, and Spencer stepped out. He caught sight of the group and hesitated just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Garcia's grin turned predatory.

"Speak of the devil," she said sweetly.

You watched as Spencer’s eyes flicked over the bullpen, taking in the scene, taking in you. There was a tightness to his jaw, the faintest blush colouring his cheeks, but he kept his stride steady as he crossed to his desk.

Garcia’s grin widened as she gave Spencer a slow once-over. She tilted her head, voice sweet but laced with mischief.

“You’re walking a little funny this morning, Doctor Reid.”

The words hung in the air. There was a beat of silence, just long enough for the implication to land.

Spencer froze, the colour rising sharply to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure how to respond.

Without a word, he hurried to his desk.

Garcia just smiled, looking far too pleased with herself.

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, that explains a lot."

Emily smirked, her gaze flicking between you and Spencer. "Guess all that arguing was just foreplay, huh?"

JJ, walking in with a coffee in hand, raised her brows as she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Did I miss something, or is this just Monday morning chaos?"

Morgan chuckled. "You missed the revelation of the century."

You set your bag down, refusing to let your smile slip. You didn’t plan to deny anything, but that didn’t mean you were about to serve up details either.

Garcia tilted her head, her grin unrelenting. "Come on, you’re not really gonna act like I didn’t catch you two, are you? Phones don’t just spend the night together by accident."

Morgan crossed his arms, looking smug. "Makes sense now. All that tension? All those arguments? Classic case of unresolved chemistry."

JJ grinned, her tone teasing. "Yeah, we just didn’t realize how unresolved it really was."

Emily laughed. "You know, I always thought it was going to end with one of them throwing a punch. Turns out it ended… differently."

That earned a round of laughter, and Spencer, though he kept his head down, wasn’t fooling anyone. His ears were burning red.

Garcia beamed. "Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you worked it out. This place was almost getting boring without the two of you bickering like an old married couple."

"Turns out they just needed to get it out of their system," Morgan added, grinning.

Emily shook her head with a laugh. "Or maybe they just found a better way to argue."

The laughter that followed was easy, though under it, you could feel the curiosity lingering. Questions were brewing, but before anyone could push further, Hotch's office door opened. The sound was enough to pull everyone's attention back to their desks, a momentary reprieve.

But you knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The morning passed in steady rhythm, but every so often, you felt it—Spencer’s gaze. Quick, flickering glances from across the bullpen. At first, you thought nothing of it. Habit, maybe. Or the lingering awkwardness after the weekend.

But then you caught it again. His eyes weren’t on your face.

You crossed to the filing cabinet, crouching to sift through the lower drawer. Papers shuffled under your fingers as you searched, but the weight of his gaze pressed against you, lingering. Curious. You straightened, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see Spencer quickly look away, his focus snapping back to his desk with suspicious intensity.

Strange.

You brushed it off and returned to your desk. But when you bent again—this time to reach for a file on the lower shelf—you caught it once more. A fleeting glance, sharp and quick, his jaw tightening as his eyes darted away.

You frowned slightly, puzzled. What was he looking at?

It wasn’t until you sat back and caught the way his gaze dropped—just for a second—that it clicked.

Ah.

You bit back a smile.

Leaning forward, you reached for your coffee, letting your blouse shift just enough, casual and effortless. You didn’t look at him, not yet, but you felt the shift in the air, that slight tension when someone’s trying not to stare.

And when you glanced up, there it was. His eyes, caught mid-glance, guilt flashing before he dragged them back to his desk.

Still, his blush gave him away.

You said nothing. Just smiled to yourself and turned back to your work, already thinking of how you’d make him squirm later.

Suddenly Garcia strolled into the bullpen, her heels clicking softly as she made her way to your desk. She perched on the edge, her voice low and laced with mischief. “So,” she started, eyes bright, “have a fun weekend?”

You looked up, keeping your tone light. “Relaxing. You?”

Garcia hummed, leaning in slightly. “Oh, quiet. Except for when I noticed two certain phones spending the night together. That definitely kept things interesting.”

You lifted an eyebrow, teasing. “Must’ve been a wild night for the phones.”

Emily, not even pretending to be focused on work, grinned. "Maybe the phones are dating now. Saved us all a lot of time waiting for them to catch up."

Laughter rippled through the bullpen, and you fought to keep your smile in check.

Garcia’s grin only widened as she turned back to you, her voice low and conspiratorial. “So… is it serious, or just a one-time thing for the phones?”

You took a slow sip of your coffee. “Guess you'll have to keep tracking to find out.”

Garcia chuckled, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, don’t tempt me.”

Garcia didn’t waste time. As soon as she slipped off your desk, she strolled toward Spencer’s, her steps light and casual. She leaned in just slightly, keeping her voice low but sweet.

"So," she said, eyes sparkling with mischief, "was it just a fun little weekend, or should I be picking out engagement gifts?"

Spencer glanced up, his expression calm but guarded. "That’s a little fast, don’t you think?"

Garcia smiled, undeterred. "Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes things just… click. Fast and hard."

He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "I’d say it’s more complicated than that."

Garcia tilted her head, her grin widening. "Complicated is just code for interesting. And I love interesting."

Spencer gave a faint, knowing smile but said nothing more.

She lingered for a second longer, clearly waiting for something—anything—but when Spencer simply returned to his file, she straightened with a soft, playful sigh. "Fine, be mysterious. But don’t think I’m done yet."

And with that, she walked off, not quite satiated.

The teasing air didn’t go away. It hummed beneath every glance, every smirk that lingered a second too long. Every time you crossed the bullpen, there was an expectant pause, like the team was waiting for something to slip.

Morgan, leaning back in his chair, caught your eye as you passed with a file. His grin was slow, sharp. “Careful, sweetness. Don’t throw your back out carrying that—though I guess you’ve already had a good workout this weekend.”

You didn’t miss a step, just shot him a look over your shoulder. “I can handle it.”

But when you glanced at Spencer, his gaze wasn’t on the file. His eyes dipped lower, lingering for a beat too long. His jaw flexed, and he shifted in his seat, flipping a page in the file like it could cover the moment.

Emily caught it too, biting back a grin. She met your gaze and gave an exaggerated wink.

You kept walking, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck.

But Spencer wasn’t doing as well. His gaze flicked up quickly, catching yours before darting away, his fingers drumming a little too fast against the desk.

Later, in the file room, you were too focused on the folder in your hands to hear the door open. Too focused to notice the soft click of it shutting.

You didn’t hear him until you felt him—until his body pressed against your back, warm and solid. His hands landed on the shelves on either side of you, caging you in.

You froze, breath hitching as the heat of him curled around you.

Then his mouth was at your ear, his breath warm, his voice low enough to be dangerous. “Why today?" The words dragged slow and rough. "Why wear something so damn tempting?”

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs. You didn’t turn. Couldn’t. "Didn’t realize it was a problem."

Spencer’s laugh was quiet, low, curling at the edges. His nose skimmed the line of your jaw, a touch so light it left your skin burning. "It is," he said, the words nothing but a whisper. "Because I can’t think about anything else."

You felt his hand drift up, fingers brushing against your side, tracing the curve of your waist, so soft it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingertips skimmed the edge of your blouse, lingering just beneath the fabric’s hem.

Your breath stuttered, caught somewhere between a gasp and a challenge. "Maybe I wanted you distracted."

That earned a sharp inhale, but his laugh came dark and quiet. "Careful," he murmured. "You’re going to get exactly what you’re asking for."

Then, in one smooth motion, he turned you. His hands slid to your waist, firm and sure, and your back met the shelves with a quiet thud.

You barely had time to react before his body pressed close, his hand bracing beside your head. His other hand drifted along your hip, teasing, slow, fingers tracing the shape of you.

And then he was leaning in, his lips brushing close to yours—not touching, but close enough to feel the heat. Close enough to taste the possibility.

Your breath caught, chest rising to meet his. He stayed there, hovering, letting the anticipation crackle between you.

When you tried to close the gap, just a little, his hand slid up to your jaw, holding you still. His thumb traced your cheek, soft and maddening.

"Not yet," he whispered, his lips barely ghosting yours. His eyes were dark, heavy with want. "You don’t get to have it that easy."

The words sent heat spiralling low, sharp and hot.

You swallowed hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. "You’re cruel," you breathed.

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Only when you deserve it."

And then his hand was gone, trailing down your side like a promise as he stepped back. The air felt colder without him, and your legs barely held steady beneath you.

But Spencer wasn’t unaffected. His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than before. He hesitated for half a second—like he might take it back, close the distance—but the sound of footsteps outside snapped the tension.

He turned, slipping from the room without a word.

And it wasn’t hard to notice the way his pants fit tighter than when he’d come in.

You stayed against the shelves, trying to catch your breath. Your skin still burned where he’d touched you. Your lips still tingled from the ghost of what almost was.

The afternoon stretched, slow and deliberate, each hour marked by lingering glances and barely-there touches. The teasing still hadn’t let up. Emily’s knowing looks, Morgan’s smirks, and JJ’s subtle glances over her coffee mug all pressed against the edges of your focus, reminding you of the tension that simmered beneath the surface.

Spencer tried to keep his attention on paperwork, but every time you shifted in your seat or reached for a file, his eyes flicked toward you. Quick, but not quick enough. And when you caught him, he'd glance away, his jaw tight and the tips of his ears faintly flushed.

You weren’t doing much better. Every brush of his hand when passing a folder, every moment his gaze dipped lower than it should, sparked a quiet heat beneath your skin. The tension built in the space between you—heavy and electric.

Morgan chuckled low, catching Spencer’s lingering stare. “If that’s how you look at her here, I can’t imagine how you look at her when it’s just the two of you.”

Emily didn’t miss a beat. “Bet they don’t argue nearly as much when it’s just them and locked doors.”

Morgan grinned. “Nah, I bet they argue more. Just… with less clothing.”

JJ glanced up, her smile sly. “Well, as long as they showed up to work in one piece, I guess they figured it out.”

Laughter rippled through the bullpen, and you fought to keep your face neutral, though heat prickled at the back of your neck. You didn’t dare glance at Spencer.

But you didn’t have to. His hand twitched around his pen, his shoulders stiff. He flipped a page, eyes down, like the paper could shield him. The flush along his cheeks was unmistakable, and he shifted slightly in his seat, jaw tight.

Emily leaned back, still grinning. “Come on, Reid, you’re the genius. What’s the probability of you making it through today without getting caught staring again?”

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t look up. “Low,” he admitted quietly.

The bullpen broke into another round of laughter, and you pressed your lips together to hide your smile. You weren’t sure if it was crueller to leave him hanging or to come to his rescue—but either way, it was definitely fun.

By the time the day edged toward its close, it felt like every second was strung tight, pulled taut with what neither of you said out loud. The office felt too small, the distance between desks too wide.

You stepped out of the break room and nearly collided with him in the hall. His shoulder brushed yours, his hand steadying you with a touch low on your back—too brief, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“Your place?” he murmured, his voice low, words skimming warm against your ear.

You didn’t turn, just glanced at him sideways, lips curving. “After work.”

He smiled, slow and sure. “I’ll bring dinner.”

And then he was gone, leaving you there with a heartbeat that wouldn’t slow and a promise hanging in the air. The rest of the day stretched endlessly, every tick of the clock a reminder of how close, and yet how far, the evening was.

When the day finally wound down, you gathered your things, pulse thrumming. Spencer wasn’t far behind, though neither of you said a word. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Morgan’s voice broke the quiet hum. “Don’t stay up too late, lovebirds. Gotta be sharp for work tomorrow.”

Spencer paused, his hand hovering over his satchel, gaze flicking up to meet yours before dropping again.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be sure to send him home before curfew.”

That earned a ripple of laughter, light but sharp enough to make Spencer’s ears tint pink. He ducked his head, focusing a little too hard on his bag.

You exchanged no more words, but as you moved toward the elevator, you felt his stare, steady and warm. A glance back caught it—his eyes lingered, heavy with something unspoken.

The doors slid open, and you stepped inside. Just before they closed, Spencer caught your gaze again. A subtle tilt of his head. A silent promise.

When you finally got home, the weight of the day lingered in your bones. You kicked off your shoes, rolling your shoulders as you took in the quiet of your apartment. The teasing at work had been relentless, the stolen glances with Spencer torturous, and the slow crawl of time utterly unforgiving. Now, the waiting was finally over.

You had just settled onto the couch when a knock at the door sent a thrill through you. When you pulled it open, Spencer was standing there, slightly out of breath, brown paper bags in his hands, his messenger bag still slung over his shoulder. His tie was loose, and a few strands of hair had fallen over his forehead.

“Delivery,” he said, holding up the bags.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the door frame. “You’ve never been a delivery guy in your life.”

Spencer stepped closer, eyes twinkling. “I brought food. That counts.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped aside to let him in. He made a beeline for the coffee table, setting down the food before shrugging off his bag. You followed, grabbing plates while he started unpacking the containers.

“You better not have picked something weird,” you teased, eyeing the bags suspiciously.

Spencer scoffed. “I have excellent taste.”

“You have questionable taste.”

“Only in women,” he quipped, earning a playful glare.

You settled on the couch with Spencer, the plates of Chinese food steaming between you. You talked about your workday, the teasing still fresh in your mind. Each shared story was met with laughter and the occasional eye roll, but there was a comfort in the banter that went deeper than the surface. It was easy, this back-and-forth, the way you could poke at each other’s buttons without fear of retribution.

“Speaking of, I think we may have permanently lost our credibility as professionals today.”

You snorted. “We had credibility to begin with?”

Spencer gave you a pointed look. “I did.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, if you’re so reputable, you should’ve been able to keep a straight face when Emily caught you staring at my cleavage.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with one hand. “That was humiliating.”

“You turned red,” you teased, nudging his knee with yours.

“I panicked! There was no good way to recover from that!”

“You could’ve denied it.”

Spencer shot you a dry look. “And no one would’ve believed me. Besides, after that, there was Derek.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh god, yeah. He looked so smug when he caught you adjusting your tie like it would somehow erase the fact that you got caught drooling.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” Spencer muttered.

“Mmm,” you hummed, dragging out the sound. “That’s not what I heard.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Do you enjoy my suffering?”

You grinned. “A little.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head as he picked at his food. “At least I wasn’t the only one suffering. You had Garcia and JJ tag-teaming you all day.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “It was relentless. Garcia kept looking at me like she was proud—like I finally made a respectable life decision by dating you.”

Spencer smirked. “Well, I am an excellent choice.”

You shot him a look. “You’re a choice.”

His smirk widened. “A choice you chose.”

You huffed, nudging his knee with your foot. “Don’t get cocky. And JJ wasn’t any better—every time I looked at her, she was just smiling at me. Like this soft, knowing little smile. And when I asked what she was grinning about, she just shrugged and said, ‘Oh, nothing.’”

Spencer chuckled. “That’s worse than outright teasing.”

“I know!” You threw your hands up. “And then she had the audacity to say, ‘You two make sense.’”

Spencer tilted his head. “That’s kind of sweet.”

You pointed a fork at him. “It was smug and you know it.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t argue with you.”

“You never argue with me,” you shot back sarcastically, eyes twinkling.

The sarcasm goes right over his head. “Now that’s not true.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fair point. You argue with me about everything.”

His lips twitched. “Not everything.”

You arched a brow. “Okay, name one thing we haven’t argued about.”

Spencer opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed. “Give me a minute.”

You smirked. “Exactly.”

You nudged Spencer’s knee with your foot, smirking as you picked at your food. “You remember the sticky note war?”

Spencer groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’m reminding you.”

It had started with a single correction—Spencer, unable to resist his need for precision, had scribbled an annotation onto one of your reports. You retaliated by leaving a sticky note on his desk that read, Clarification: You’re insufferable.

The next morning, you arrived to find a meticulously written response stuck to your monitor: Insubstantial claim. Please provide evidence.

And so it escalated.

Every day brought new additions. You scrawled sarcastic commentary on his files; he responded with passive-aggressive footnotes. You left him a sticky note with a simple No one likes a know-it-all. He countered with a full printout of a psychological study on passive-aggressive behaviour, highlighted and annotated just for you.

You declared war.

One evening, after everyone had left, you gathered every sticky note in the office and wallpapered Spencer’s desk. His chair, his drawers, his keyboard—everything was covered in a sea of bright squares, you wrote on as many as you could. Some were snarky 'You brought this upon yourself', some were outright taunts 'Can’t clarify your way out of this one, genius', and some were just ridiculous 'Fun fact: You're annoying'.

When Spencer walked in the next morning, he stopped in the doorway, staring in stunned silence.

You had never seen him so speechless.

As you sat together on your couch, Spencer was still shaking his head at the memory. “Do you know how long it took me to get rid of all of them?”

You grinned. “You should’ve surrendered.”

Spencer huffed. “I don’t surrender.”

“And yet, you never retaliated.”

Spencer took a slow bite of his food, eyes narrowing. “Because I knew I couldn’t win. You’re ruthless.”

You held up a finger. “Strategic.”

“Unhinged.”

You shrugged, smug. “Admit it. I won.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. “You may have won that battle.”

You smirked. “And the war.”

He gave you a look but didn’t argue. That was admission enough.

Spencer scooped up a bite of rice, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you nearly buried me alive in paperwork.”

You snorted. “You act like I did it on purpose.”

Spencer levelled you with a look. “You stacked those files like a reckless maniac. I barely touched one, and the whole thing came down like an avalanche.”

You smirked around a bite of food. “Maybe you should’ve had faster reflexes.”

He scoffed. “I was ambushed.”

You could still picture it perfectly. Spencer had wandered over to your desk, reaching for a file you’d worked on. But the moment he slid it free from the pile, the precariously stacked tower of paperwork had given way, cascading down on top of him in a flurry of folders and sticky notes.

You had turned just in time to see him flail, letting out a startled yelp as he was buried under the mess.

It had taken you a full thirty seconds to stop laughing before you actually helped him.

“I thought I was going to die under there,” Spencer grumbled, stabbing at his food.

You grinned. “And what a tragic way to go. Drowned in documentation.”

Spencer huffed. “And then, after all that, you had the audacity to lecture me on why my filing system is inferior.”

You shrugged. “It is.”

Spencer set his plate down, turning fully toward you. “No. It is efficient, logical, and, most importantly, does not result in near-death experiences.”

You pointed at him with your chopsticks. “My system works for me.”

“If by ‘works,’ you mean you have to dig through mountains of papers every time you need something, then sure.���

You rolled your eyes. “It’s organized chaos.”

“It’s a safety hazard.”

You grinned. “And yet, you still went digging through my stuff.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Never again.”

Spencer tapped his fingers against his plate, eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, I still haven’t forgiven you for the pen-clicking war.”

You smirked. “Because you lost?”

His scoff was immediate. “I did not lose.”

“Oh, you definitely lost.”

It had started with the smallest complaint. Spencer had been sitting across from you in the bullpen, diligently working on something, when he suddenly exhaled sharply.

“Can you stop that?”

You looked up, feigning innocence. “Stop what?”

“The pen.” He gestured vaguely at your hand, where you had been clicking your pen absentmindedly against your notepad.

You paused—then clicked it one more time, just to test him.

Spencer’s jaw tightened. “That.”

A slow smirk stretched across your lips. “Oh, this?” Click.

“Yes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s annoying,” he said flatly.

That had been the moment you decided to make it your mission to annoy him as much as possible.

You clicked the pen relentlessly, varying the rhythm to keep him guessing. Sometimes, you’d click it twice, pause, then click it again just when he thought it was over. Other times, you’d hold it near his ear and click it absentmindedly while reading.

Spencer had lasted exactly twenty-three minutes before he retaliated.

He started talking—rambling, really—about anything and everything. The mating habits of deep-sea squid, the complete history of the Dewey Decimal System, the statistical probability of tripping while carrying a full cup of coffee.

The worst part? He was staring directly at you the entire time, waiting for your patience to crack.

It became a game.

You clicked the pen during every pause in his speech. He started filling those pauses with increasingly useless facts.

By lunchtime, Emily had thrown a crumpled napkin at both of you and declared she was going to start charging for babysitting.

Spencer sighed, shaking his head at the memory. “You never fight fair.”

You grinned. “Oh, I fight smart.”

Spencer gave you a look. “You fight dirty.”

“And yet,” you said, biting into your food, “you still lost.”

Spencer muttered something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched. Even in defeat, he couldn’t help but be entertained.

Spencer pointed his fork at you, expression serious. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the peanut butter and jelly incident.”

You smirked. “Oh, you mean the time you were wrong?”

He scoffed. “I was not wrong.”

“You were so wrong.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “You threw a sandwich at me.”

“You deserved it.”

It had started in the break room, a simple, innocent lunch break. You were at the counter, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, carefully spreading peanut butter on one slice and jelly on the other. Spencer had wandered in, probably to refill his coffee, when he happened to glance at what you were doing.

And then he spoke the words that sealed his fate.

“You know, you’re making that incorrectly.”

You froze mid-spread, turning your head ever so slightly. “Excuse me?”

Spencer stepped closer, peering at your sandwich with an air of intellectual superiority. “You’re supposed to spread the peanut butter on one slice, then put the jelly on top of it, on the same slice, before putting the other piece of bread on top.”

You gaped at him. “That’s—Spencer, that’s insane.”

“It’s practical,” he argued. “If you put the jelly on a separate slice, it soaks into the bread too quickly and makes it soggy. The peanut butter acts as a protective barrier.”

You narrowed your eyes. “First of all, if you eat it immediately, the bread doesn’t have time to get soggy. Second of all, spreading jelly on top of peanut butter is just wrong—it doesn’t spread properly, and it gets all mixed up. You’re ruining the integrity of the sandwich.”

Spencer made a face. “You’re overcomplicating a simple process.”

You huffed. “And you’re making a mess. If you put the jelly on top of peanut butter, it slides around when you try to spread it! You end up with uneven distribution, which completely defeats the point of making a sandwich in the first place.”

Spencer crossed his arms. “I think you’re just bad at spreading.”

You inhaled sharply. “Take that back.”

“No.”

So you did what any reasonable person would do. You grabbed the top slice of your sandwich, fully loaded with jelly, and threw it at his chest.

The break room went silent.

Spencer stared at you, then slowly looked down at the smear of jelly now adorning his vest.

You sipped your drink to hide your grin. “Oops.”

Spencer shook his head. “You know, most people would’ve just verbally disagreed.”

You grinned, nudging his knee. “And most people wouldn’t have deserved to get assaulted with a PB&J.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Spencer glanced down at his feet, then back at you, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “I assume you’ve finally accepted that matching socks are inherently unlucky.”

You scoffed, setting down your chopsticks. “No, I’ve just given up arguing with someone who’s clearly delusional.”

Spencer hummed, clearly amused. “That’s not what you said the day you tried to force me to wear a matching pair.”

You groaned. “Because you were about to testify in court, Spencer! You were literally representing the entire BAU, and I thought maybe—just maybe—you could act like a normal person for one day.”

Spencer shrugged. “And I still gave flawless testimony. The jury didn’t convict based on my socks.”

“You don’t know that!”

The argument had started that morning at the office. You had stepped into the conference room where Spencer was reviewing his notes for court. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, and his slacks had ridden up just enough to reveal an egregious sight—one sock was navy with tiny books on it, and the other was bright green with planets.

You had stopped in your tracks, horrified. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Spencer barely glanced up. “Good morning to you, too.”

You pointed accusingly. “You are about to testify in a murder trial looking like a child whose parents didn’t do their laundry.”

Spencer blinked at you. “That’s dramatic.”

“No, this is dramatic—” You dug into your bag and pulled out the emergency pair of black dress socks you kept for specifically this reason. “Put these on.”

Spencer finally looked up, lips twitching. “You carry emergency socks?”

“I carry emergency Spencer socks because I knew you’d pull something like this.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I appreciate the effort, but I can’t wear matching socks.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You can, you just won’t.”

Spencer lifted a single finger, as if about to explain quantum mechanics. “The last time I wore matching socks, I had the worst day of my life.”

You folded your arms. “Oh, really?”

Spencer leaned back against the couch, his lips twitching in amusement. “It was years ago. Back when I was still new at the BAU, and I thought I’d try being… conventional.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”

He sighed. “Matching socks. Crisp, freshly pressed shirt. Everything put together like a normal, functioning adult.”

You snorted. “Bold choice.”

Spencer pointed at you. “A disastrous one.”

You gestured for him to continue, already intrigued.

“That morning, I got to the office early. I figured, you know, new day, fresh start, maybe I’d have a productive morning. I sat down at my desk, opened a file, and immediately knocked over my full cup of coffee. All over my case notes. Ruined. Just black ink bleeding into a giant, useless mess.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Spencer gave you a dry look. “Then, while I was trying to salvage what I could, Hotch called me in for an urgent briefing. I grabbed the wrong file—completely irrelevant information—walked in, sat down, and didn’t realize my mistake until I opened it in front of the whole team.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Spencer shook his head. “Hotch just gave me that look—you know, the one that makes you feel like you’re six years old and getting scolded by a school principal.”

You grinned. “I know the one.”

Spencer exhaled. “So, after making a fool of myself in front of the team, I went back to my desk, only to find that my chair had mysteriously vanished.”

You frowned. “Someone took your chair?”

“No, it was still there—I just didn’t notice because I wasn’t paying attention. So I went to sit down and… missed. Completely. Ended up on the floor.”

That was it. You burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Derek nearly passed out from how hard he was laughing. I was humiliated.”

You wiped at your eyes. “Okay, but that was just one day.”

Spencer lifted a finger. “That was before I left the office for the day.”

Your laughter slowed. “There’s more?”

“Oh, there’s more. I got caught in a sudden downpour without an umbrella, missed my bus, and when I finally got home, I realized I’d left my apartment keys in my desk drawer at work.”

You winced. “Oof.”

“Had to take a cab all the way back to the office just to get them. By the time I made it home, I was drenched, exhausted, and swore that I would never wear matching socks again.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous.”

Spencer smirked. “And yet, I haven’t had a day that bad since.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not proof of anything.”

“It’s proof enough for me.”

Spencer stretched an arm along the back of the couch, fingers idly brushing against your shoulder. His other hand rested on his knee, occasionally toying with the fabric of his sleeve. The room was quiet now, the remains of dinner pushed to the side, your plates stacked neatly on the coffee table.

He shifted slightly, tilting his head toward you. “Come here.”

You raised a brow. “I am here.”

“Closer.”

There was something in the way he said it—soft, certain—that sent a pleasant hum through you. You hesitated only for a second before giving in, leaning into his space. His arm slipped down around you, pulling you snug against his chest. He exhaled in satisfaction, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm as you settled against him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content in the warmth of each other’s presence. Then Spencer sighed, his voice laced with amusement. “You know, for all the teasing today, no one brought up the pen incident.”

You tilted your head to look up at him. “The pen incident?”

Spencer smirked. “The day you nearly had a full-blown meltdown in the bullpen.”

Your eyes narrowed as the memory clicked into place. “Oh. You mean the day you stole from me?”

Spencer scoffed, feigning innocence. “Stole is a strong word.”

“No, it’s the exact word.” You poked his side for emphasis. “That was my favourite pen, Spencer.”

“Which I borrowed,” he corrected.

“You didn’t borrow it! Borrowing implies permission. You swiped it off my desk when I wasn’t looking.”

Spencer shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “I needed a pen.”

You huffed. “I needed that pen for three days.”

It had started as a minor annoyance—an everyday item that had mysteriously vanished. At first, you assumed you had misplaced it. You sifted through the papers on your desk, checked beneath your keyboard, even dug through your bag just in case. But the pen—the one pen you actually liked writing with—was nowhere to be found.

By the end of the first day, frustration had set in.

By the second, it was personal.

By the third, you were on the verge of losing your mind.

It was your pen. The only pen you liked writing with. It fit perfectly in your grip, the ink flowed just right, and unlike every other pen in the bullpen, it never smudged or skipped. Losing it wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was a betrayal.

Desperation turned into suspicion.

You turned to Emily first. “Hey, did you take my pen?”

Emily barely looked up from her file. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

She gave you a dry look. “Yes, I’m sure. Why would I steal your pen?”

That was a fair question, but it didn’t stop you from asking Gideon and JJ the same thing.

When you got to Derek, he smirked. “You’ve been talking about this pen for three days. If I had it, trust me, you’d already know.”

And he was right—because when you finally found it, the betrayal was so immediate, so visceral, that you could feel the blood leave your face.

Across the room, Spencer sat at his desk, absently tapping the end of a very familiar-looking pen against his notebook.

Your eye twitched.

You stormed over, stopping just short of his desk. “Where did you get that?”

Spencer barely glanced up. “Hmm?”

“That pen, Spencer.” You pointed at it accusingly. “That’s my pen.”

Spencer frowned slightly and turned it over in his hand, as if just now noticing. “Oh. Huh.”

“Huh?” you repeated, incredulous. “Huh?! That’s all you have to say?”

He blinked up at you. “Well, in my defense, I needed a pen.”

“You—” You inhaled sharply, trying very hard not to strangle him in the middle of the office. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Spencer shrugged. “You were busy.”

“Oh my god.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “And when, exactly, were you planning on returning it?”

He tilted his head, thinking. “Soon?”

You gaped at him. “Soon?! Spencer, it’s been three days!”

Spencer winced. “Oh. That’s… longer than I thought.”

You snatched the pen from his hand with a dramatic flourish. “Unbelievable.”

Spencer smirked. “You could just let it go.”

You pointed the pen at him like a weapon. “I will never let this go.”

And you hadn’t.

Even now, curled up against him on the couch, you could still feel the sheer betrayal of that moment. Spencer, of course, was entirely unbothered.

He smirked, fingers still trailing idly along your arm. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

You huffed. “You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges.”

Spencer chuckled. “Oh, please. If I took another one, we’d be right back where we started.”

You gasped, scandalized. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Spencer just sipped his drink, looking far too smug.

So you made a move to sit up, feigning exasperation. “That’s it, I’m leaving.”

Before you could so much as shift away, Spencer’s arms tightened around you, pulling you firmly against him.

“Nice try,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair.

You huffed a laugh, letting yourself relax back into him. “Unbelievable.”

“Completely believable,” he corrected.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Spencer only hummed, his hold on you unwavering. You could feel the faint vibration of his laughter against your back, warm and steady. He knew exactly what he was doing. As much as you wanted to keep up your righteous indignation… you let him win this one.

With a mischievous spark in your eye, you turned in his arms. He blinked in surprise, his smirk fading into something softer, something hopeful. You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his, and suddenly the air around you was charged with a different kind of tension.

You straddled his hips, deepening the kiss, feeling the heat between you grow as his hands found your waist. His fingers flexed, holding you closer, like he was afraid you’d pull away again. But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now.

Your hands fisted into his hair gently tugging, pulling him closer, as if you could somehow merge into one being. Spencer’s mouth moved with yours, exploring, claiming, until you both had to break away for air.

One hand skimmed down his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. It was like a metronome, keeping time with the rhythm of your own. Your thumb traced the line of his collarbone, feeling the heat of his skin, and then lower, the soft fabric of his shirt giving way to the firmness of his chest. His breath hitched when you reached the first button, and his eyes darkened, watching you intently.

Your hand found the hem of his shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. You felt the warmth of his skin as you slid your hand under the fabric, feeling the ridge of muscle, the smoothness of his stomach. His belt buckle was cold against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. You traced the leather, then the button of his slacks, teasing him gently, watching his reaction.

Spencer’s eyes fell closed, his breath shallow as your hand played over his body. You could feel his restraint, the effort it took for him to not take over, to let you set the pace. But when your fingers hovered over the zipper of his pants, he groaned, a low, needy sound that sent a thrill through you.

With deliberate slowness, you unbuckled his belt, watching his stomach muscles tighten in anticipation. The leather slid through the loops with a whisper. Then, with the same teasing grace, you pulled down the zipper. His pants parted, revealing his boxers, and the thick outline of his arousal pressing against the fabric.

Spencer’s breath was coming in short, ragged bursts. His eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils dilated with desire. You reached into his pants, feeling the heat of him, and he trembled at your touch. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every move.

With a gentle tug, you pulled his slacks down enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. His half-hard cock strained against the fabric, begging for release. The sight of him, so vulnerable and eager, had you biting back a groan. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin as you kissed him.

His hips arched slightly as you traced the outline of his cock with your fingertips. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping his lips. The fabric was thin, almost translucent, and you could feel the heat of him, the firmness growing as your touch grew bolder.

You tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock. It bobbed between you, half-hard and flushed with need. Spencer’s hand shot out, gripping the edge of the couch, knuckles white as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over the tip. He was exquisite, the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability.

With a wicked smile, you hovered just out of reach, watching his eyes follow your every move. Then, with a deliberate slowness that had him groaning, you let a bead of saliva pool on your tongue, dropping it onto his cock like a warm, wet kiss. The saliva trickled down, painting a glistening path that made his length pulse with anticipation.

As Spencer’s eyes grew darker, you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the velvety skin and the pulse of his desire. He hissed in a breath, his body jerking slightly as you began to stroke him. Your movements were gentle, exploratory, learning the rhythm that made him shiver with pleasure.

You watched his face, the way his mouth fell open and his eyes grew heavy-lidded. His chest was rising and falling rapidly now, the muscles tensing and releasing with each shallow breath. You could feel his cock thicken in your grip, growing harder as you stroked, your thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just beneath the head. His hips rolled into your touch, seeking more.

With a gentle squeeze, you quickened the pace, your hand moving in a firm, steady rhythm that had Spencer’s eyes sliding shut. His head fell back, a soft groan escaping him. His hand found your thigh, his fingertips digging in as you continued to pleasure him. The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the slick noise of skin on skin, the rustle of fabric as his hips tried to meet your hand.

You leaned in, kissing along his jawline, feeling the stubble scrape against your lips. Spencer’s hand tightened on your thigh, his body tense as he tried to hold back. But you knew him—knew the way his breathing grew erratic, knew the tension in his muscles that signalled his impending release.

With your other hand, you reached down, cupping his balls gently. They were warm, heavy with need, and Spencer’s entire body jerked at the contact. His eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours as you began to massage them in time with your strokes. His hips bucked, pushing his cock further into your hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

You could feel the tension coiling in him, tightening with every pass of your thumb, every squeeze of your fingers. You knew you had him right there, just on the edge, ready to fall. Spencer’s breath grew ragged, his chest heaving as he fought for control.

And then, just as you felt the first tremor of his release, you pulled your hand away.

Spencer’s eyes shot open, his body tensing in protest. He stared at you, his pupils wide, his cock still hard and glistening with your saliva. For a moment, he was frozen, his breath stuttering in his chest.

You watched him, your expression one of sweet innocence, a stark contrast to the wickedness of your action. You hadn’t moved away entirely, but your hand was now hovering over his cock, teasing him with the promise of touch but delivering nothing.

Spencer’s eyes snapped to yours, confusion and desperation warring in their depths. “What—what are you doing?” he managed to rasp out.

You smirked. “That’s for stealing my pen, Dr. Reid.”

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening into fists against the cushions. His voice was low, dangerously controlled. “You really want to play this game?”

You smiled. “I already won.”

The sound he made—half growl, half strained laugh—told you exactly how much trouble you were in.

But you didn’t care. You took hold of him again, your thumb pressing against the slit of his cock, smearing the precum that had gathered there. Spencer’s eyes squeezed shut, his body bowing off the couch.

You leaned in, your mouth hovering just above his. “Say it, Spencer. Say I win.”

Spencer’s eyes snapped open, his pupils dilated with lust. He didn’t speak, but his grip on the couch tightened, his hips rolling up into your touch, begging for release.

With a smug smile, you leaned in closer, whispering, “Say it, Spencer.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mix of desire and frustration. He was so close, and you revelled in the power of holding him there, teetering on the brink.

“You win,” Spencer finally gritted out, his voice a low rumble.

Your grin widened, and you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his mouth. “Say it like you mean it.”

“You win, okay?” Spencer’s voice was a desperate whine. “Just—please, don’t stop.”

With a wicked chuckle, you leaned down, blowing softly on his heated flesh. Your breath sent a shiver down his spine, making his cock pulse in your hand. Spencer’s eyes rolled back, his body trembling with need.

“Please, your mouth…” he whined out, the desperation in his voice music to your ears.

With a smug smile, you leaned in, finally granting his wish. You swiped your tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling him twitch in your grip. Spencer’s eyes flew open, his gaze locking onto yours as you took him in your mouth.

The sound that escaped him was raw, primal—a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sent a jolt straight to your core. You felt your own arousal spike, the warm wetness between your thighs growing as you tasted him.

You took him in deep, letting your tongue swirl around the head of his cock before pulling back, teasing the slit with the tip of your tongue. Spencer’s hand found the back of your head, his grip tight but not demanding, urging you to take him deeper. You complied, his cock filling your mouth as you took him to the back of your throat, the muscles there tightening around him.

He groaned, his hips thrusting up slightly, and you had to fight the urge to gag. You pulled back, taking a deep breath, and then took him again, swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft before flicking it against his balls. Spencer’s entire body tensed, his hand in your hair tightening as he tried to control himself.

You could feel the pressure building in him, the way his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. You quickened your pace, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, stroking him faster, harder. Spencer’s eyes were squeezed shut now, his teeth clenched, his body straining for release.

And then, with a sudden, fierce determination, you increased the suction, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him in deep, the head of his cock touching the back of your throat. He groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his hips jerking upward as if trying to bury himself even deeper.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he whispered, the words barely coherent.

You took Spencer’s praise as the ultimate victory in this playful battle of wills. His hand in your hair grew more insistent, his hips jerking as you worked him closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of your tongue was met with a strangled sound of pleasure that sent a thrill through your body.

Suddenly, Spencer’s breath grew ragged, his hips stuttering upward, and you knew he was there. You sucked harder, feeling his cock pulse against your tongue. And then, with a strangled groan, he came, hot and thick in your mouth. You swallowed, savouring the taste of him, feeling his body shudder beneath you.

Spencer’s hand in your hair tightened almost painfully, but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. You continued to suck, drawing out his orgasms, milking him until he was boneless and panting. His body jerked with each swipe of your tongue, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his release.

He was panting, his chest heaving, once he had enough you sat back, licking your lips. The smug satisfaction in your gaze was unmistakeable. Spencer’s eyes remained shut, his expression one of pure bliss, as he tried to catch his breath.

But before he could recover, you decided to up the ante. With a sultry smile, you stood up, peeling your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. His eyes snapped open, watching in surprise as you revealed your bra, the swell of your breasts above the fabric.

"When you're done here," you purred, "meet me in the bedroom."

You sauntered away, leaving Spencer stunned and still half-dressed on the couch. His eyes followed your swaying hips until you disappeared around the corner. He took a moment to compose himself, his heart racing, and then with a deep breath, he stood and followed.

The moment he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes widened. There you were, naked and kneeling in the centre of the bed, the soft glow of the lamplight casting shadows across your bare skin. The sight of you was like a punch to the gut—beautiful, tempting, and utterly irresistible.

Spencer’s cock twitched with renewed interest. You beckoned to him with a crooked finger, your eyes dark with desire. “I want you inside me, Spencer. Now.”

Without a word, he shed his clothes. You watched as his shirt and pants fell to the floor, revealing his naked form, his chest heaving with excitement. You bit your bottom lip as he climbed onto the bed, his body moving with a grace that belied his usual clumsiness.

Spencer’s hands found yours, pulling you towards the edge of the mattress. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours as he positioned himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he reached between your thighs, feeling the slick heat that awaited him. His thumb found your clit, and you moaned into his mouth, your hips arching to meet his touch.

He broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours as he dipped his fingers into your wetness. You watched as he pulled them away, glistening with your arousal, and brought them to his lips. The sight of him tasting you was intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savouring the flavour, and when they opened again, you could see the hunger in them—for you.

Spencer pushed you back, his hands firm but gentle as he dragged your hips to the edge of the bed. Your legs parted wider, inviting him in, and he didn’t disappoint. He hovered over you, his cock standing proudly, the head nudging at your entrance as he kissed his way down your neck. His touch was feather-light, teasing, as if he was afraid to break the delicate spell that had been cast over you both.

He stopped at your breasts, his eyes darkening with desire as he cupped them in his palms. His thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples, drawing gasps from you. He squeezed, gently at first, feeling the weight of them in his hands, the way your body responded to his touch.

Your back arched, pushing your chest up to meet his, silently begging for more. Spencer didn’t disappoint. He rolled your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the pressure increasing until you were panting, your eyes fluttering shut. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you crave his mouth on your skin.

He lowered his head, his hot breath washing over your sensitive peaks, making them pebble even more. He licked at one, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core. The cold air followed, making you gasp as your nipples tightened even further. Spencer chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

With a smirk, he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. The combination of heat and cold was exquisite, making you squirm beneath him. He took his time, savouring each taste, each reaction. His tongue swirled, his teeth grazed, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every flick of his tongue.

Once he had his fill, Spencer took hold of his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy lips in a delicious tease. The sensation was maddening, and you reached for his hips, trying to pull him closer, needing him inside you.

He could tease you, try to turn the tables and get revenge for earlier, but the truth was, you had wrecked him. And Spencer Reid was man enough to admit defeat. It didn’t help that he was also desperate to sink into you.

With a groan, he positioned the tip of his cock at your slick entrance. Your eyes went wide, anticipation building as you felt the blunt pressure of him pushing in. And then, without warning, he grabbed your legs, lifting them up and over his shoulders. The move was swift and decisive, leaving you open to him, exposed and ready.

He thrust into you, the head of his cock parting your folds and filling you in one smooth stroke. Your body took a moment to adjust to the sudden fullness, the shock of his entry sending a bolt of pleasure through you. You gasped, your nails digging into the comforter as he pushed deeper, filling you completely.

Spencer held still, his eyes locked on yours as you both felt the connection. He was so thick, so hard, and the way he stretched you felt like he was claiming you. He began to move, setting a slow, torturous pace that had you biting your lip to keep from screaming out. Each time he pushed into you, it was like a wave crashing over your senses, filling you up with pleasure until you thought you’d drown.

With every thrust, he put all his weight behind it, pushing deep and retreating almost to the tip before plunging back in again. His eyes never left yours, watching as you felt each inch of him, your body stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You could see the fascination in his gaze as he watched himself disappear into your warmth, his cock disappearing into your body as if it were made for him. And maybe it was—the way your walls clamped down around him, the way your hips rolled to meet each of his thrusts, it certainly felt like it.

Spencer groaned, unable to tear his gaze from the place where your bodies met. The sight was almost too much—the way your pussy swallowed him whole, the way your juices coated his shaft. His hand moved to your hip, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

Your breasts jiggled erratically with each pounding thrust, the nipples hard and sensitive from his earlier attention. The erotic sight was more than Spencer could handle—his eyes were glued to the bounce, watching as your body reacted to his every move.

With a roar that was part passion and part animalistic need, Spencer bent you in half. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your body arched, giving him the most intimate access to your depths. The new angle allowed him to drive harder and deeper, his cock plunging into you without mercy.

Your whines grew louder, your voice hoarse from the pleasure that was bordering on pain. The friction was intense, and the way he filled you up was almost too much. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling in your stomach, tightening your muscles around him.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. You could feel every vein, every throb of his cock, and it was driving you wild.

Spencer’s pace was relentless, his hips moving like a piston, driving in and out of you with a ferocity that was almost frightening. But you were lost in the sensation, unable to think, unable to do anything but take what he was giving you. You were at his mercy, your body his to do with as he desires.

The orgasm that was building inside of you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was as if every nerve ending in your body was alight with pleasure, each thrust of Spencer’s cock sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. It was intense, almost painful in its intensity, and you could feel it coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap.

You gasped out the words, “I’m close, Spencer. So close,” your voice breathless and desperate. His eyes snapped to yours, his own gaze filled with a fierce determination to push you over the edge. He picked up the pace, his strokes growing faster, harder.

And then, as if reading your thoughts, his hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. The pressure was just right, the rhythm in sync with his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure skyrocketing as he stroked you, increasing the intensity by tenfold. Your body tightened around him, your muscles clenching and releasing in an erratic dance that had him groaning in response.

You were so close, so very close. The orgasm was building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to consume you. You could feel it, the impending release, the wave about to crash down on you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your breath coming in shallow pants, and when Spencer’s thumb slid against your clit with just the right amount of force, you almost yelled out.

The sensation was like a bolt of lightning, striking you at your very core. Your body arched off the bed, back bowing as much as it could as the orgasm hit. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire, pleasure coursing through your veins like molten lava. Your pussy clenched around his cock, squeezing him in a vice-like grip as you felt a rush of liquid spill out of you.

You had never felt anything like this before—the intensity of your climax was so powerful that it was almost painful. Your muscles clenched and released in rapid succession, each spasm sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, watching as you gushed around him, your juices coating his thighs.

He was still moving, still driving into you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and thrilling. But now there was something else in his gaze—something primal, something that told you he needed more. He needed to hear you beg for it, needed to hear the acknowledgement that he was the one making you come apart like this.

"Say it," he growled. "Tell me how much you need me to cum inside you."

You didn’t need to think, didn’t need to hesitate. The truth was there, pulsing through your body with every beat of your heart. "I need it, Spencer," you gasped out. "Please, cum inside me."

Spencer’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating with lust. His thumb worked your clit harder, his cock plunging into you with a new urgency that had your toes curling. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice low and gruff.

"I need you to cum deep inside me," you moaned, the words slipping out with ease. "Make me yours, Spencer."

With a feral snarl, he gave into the demand, slamming into you one last time, so deep it was as if he was trying to reach your soul. His cock pulsed, thick and hard, as he filled you with his hot cum, the sensation sending you spiralling over the edge once more. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him for every drop as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your shared orgasm.

Spencer stayed inside you for a moment longer, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of release. His breath was hot and uneven against your neck, his fingers gripping your waist as though letting go might break whatever fragile, beautiful thing had settled between you in the aftermath.

Your body was spent, trembling beneath him, every muscle wrung out and aching in a way that promised to linger. Your legs were still slack over his shoulders, your hips sore from being bent in half for so long. But none of it compared to the deep, satiated warmth flooding your body.

Spencer pressed his lips to your temple, a whisper of something sweet and unintelligible before he finally—reluctantly—pulled out of you. You winced at the loss, a small sound of discomfort slipping past your lips.

He caught it immediately. “Are you okay?” His voice was still thick and heavy with exhaustion, but the concern beneath it was unmistakable.

You nodded, but when you moved to shift your legs, a sharp twinge shot through your hips, making you suck in a breath. “Just sore,” you admitted, your voice raspy.

Spencer’s hands were on you in an instant, his touch impossibly gentle as he smoothed his palms over your thighs, easing them back down. His fingers traced light circles over your skin, coaxing the tension from your aching muscles.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips twitching slightly, though his voice remained tender. “I guess that’s what happens when you let me fold you in half.”

You huffed out a tired laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. He caught your hand before you could pull away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss to your palm before setting it back down.

Despite the teasing, his eyes stayed warm, scanning your face with quiet attentiveness. He could read you better than anyone, and right now, his expression told you he wasn’t going to let you brush off the soreness.

Without another word, he slid an arm beneath your shoulders and another under your knees. His movements were careful, deliberate, as he lifted you effortlessly, shifting you further up the bed so you weren’t half-hanging off anymore. He took his time settling you against the pillows, smoothing a hand down your side before pressing another soft kiss to your temple.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before slipping into the bathroom.

A moment later, the low rush of water filled the quiet.

You barely had time to miss him before he returned, his hands warm as they found your waist, coaxing you onto your stomach with gentle ease.

“A warm bath will help,” he told you, his voice soft, already kneading slow, careful circles into your hips. “The heat increases circulation. It’ll help relax your muscles and reduce soreness.”

You hummed in agreement, your body already melting beneath his touch as his thumbs pressed into the tender spots, working out the tension.

Spencer had always been meticulous in everything he did, and this was no exception. His fingers traced the path of each ache, pressing into the tight muscles with an almost surgical precision. He started at your hips, kneading slow and firm before moving down to your upper thighs, his palms smoothing over the lingering soreness from how tightly you had been held open for him.

Then, as if sensing the exact moment the bath had reached the perfect level, Spencer shifted, pressing one last kiss to your spine before slipping off the bed. A second later, the sound of running water ceased.

He returned just as quickly, his hands finding yours as he helped you sit up. The movement sent another twinge through your sore hips, but he was there, steadying you, keeping you upright with infinite patience.

"Think you can walk?" His voice was soft, but there was an undertone of quiet amusement, like he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I—"

The moment you shifted your weight, your legs wobbled, refusing to cooperate after everything they had been through. Spencer caught you instantly, his grip firm but gentle.

You sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. "Okay. Maybe not gracefully."

Spencer chuckled, tightening his hold around your waist. "I’ve got you," he murmured.

And he did.

With slow, careful steps, he guided you toward the bathroom, letting you lean into him as much as you needed. The warmth of the steam wrapped around you as soon as you stepped inside, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air.

The bath was full, the surface shimmering with a light layer of bubbles. The water looked inviting, and your sore muscles practically ached at the sight of it.

Spencer helped you ease down, his hands steadying you until you were fully settled in the warmth. The heat licked up your skin, the contrast making you shudder as the tension in your body slowly began to unwind.

Spencer lingered for a moment, watching you with something quiet and unreadable in his expression. Then, with a final brush of his fingers along your skin, he murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and stood.

You barely registered him leaving, too lost in the warmth of the water, the way it cradled your sore body. You let yourself sink deeper, the tension melting away with each passing second.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, eyes closed, mind drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. The water lapped gently at your skin, its warmth working into every sore muscle, and for a moment, you let yourself exist in it, weightless and pliant.

Then the sound of quiet footsteps pulled you back.

You blinked your eyes open just in time to see Spencer step back into the bathroom. Your gaze flickered over him, tracing the lines of his lean body, the familiar angles of his hips, the gentle curve of his stomach. He was already a little flushed from the heat of the steam, and when he caught your eyes on him, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Miss me?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it, something warm.

You hummed, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub. “Depends. What did you bring me?”

Instead of answering, he stepped into the bath behind you, lowering himself into the water with a quiet sigh. His legs bracketed yours, his chest pressing to your back as he pulled you effortlessly against him. The warmth of his body only added to the heat of the water, sinking into your skin, wrapping around you like something safe and steady.

“Does this count?” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

You exhaled, your body already melting into his. “It’s a good start.”

Spencer hummed in amusement, his arms looping around your waist, his fingers skimming lightly over your stomach. His touch was absentminded at first, just the slow, lazy drag of his fingertips over damp skin. But then his hands wandered lower, tracing over the sore muscles in your thighs, his touch becoming more deliberate.

“Hurts?” he asked, his voice low against your ear.

You nodded, sighing as he pressed his thumbs into the knots along the inside of your thighs. His touch was gentle but firm, working out the lingering ache with slow, methodical pressure.

“I was a little rough with you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You smiled, reaching down to place your hand over his. “I liked it.”

Spencer let out a soft breath—half a laugh, half something else entirely. His lips brushed the back of your ear, his nose nudging against damp skin as he murmured, “I noticed.”

Heat curled in your stomach, but it was different this time—softer, lazier. You were both too spent to turn this into anything more, too content to do anything but sit there, tangled together in the warmth.

For a while, you just existed like that, the quiet hum of the water surrounding you, Spencer’s hands smoothing over your skin, his breath a steady presence against your shoulder. It felt intimate in a way that went beyond the physical, something unspoken settling between you, something you weren’t quite ready to name.

Then Spencer shifted slightly, reaching for a washcloth.

He soaked it in the water before lathering it with soap, then smoothed it over your shoulder, working slowly, unhurriedly. He worked down your arms, to your wrists, then across your collarbone, taking his time as if there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. When he reached your thighs, he was just as careful, his hands skimming over the lingering soreness with a tenderness that sent warmth curling deep in your chest. And when his fingers slipped between your legs, it wasn’t sexual—it was soft, a quiet act of care that made your breath catch in an entirely different way.

Spencer pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay?"

You nodded, sinking deeper into him. “Yeah.”

Spencer pressed a kiss to your temple before setting the cloth aside. Then, finally, he reached for his own, making quick work of cleaning himself before shifting behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist again.

“We should get out before you fall asleep in here,” he murmured.

You made a small, sleepy sound of protest, earning another quiet chuckle from him.

Still, you let him help you sit forward.

Spencer stood first, stepping out and grabbing a towel before turning back to you. His hands were steady at your waist as he guided you up, wrapping the towel securely around you before grabbing another for himself.

He took his time drying you off, his movements careful and slow. There was something so grounding about it—the way he ran the soft fabric over your skin, the way he made sure you were completely warm before leading you back into the bedroom.

The warmth of the bedroom welcomed you as Spencer led you inside, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the freshly made bed. Your steps slowed slightly as you took in the small changes—clean sheets, fresh bottles of water waiting on the nightstand, the quiet thoughtfulness in every detail.

You hadn’t even noticed him doing all of this, yet somehow, he had.

A quiet sort of surprise settled in your chest, spreading through you in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the bath. Spencer didn’t say anything about it, didn’t draw attention to the care he had taken. He just guided you forward, steady as ever, as if making sure you were comfortable was second nature to him.

Wordlessly, he reached for one of the water bottles, twisting off the cap before pressing it into your hands. “Drink it slowly,” he murmured.

You nodded, lifting it to your lips and taking a few small sips before setting it aside. When you turned back to him, he was already moving toward the dresser, pulling out a soft tank top and a pair of underwear.

His gaze flicked to yours as he held them out. “Unless you’d rather sleep naked.”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Would that be a problem?”

Spencer’s lips twitched, but he only hummed in response, waiting patiently as you stepped into the clothes. His fingers brushed against your skin here and there, never lingering too long, just small, fleeting touches as he helped ease the fabric into place.

Spencer grabbed his discarded boxers from the floor, shaking them out before stepping back into them. Once they were settled low on his hips, he turned his attention back to you, his fingers brushing over your wrist in a silent check. His gaze traced over your face, searching for any lingering discomfort. Satisfied, he gave your hand a small squeeze before stepping over to the bed.

He pulled back the covers, motioning for you to slip in first before following after you. As soon as he was beneath the blankets, he reached for you instinctively, guiding you closer until your body was pressed to his. One arm curled around your waist, his fingers grazing over the hem of your tank top in absent patterns.

There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, lingering warmth between you, something deeper than exhaustion and far softer than lust.

Spencer’s fingers traced lazy patterns against your side, his touch featherlight, barely there. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the quiet hum of his breathing—it was everything, a rhythm you had never imagined would feel so natural.

You sighed, shifting just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft in the dim light, golden and half-lidded with exhaustion, but still watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. Like he was trying to memorize you, afraid to blink in case this moment somehow disappeared.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at your lips. "I can’t believe we’re here."

Spencer’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering over his face. "In bed? Or…?"

You huffed, swatting lightly at his chest, but this time, he didn’t catch your hand. He let you get away with it, probably because neither of you had the energy for anything more than this lazy teasing. Probably because it was different now, softer somehow, the sharp edges of whatever had existed between you dulled by something warmer, something neither of you had been ready to name before now.

"You know what I mean." Your voice was quiet, not accusing—just full of wonder, of something tender and deep-seated.

Spencer exhaled, his hand stilling on your waist. "Yeah," he murmured, voice low. "I know."

A silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full—full of everything that had led to this moment, full of every argument, every stubborn, exasperated glare, every sarcastic remark. Full of every moment you had spent challenging each other, pushing, pulling, refusing to give an inch—until one day, the fire had shifted from something destructive to something entirely different, something that burned just as intensely but no longer threatened to consume you whole.

Spencer’s fingers moved again, tracing slow, thoughtful circles into your side. "I used to think we’d end up tearing each other apart one day. Like two forces that couldn’t exist in the same space without colliding, without breaking something in the process."

You laughed, the sound muffled against his skin. "So did the team."

"Probably still do," he mused, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But I think we surprised them."

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "We surprised ourselves."

Spencer didn’t argue. He just looked at you, something unspoken shifting in his expression, something too vast to put into words. He swallowed, as if trying to find something to say, but for once, he had nothing. No facts, no statistics, no carefully crafted words—just you, just this.

You reached up, smoothing a hand over his cheek, feeling the faint roughness of stubble beneath your palm. "I’m glad," you whispered. "That we’re here. That it’s you."

Spencer’s fingers curled slightly, gripping you just a little tighter, as if to ground himself in the moment. His voice was quieter when he spoke. "Me too. More than you know."

You exhaled, letting your eyes flutter shut, the weight of sleep pulling at your limbs. But before you could drift off completely, you felt Spencer shift, pressing his lips to your forehead, soft and lingering. His breath was warm, his presence steady, unwavering.

"Get some sleep," he murmured against your skin. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because you were safe. Because you were where you belonged.

Because you were his, and he was yours.

And for the first time in a long, long time, everything felt exactly as it should be. No more resisting, no more second-guessing. For so long, friction had kept you apart, pushing and pulling, igniting sparks that threatened to burn everything down. But now, it was different. Now, it was warmth, steady and sure, something to lean into instead of fight against.

Everything else faded—the past, the doubts, the stubborn refusal to see what had always been there. All that remained was the warmth of him beside you, the steady cadence of his breath, and the quiet truth that you had finally stopped resisting what was meant to be.

The End. Part One

[scaraobsession]

Categorically Yours⎯ ♡

⎯ 02. oh wow ;-;

Note: If future written parts don't live up to this one, it's because I used 110% of my sleepless brain for this one and the perfect flavour of insomnia is hard to recreate.

~600 words, Scara x reader

You stare blankly at the whiteboard in front of the lecture hall. On there, a blur of bullet points and philosophical trivia. God, this class is already so confusing. And it’s only the first lecture at that. Nice start with a PowerPoint straight from academic hell.

These are only the basic definitions — easily doable if it wasn’t for the professor trying to make it as confusing as possible. This guy really wants to sound smart. Circling the topic but never getting to the point and instead getting lost in his endless tangents. He must’ve explained the same concept in five different confusing ways by now.

Looking down at your messy notes, you sigh. Even your pink gel pen can’t save them from looking like they belong to a crazy person. Crossed lines upon crossed lines, question marks on the side and of course the doodles that seem to happen on their own the less you understand.

You hold back another frustrated huff. Hu Tao should’ve been here. Stupid fever. Not that she’d help you get any of this crap — she’d be even more lost than you, probably — but she would’ve made it entertaining. Or at least bearable. Like, at least she’d suffer by your side. But nooooo she gets to stay at home and sleep in while you have to endure a lecture that should be forbidden from ever being held again.

Since focusing is no longer an option, you take a look around. Your eyes land on the desk to your left.

Nothing.

No notebook, no laptop, not even a pen is sitting on the desk. All you see is the smooth wooden surface. That's strange.

This is one of those classes where the professor feels really important, so much so that he won’t publish the presentation slides, because “you retain more if you take your own notes”. Maybe the person next to you forgot their writing utensils. Or is just as clueless as you about the words the professor is spewing.

Curiosity wins and you glance sideways — and oh.

He’s pale, like he hasn’t seen the sunlight in God knows how long. His dark indigo hair falls over his forehead in an almost perfect way. Despite his sharp features, he has an unplaceable delicateness. Not from his expression, but from his facial structure.

And he’s just sitting there. Unmoving, staring at the professor with an unreadable expression. Either he’s in the zone, holding on to every word the professor utters, or he’s in the same boat as you.

You decide to take your chances and open a new page on your notebook, scribbling a quick note for him onto the paper. After hesitating for about a second, you slide it onto his desk.

It catches his attention and he takes out a pen from his jacket pocket.

You look at him wide-eyed. Is this guy serious? Or mental? Doesn’t need notes for this lecture? What if he means no notes in general? He must think he’s a gift from God to academia himself if he actually believes he needs zero notes for a lecture where we don’t get the presentation slides.

Upon seeing your (rightfully so) puzzled expression, he snorts and turns away quickly. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his slightly condescending snigger taking away the last bit of doubt. This guy is some kind of genius. Or some kind of asshole with an inflated ego.

Either way, you outed yourself as completely clueless. And now he probably thinks you’re some kind of idiot who thinks Socrates is a skin care brand. How embarrassing.

previous masterlist next

summary⎯ It starts with a note in philosophy lecture. They sit together once, then again. Now they’re texting, sharing notes, and maybe something else they won’t admit. Minor in philosophy, major in denial.

Taglist:

@bittersweetmiko @lizzie-harper @hntft @bubblebellaz @vlynynynyn @rumitome @qjvt7 @insomniacdaydreamss @vi0let-writes @bananasquash @9meree

[onlyyoucanhurtlikethis]

I never would’ve let that happen - one shot, kylian mbappe

The room had settled into that quiet stillness, the kind that came after long nights and half-drunken conversations. Madrid hummed outside, but in here, it was just them—warm skin against warm skin, his arm draped over her waist, his other hand under her shirt, fingers idly tracing the lines of her ribs. He always did that. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it, like he just needed to feel her.

She exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. “I really should’ve known,” she murmured. “It’s actually embarrassing how long it took me.”

Kylian huffed a quiet laugh. “It is.”*

She elbowed him lightly, but he caught her wrist, intertwining their fingers.

“No, but really,” she pressed. “You were right in front of me the whole time, trying to shift things, and I just—” She sighed. “I really should’ve killed you.��

“Okay, first of all, rude,” he said, amused. “Second of all… don’t worry.”*

She turned her head to look at him, doubtful.

“I mean it,” he continued. “Yeah, I always say how you were driving me crazy, and of course, I was frustrated, but also… I knew you. We were great friends before anything else, and I understood how your brain works. You need things spelled out—like, in bullet points, preferably with a PowerPoint presentation.”

She groaned. “That’s so annoying, though.”

“It’s just you,” he said simply, squeezing her hand. “I knew that. I always knew that. You weren’t ignoring me on purpose, you were just… following your own logic. And once you have a rule, you don’t break it, no matter how you feel.”

“That’s just basic self-control.”

“That’s you being you.”

She shot him a look, but he grinned, unbothered. “Do you know how many people say one thing and do another when they catch feelings? They justify it, make excuses. But you? You told yourself we were friends, so you made it a fact.”

She considered that for a moment. “So you don’t actually regret how things happened?”

“No.”

“You’re only saying that because we’re engaged now.”

His smirk deepened. “Obviously.”

“No, but really,” she pressed. “You wouldn’t be saying that if we weren’t. If I’d gone on that date with Rafael, if I’d started seeing someone else…”

His grip on her waist tightened just slightly. “That wasn’t going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” His voice was even, but there was something firm underneath it. “You were never going to fall in love with him. Or anyone else.”

She studied him for a second, trying to decide if that was arrogance or certainty. Probably both.

“Still,” she murmured, “if things had gone differently, i would’ve been the one that got away.”

Kylian scoffed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“No.” His fingers brushed against her skin again, slower this time. “Because I never would’ve let that happen.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “So possessive.”

“You know it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue, letting him pull her in closer, his hand settling under her shirt again, palm warm against her skin. The weight of it was steady, grounding. The kind of touch that said,

You’re here. We’re here. That’s all that matters.

[rockspider556]

Fence Headcanons :)

Nicholas Cox

Literally survives on spite and protein bars.

Always forgets to do laundry until he has one sock left and has to go rogue.

The first time Seiji complimented Nicholas’s form, Nicholas actually dropped his sword.

Cries at sports movies. Don’t ask him about Cool Runnings, it’s a sore subject.

Secretly really good at baking? Like, his muffins slap. It’s the only thing that calms him down before matches.

Is one step away from writing in his diary, “Dear Diary, Seiji said my lunge was ‘adequate.’ I’m in love.” He can’t handle compliments, and Seiji’s deadpan delivery makes it even worse.

Seiji Katayama

Has a secret Pinterest board titled “How to Be a Normal Person.”

Pretends he doesn’t know Niccholas’ schedule. Knows exactly when Nicholas eats lunch, does cardio, showers, breathes.

Thinks “small talk” is talking about fencing footwork at brunch.

Keeps accidentally complimenting Nicholas. “Your form is... improving.” (Translation: “You look really hot when you lunge and I hate how flustered that makes me.”)

Sleeps exactly 7 hours and 43 minutes every night. No more, no less.

Definitely has a Spotify playlist called “Fencing Focus” and it's just classical music and anime OPs.

Harvard once caught Seiji watching a slo-mo video of Nick fencing. When asked why, Seiji said, “Tactical review.” Sure, Jan.

Harvard Lee

Can and will carry 7 grocery bags in one trip to prove a point.

Keeps trying to play wingman for Nicholas and Seiji and doesn’t even realize he’s in a rom-com subplot himself.

Binge-watches reality TV with Aiden and insists it's “cultural research.”

Brings snacks to practice. Everyone likes Harvard. He probably brings homemade trail mix.

Literally the only person Jesse can’t successfully intimidate. Jesse tried once—Harvard just offered him trail mix.

Aiden Kane

Sleeps in until 3 PM and still looks flawless.

Gives off “I have a secret” energy constantly. Spoiler: the secret is just that he has feelings. Ew.

Smokes clove cigarettes for the ✨aesthetic✨ but never inhales.

Secretly writes poetry that would make Lord Byron blush.

Hoards a secret stash of Harvards favourite candy, just in case

Totally flirts with Nicholas just to make Seiji uncomfortable.

Bobby Rodriguez

Has never minded his own business. Wouldn’t know how even if you gave him a manual. He’s the team’s self-appointed romantic consultant and professional meddler.

Has an outfit for every possible occasion, including “dramatic rooftop monologue” and “accidental kiss in the rain.”

The best at comforting people. Like, instant emotional support in a crop top.

Ships Adrien x Harvard like it’s his full-time job. Makes PowerPoints. Adrien has seen one slide and walked away in horror. Harvard gave it a standing ovation.

Made a meme calendar of all the fencing boys. It’s iconic. It circulates every month.

Knows all the drama in the school, even the stuff that hasn’t happened yet.

Jesse Coste

He says he’s over Seiji, but the second Seiji smiles at Nick? Suddenly Jesse’s in a bad mood all week. "I'm just tired," he says, while death-staring a wall.

Has dreams where Nick messes up so badly Seiji gives up on him. Wakes up smug. Realizes it didn’t happen. Gets grumpier.

Every time Nick does something well, Jesse gets this flash of “That should’ve been me.” Then feels gross about it. Then sass-bombs practice to compensate.

[mazzystar24]

My 911 hills I will die on:

Eddie Diaz is gay

Buck has ADHD- the writers could come knocking on my door and tell me that he’s not and I still would argue with them with a PowerPoint and everything

The Buckley parents deserve to go straight to hell and their redemption arc makes me foam at the mouth (negative)

More on that: the insistence of a show that is so deeply rooted in the concept of found family to constantly give shitty parents redemption arcs is so irritating

Maddie Buckley didn’t raise buck since she was 9 years old while dealing with her own trauma or give him her jeep and money (AKA HER LITERAL SAFETY NET TO ESCAPE HER ABUSER) just so people can sit there and call her a bad sister -I’m a Maddie Buckley defender and I stand by that

Both sides were flawed with the lawsuit thing and neither should be too harshly judged- Bobby kept buck out when buck already proved himself but he was doing it out of protectiveness in his own flawed way because let’s be honest he just saw the guy he considers a son nearly die in front of him three times in one year and saw the PT and toll it all took through the whole process and keep in mind he’s already lost 2 kids already but buck also shouldn’t have sued impulsively or disclosed such intimate information and should’ve tried to take a more rational approach but let’s also be fair and remember this is the guy THAT DID GO THROUGH ALL THOSE THINGS IN THAT SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME like no one would be okay mentally, no one would be rational, not when you spend a shit ton of time to recover only to be told (in his brain at least) that it’s not enough from someone you not only consider as a mentor, friend and father figure but also the same person who was motivating you through your recovery

The way Shannon spoke about Christopher’s cerebral palsy will never not rub me the wrong way I’m sorry to any who love her

The way Natalia spoke about bucks death is also just a no from me

I actually hated the whole thing with Hen and the madney engagement like idk why the writing felt it was appropriate to try to compare Hen CHEATING (granted it was ooc and in season one) with Maddie suffering postpartum depression make it make sense- they could’ve had the same level of hen and chimney friendship moment/ hen looking out for him without doing this type of thing which just made me a little angry with hen while watching it but ultimately deciding this storyline doesnt exist in my brain

[haveuevermetme]

personal post, tw: sexual harassment (maybe, maybe not)

i visit online lessons in language i’m trying to learn, these lessons are solely for speaking purposes, teacher divides us in rooms by 2 people and then visits each room one by one to listen to us talk and correct mistakes, help with grammar and vocabulary. most of the time there are only women in our lessons (there were only 2 men i remember of and i talked to one of them, he was fine, didn’t have a problem with him at all), majority of them are older (40+, idk their age for sure, but some of them talked about their adult children (25-30 y.o.) and others about their grandchildren). i loved these lessons and my classmates because everyone came to practice speaking and everyone was sincerely trying their best, we had a lot of mistakes (especially grammatical) but it was fun.

now why i want to talk about it. two or three lessons ago we got new classmates, one of them is a guy. and of course, he became a problem. he’s been to several lessons already but he just doesn’t speak. you ask him absolutely anything (“what do you like to read?”, “what is your favourite national dish?”, “what holidays from your native country or from this country you like most?”, “what computer games do you like?”) and his answers are yes/no or short one-word answers. sometimes i thought he was lying (which is fine, everyone lies a little bit) or answering at random (once i asked him what was his favourite book genre, he said “detectives”, i asked which books, he said “about sherlock holmes”, i said i liked detectives too and my favourite were books by agatha christie, he said he didn’t know who she was. don’t want to criticise but how can you not know who she is if it’s your “favourite” book genre?).

i started dreading getting him assigned to me because with him there was no dialogue involved at all, i was supposed to always ask questions, always imagine topics and basically talk to myself. teacher asked him to speak more and if needed just lie about his “favourite dish or film or what he thinks about the amount of parking spots in the capital” because most important thing here is speaking. once i got him and another girl in a group together (that day we had an odd number of students) and we just talked with a girl completely ignoring him, we only talked to him (asked him each 1 question) when teacher came so we just made it look like we are talking together.

today i got him again, teacher was with us in the beginning then she left. he was his usual self: one-word answers, no sentences, no questions. after she left, i tried to make him play a game (each lesson we get powerpoint presentations with possible topics to discuss, questions and sometimes games like guess what country i’m thinking about), he asked 2 questions and then guessed his own country (it was obvious it wasn’t it, he just didn’t want to guess). i said no and said okay if you want to, you can think of a country, and i will guess. somewhere at this point i started hearing rhythmic sounds (i should’ve probably mentioned that usually everyone turns their cameras on, but he never does so i stopped turning on my camera while talking to him) for which i had only two possible explanations: he was beating a rhythm with his hands or his feet (i don’t know of what he was beating, i just hoped he did), or he was masturbating. i hoped it was a first one, so i just continued guessing his country, his voice sounded pretty normal but then during a pause (i don’t remember what i was doing exactly, either thinking of a question or waiting for his answer) i heard something that sounded like a moan, not loud but still, after that i just turned off the sound, my mic and sat still. then i remembered i could leave this room and wait for everyone in the common room so i did. i don’t know what happened after that, if he said something or did something, i didn’t hear. when i was staying alone in a common room teacher appeared for a second, i think she called for me but i didn’t have a sound on so i didn’t say anything. after everyone returned from their rooms, she asked me about internet connection i told her i fixed it and it’s fine now (she wasn’t mad at me, she knows me already and she knows i don’t just disappear from lessons so she believed i got problems with wifi or something).

i don’t really know what to do now. i don’t want to speak to him anymore, i don’t know if i should tell a teacher or the school (i have a contact of a person who asks me each month if i would like to continue studying and if everything’s alright, and if yes, sends me payment info) because i’m so unsure of what exactly happened and if i actually heard everything right (it’s not like i have great experience of hearing men masturbating on video call so i don’t have anything to compare to), his moan could’ve been a sigh or who knows what, i don’t really want to bring attention to myself by telling everyone i think he is a creep, maybe it’s me who is a creep and who imagines things. so… what do i do?

[ghostpunkrock]

more things I’ve been thinking about, really not trying to clog up the dash

truly sorry to be making so many posts about this but if you’ve been following for a hot minute you already know how much I enjoy them so I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole mess and just how so so so sad I feel for them. Like I can’t imagine what steven must be feeling seeing all that blatant racism directed at him all over a video company that he runs with his friends and he’s put so many of his own creative passion projects on a back burner just to keep them afloat and now having to find out that so many people hate him for it and think he’s the unnecessary third wheel and have just been waiting for a chance to unleash all of that hatred at him. And I’ve also been thinking about ryan a lot like out of the 3 of them he’s the one who’s most open about his mental health struggles and literally every year during making watcher he talks about how scared he is that people won’t like the things he makes and they’ll all turn on him and how worried he is that he’ll let down his friends who he convinced to start this business with him, and then to literally see so many people suddenly say that they don’t like anything he’s ever made at all at watcher and that he should’ve just stayed at buzzfeed making powerpoints, like his worst fear is literally coming to life around him. I really just feel so heartbroken for him.

Like I think the extremity of the internet reaction is due in a large part to the overly-familiar parasocial relationship a lot of fans have cultivated with them (partly under their own encouragement, but that’s thoughts I have for maybe a different time) that turned into this feeling of deeply personal betrayal, but it’s still baffling to me bc if you really did care for them enough to feel this betrayed, how could you also not feel any sympathy towards them? Like yeah obviously casual viewers never actually gave a shit about them as people and they’re showing that, but if you really were following them closely you should know all of this. It’s one thing to disagree with them, but how could you not feel any sympathy?

A common criticism I’m seeing is “they didn’t give any thought to their audience they didn’t think about how this would affect us and they didn’t care about our support or our feelings” and I think that sentiment is a normal human reaction sure, but I also think that in a creator/consumer (more like artist/viewer) relationship that really should go both ways. I think the “bullying works” jokes in this circumstance are tasteless bc it trivializes the feelings of real human people. This wasn’t getting neilman to make the gay angel/demon kiss, people were not just insulting the core of these guys’ livelihoods but publicly and loudly defaming their characters (and also coming after their families! like holy shit!). Like sure they broke trust with their audience that they will have to work to repair, but also the amount of confidence they’ll have to rebuild before they create anything new again… idk I don’t have a concise point I’m just trying to say that as someone who really supported and admired what they were doing I can’t help but feel really really sad for them. This must be so devastating

[labyrinthofcrystals]

Explaining Songs on Norman & Goblin's Playlist

I made a PowerPoint for this AU to show to my friends, and while I'm not going to share the whole thing, I do want to share me going insane over The Crane Wives explaining some of the songs I put on the playlist I made for Norman & Goblin's relationship in this AU. I was going to include Allies or Enemies as well, but that song is more for a scenario & technically a spoiler. idk I think people care about those.

If you want me to explain I put a song on their playlist (or on Goblin's playlist) then feel free to ask!

Goblin in this AU goes by Salem & uses she/her pronouns.

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR

Starting off with the obvious. We all know the lyrics to Never Love an Anchor right. I don’t need to put them here right.

Me when the siblings are doomed but also still love each other but also oh no they’re kinda sick of being doomed together.

All of these songs are from Salem’s perspective btw. So. Really I imagine this her reflecting on everything pre-serum/before she went dormant. Even maybe reflecting on if she should’ve gone dormant (though I’m not sure if it was a choice? Idk brains are weird).

Her choosing to let go and let Norman have a “normal life” when he went off to college, thinking he was finally safe. Only to be forced awake and see that he still needs protecting (in her eyes at least. If he didn’t want that then maybe he shouldn’t have drank green goo). I would also not want to leave my brother’s side ever again after something like that ngl.

EASIER

The only peace I have ever known

Is the peace I made with you

Salem has been with Norman – and JUST Norman – for so long that he’s really all she knows. He’s basically her baseline for everything and she often turns to him when she herself doesn’t know what to feel or think (sometimes changing her opinions to match Norman’s).

And if I were someplace else

And if I were someone else

And if I were not myself, would this be easier?

You see it’s funny because she’s a changeling and can change her form to whatever Norman wants—

No but fr. Sometimes Salem wonders if Norman would like/prefer if she left, or if she was different somehow. And that thought angers her, because he IS the reason she’s like this. And it’s just – if things were different, if they got different bodies when they were younger, would they be better off? Would it have been easier then? Would they even like each other if this happened when they were kids. (I have…an AU. Like this. And ironically it’s reversed: Norman wants Salem’s attention & Salem wants nothing to do with him lmao).

TONGUES AND TEETH

I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel

It's all that I can give to you, my dear

Because they shared a body, Salem used to have to act like Norman. Like…a lot. And yknow, I think we can all agree he was a little shit. So, Salem had to act like that, too, even though she didn’t really want to.

And I know that you mean so well

But I am not a vessel for your good intent

Ough when you try to hard to redeem a villain, but they are still. A Villain.

Yeah overcoming trauma is hard, especially if the person you share that trauma with has moved on and expects so much maturity from you. But for you it was literally yesterday while for them they’ve been able to process it in therapy for decades.

Abandon all your stupid dreams

About the girl I could have been, my dear

What if I just showed the trans flag. What then. 

THE MOON WILL SING

I could have been anyone, anyone else

Before you made the choice for me

SHE COULD HAVE BEEN ANYONE!!! ANYONE!!!! Like yes both in the “she’s a fairy and can shapeshift” way but also. She used to be Norman’s protector…that’s all she was for a very long while.

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

Salem puts Norman on such a HIGH pedestal. Like. Girl why are you worshiping a white man. Help.

I shine only with the light you gave me

She only exists because of Norman (well. Specifically because of his brain). As stated before, everything she is/has is thanks to him. His “greatest creation”. 

METAPHOR

More of a specific scenario but. When your whole life and even POWERS revolve around not being yourself…damn.

You also get pretty good at lying! And uh. Kinda don’t know when to STOP lying. Also. Who are you. Like. Truly.

And nobody believing what you say….because now you’re a known liar…..

AKA Salem has trouble being her own person and Norman does the bare minimum to help with that. 

[tiredelirium]

D.3

Working retail is a chore, the good and the bad.

Overbearing bosses. Challenging customers. Reluctant colleagues.

When the crowds are dead it really feels like you’re wasting your time. When the crowds are constant it feels like time doesn’t exist.

I found this all out in my first job. After a year of looking for jobs, I finally had a chance with my aims being so low as to look for temporary roles. A Christmas gig. The job was simple and complicated all in all. A learning process, but I was, at the very least, always a person who learned best by doing and was good with my hands.

Mistakes were made along the way as always, but they were few and far between. Whatever the case, the temporary role got turned into a call back, albeit ending rather unfortunately in the January.

To celebrate a successful Christmas sales period, our store as a top performing store got to go to a hotel for a meal and to receive an award from the top brass of the region. Despite being a Christmas temp I got invited to come along too and I did. After not drinking for about a year I ended up pretty drunk pretty quickly, but, I guess thankfully, I was more of a somber drunk than an over the top one.

We had rooms in the hotel, but went out for a few more drinks in town first, played some snooker, wandered a frigid night. I gave my jacket away to one of my colleagues who lacked a coat, and after a few hours we all returned to the hotel. Some had work in the morning, including the lad I was roomed with, who chose to get a taxi to his place rather than sleep at the hotel.

I stayed the night, and slept pretty soundly in my drunkeness, with a pretty decent room to myself.

I still wonder from time to time though. It might be all the romance literature and media I’ve slowly consumed all the years, but doesn’t that kind of night feel like the kind of night where someone single should’ve been up to no good? Yet there I was, room to myself sleeping the early morning away.

Come the next week I started to get sick. I’ve never really had hangovers, so I knew something was wrong a few days later when after work I’d lost all energy. I basically collapsed at home and was out like a light for an entire night into day. When I woke up every muscle in my body ached, my head screamed at me, I had no appetite at all, and could barely talk. It was like my throat had had a million tiny razors carved down it.

After four days of whatever the hell that was, the motionless me developed another issue, and I was forced to call in sick again, visiting the GP over the issue. Since I was a temp my manager let me have those days with holiday pay, as my contract was going to end soon anyway. I never got a ‘last day’ of temp work as a result.

After just shy of a month, I was finally more or leas back on my feet again, though the second issue i’d developed was still such. And around the same time my manager contacted me to offer me a permanent position, though it was only part time.

But that was better work offer than I’d had for over a year and a half, so, naturally, I agreed to take the job.

I guess that goes to show despite my own opinions of myself and my ineptitudes, others saw me as reliable. Or maybe they just wanted the extra staff.

I started working there full time, albeit only a handful of days a week, and got to learning more processes. The online training side of things was annoying, if only because it was poorly constructed and mandatory by the company. Unskippable powerpoints, poorly edited training videos, questionnaires with multiple answers yet no way to verify which questions had the multiple answers option or were just singular. Bad design all over the place.

Sorry. Critic in me.

Anyway, I got to know the staff there more. Saw some of the temps not get a call back, and hear reasons why for the most part. And that was it, my first job, and the one i’m still doing close to five years later at this point.

I still don’t know what sickness I got, but considering it was early 2020, end of January, and what would come later for us all, every one i’ve mentioned it to has said the same; “Probably a Covid variant.”

And so life went on. Though I moved through it a bit like a ghost. I don’t really interact with people outside work.

One of the unfortunate truths of going to a university so far from home, is that maintaining friendships from back home becomes that much harder. And I was never good at that to begin with.

If someone doesn’t reach out to you that just means they were never interested in staying friends to begin with.

Thats been the truth for me in the first third of my lifespan.

Work hasn’t changed, in fact, in a way it’s gotten worse. My desire to do other things only grows as the stagnation of the day to day maintains its course. Yet, my previous failings wane all ambition from me at the same time.

In a war of apathy and desire, which do you think should rightly win out?

[lovebecomeshim]

hello! your zutara posting today has finally motivated me to ask this question because I came to atla very late(last year, to be specific) and I Love It Very Much but am 1000% out of the loop as far as why what remains of fandom (at least that I've seen among my friends) is so very strongly zutara. I'm not opposed to it per se I just don't really know what has driven it to apparently be such a popular ship? can you help me understand and maybe convert me a little bit?

Hey!! Your ICON! :D I can try but I’m not sure how coherent I’ll be; however I AM sure someone a lot more competent will be willing to add to this. Either way, I’m glad you asked because my plan was to drag down as many people as possible with me.

*smacks the hood of zutara* this baby can fit so much mutual love and support!

This got so long, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it under a cut on mobile and it already got deleted once so I’m scared to mess with it lol. Moving on.

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer that im on mobile so formatting is tricky and I’m also really new to atla in that I only completed my first watch through in like 2019??? So some of my info is all just based on what I’ve picked up from Discourse 👀 so anyway the sparknotes version: zutara was wildly popular from the beginning. To the point where the atla crew internally disagreed on which ship should be endgame. (Ex. Bryke [showrunners] asked the writers to rewrite The Southern Raiders to make Zuko seem less ideal for Katara than Aang [which failed, depending on who you ask]; the animation team purposefully created a visual parrallel between Oma and Shu in the Cave of Two Lovers and Zuko and Katara in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se in the Crossroads of Destiny; etc.)

The ship was popular enough that Bryke actually chose to display zk fanart at a con for the sole purpose of mocking the fans, but that’s neither here nor there. The entire episode Ember Island Players, while a love letter to/parody of the whole show, was an opportunity to address zutara’s viability as a canon pairing (while, again, mocking zutaras for romanticizing that catacombs scene). Point is! It’s always been popular but with it not being endgame, there’s got to be something that’s given it staying power.

And that’s honestly got to do with three things: their dynamic, thematic cohesion, and potential.

(You know what... you know what, it’s four things. The fourth is they’re so aesthetically pleasing together and individually. Like, they’re just good looking people [specifically when they’re grown but they’re also cute kids] and that absolutely doesn’t hurt) (but it’s not the Point, it’s just nice to point out sometimes)

The dynamic is hard to get into without also looking at the canon pairings, but I think I can do that without unnecessary bashing. It’s just that part of the magic of zutara is really highlighted by what they give to each other that their other relationships don’t.

First off, it’s classic enemies to (would be) lovers. The absolute truest form of it. It’s not too different from how CS started out: a rogue antagonist with a job to do—but no personal vendetta against the future love interest—who is deeply and emotionally invested in his personal storyline (revenge/redemption) with little regard for how it effects other people after his entire life and genuine good nature are marred by suffering, and a fierce warrior girl with a strong moral compass and her own personal investment in stopping him (protect her family and save the world doing it). Obviously frustration and animosity grew between them by the nature of them being on opposing sides, but that just lends itself to the sweetness of their later reconciliation.

The thing is that while they’re wildly different on the surface (he’s a hot-headed prince of a fascist regime who is trying to capture the Avatar to please his father; she’s a nurturing daughter of the chief who is trying to protect and train the Avatar in order to topple his father’s throne) they find out that they have so much more in common both in their experiences and their personalities.

(What follows is an excessive use of the word “both” and I’m sorry about that)(I can edit it. I can do that. That IS an option............)

They both have an innate sense of justice that they are determined to see done (zuko, at the war meeting, sticking up for the Earth Kingdom kid when the guards torment his family, choosing not to steal from the pregnant couple despite his circumstances, abiding by his word to leave the SWT should Aang come willingly, etc.; katara, literally.... at any point). They both have pretty one-track minds at accomplishing certain goals once they’ve put their mind to it, regardless of a lack of support in that endeavor (it goes without saying I guess, but zuko’s entire hunt; katara’s determination to get the earth benders to fight back, her determination to absolutely destroy Pakku until he agrees to teach her, etc.). They both lost their mothers at young ages. Their worlds are war-torn and traumatizing to them both, if in different ways, but that ultimately forces them to grow up too quickly to be wholly independent individuals. They both have issues with their fathers (for WILDLY different reasons, but). They both hold extreme prejudices that they need to learn to overcome (which ties into thematic cohesion)(bit like Lizzie and Darcy in that way but magnified by a million). They’re both extremely emotional and empathetic—which can and often does result in loud outbursts. Katara’s a bit better adjusted and can temper her anger for longer than S1 Zuko can, but they both feel that anger deeply and have no compunctions expressing it (Katara is, usually, more justified, particularly in S1. Again, S1 Zuko is severely maladjusted but at the point when they could’ve feasibly become a couple, he’s so much better off with the way he carries himself). They both struggle with feelings of inferiority in their bending abilities when confronted with prodigal benders like Aang and Azula, but have the work ethic required to double down and become two of the most powerful benders in the three remaining nations. This is a little more minor but it is a parrallel that appeals to some shippers that they both have these alter egos in the Painted Lady (notably fire nation coded) and the Blue Spirit (water tribe coded) that are pretty different from who they are day-to-day and are useful in accomplishing a purpose that they as themselves cannot.

(I’m.... I just realized that this could potentially get very long. Should I have made a slide show with bullet points??????)

Anyway, similar. I know there’s more but there’s literally so much to love about zutara that I’ll drive myself a little crazy trying to compile all the ways they’re similar. (Just gonna say that at this exact moment I went back to add more similarities.... so okay then)

Once they’ve reconciled, we see how all of these things only lend themselves to a deeper intimacy together than they share with literally anyone else. There’s a steady partnership that positions them as the mom/dad of the gaang, while also providing the support necessary to allow the other to not have to carry so much responsibility. A lot of zutaras will point out how zuko is actually depicted doing the more domestic chores that are normally relegated to Katara once he joins the gaang, since the others in the group are two 12-year-olds and sokka. The one that sticks out the most is how he makes tea for the group and then serves them, while Katara is able to just relax with her friends around the fire. Fanon expands upon this a lot to Zuko helping with the laundry or the cooking or whatever else needs doing since he, as a once-refugee, is used to doing his own domestic tasks. Before Zuko joined, Katara was the one mothering everyone, sewing for them, cooking for them, etc. She’s always tending to the needs of the group, and that includes emotionally. She does the emotional labor for the gaang 99% of the time, but when she’s the one falling apart, she’s usually doing it alone and without the comfort that she normally provides for others. Until Zuko. And that’s before they’re even friends.

Which is WHY people romanticize the catacombs of Ba Sing Se so much. Katara is verbally attacking Zuko out of her own righteous anger but also her own prejudice when Zuko, surprisingly, chooses to be vulnerable with her. He’s been on a journey that’s opened his eyes a bit, but he’s never actively chosen to expose the rawest parts of his past to anyone. But for some reason he chooses to do that with Katara of all people. While she’s yelling at him. He sees her humanity, and for once can look past his prejudice and empathize with her. And this time, when she breaks down, she gets to be comforted. Katara normally talks about her mother when she’s trying to explain to someone else that she sees and understands they’re pain, as a form of comfort to them. Here, Zuko uses the exact same tactic. He sees her and he understands. And for zuko? He’s not being shut down. He’s allowed to articulate his pain regarding his mother without being ignored and made to internalize it, and he’s allowed to process how he feels about his scar out loud without being told that he deserved it. And then he lets her touch his scar, something we’ve seen him actively avoid before. He’s completely open to her and she’s completely open to him and all it took was one five minute conversation. She was about to use the little bit of Spirit water that she had, that she was saving for something Important, to heal the scar that still daily causes him pain just because they had, somehow, connected.

Plus there’s the whole parallel to the star-crossed lovers forbidden from one another, a war divides their people—

And then zuko messes up, he regresses, he gets what he wants and he HATES it. And the sense of justice he had as a child has been restored to him against his will and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than the Right Thing, so he joins team avatar. Before he does that though, we get to see his relationship with Mai, which is where comparison really comes in. And what we see is Zuko, fresh off of his encounter with Katara in the catacombs, trying to be emotionally honest with Mai... and getting shut down and dismissed. Which is just how Mai is and it’s fine, but not for Zuko. Still, he keeps trying, and he keeps getting ignored or scoffed at or yelled at. Which is really a larger symbol for how he doesn’t fit in his old life anymore, but again that’s about thematic cohesion. He tries to articulate his anxieties about returning home, he tries to make romantic gestures, he tries to explain how morally conflicted he’s feeling—and Mai diverts to some kind of physical affection to shut him up and a parting comment that is pretty much always, in essence, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” So they don’t. On the other hand, once zuko and Katara are friends, we see him again emotionally distraught and caught up in his anxieties about facing Iroh, and it’s Katara who comes to him and listens to him and comforts and encourages him.

Similarly, we have Aang clamming up and getting uncomfortable whenever Katara shows any negative emotion, usually resulting in him making excuses or running away. Or, in the case of the Southern Raiders, lecturing her on how she needs to just let go of her anger about her mother’s murder. People have talked this episode to death and usually better than I ever could, so imma... keep it brief. There’s a serious disconnect between Aang and Katara in his ability to empathize with Katara and her needs that has her tamping down her vulnerability and amping up her anger. He tells her that he was able to forgive his people’s genocide and appa’s kidnapping (petnapping? Theft??), which is blatantly not true but also not an entirely equal parrallel to Katara’s situation, and continues making these little remarks throughout the episode. But it’s Zuko that Katara opens up to. It’s with him that she’s able to talk about the most traumatic day of her life, and it’s with him that she’s able to get the closure she needs, cementing their bond as friends and partners. This disagreement between Aang and Katara is then... never resolved. They just never bring it up and hear what the other is saying.

There’s a fic called The Portraits of Ember Island that has a line that so completely sums up the heart of the matter for why people love their dynamic. For context, zuko has woken up early to help Katara with the cooking and they spend the whole time just letting one another talk, and zuko stops to ask why she always just lets him talk. And so she stops to ask why he’s always helping, and it goes as follows:

There’s just... so much mutual support! Trust! Intimacy!! And it just continues like that from the Southern Raiders on, listening to each other, advising each other, watching each other’s backs! And then! Literally saving each other’s lives!! I will never be over the last Agni kai. Not ever. Zuko may have been willing to jump in front of lightning for anyone, but he actually did it for Katara. And in a show, that’s the thing that really matters. It’s a fulfilled trope usually exclusively applied to romantic pairings, and it ended up applying to Zuko and Katara. And then she ran out into the middle of a fight with tunnel vision just to get to him.

Also!! Also Zuko pushing Katara out of the way of the falling rocks at the Western Air Temple!! And Katara catching him as he fell from the war balloon that he fought Azula on!! Before they’re even getting along, they’re the ones reaching for each other. They come to this place of equal ground, as partners, who watch each other’s backs, call each other out but still listen attentively and understand, and provide the support that the other has been sorely lacking up until they knew each other (whether that be from lack of effort or lack of understanding from others, or an unwillingness to accept it for themselves).

Then, trailing along under the surface of this, we see the themes of the show totally embodied by Zuko and Katara as individuals and in their relationship to one another. There’s a YouTuber, sneezyreviews, who has a, like, 2-hour explanation on why she not only loves zutara but also believes that their endgame would’ve actually elevated the writing of atla to new levels particularly because of thematic cohesion and resolved character arcs. It’s the zutara dissertation I never knew I needed, and it’s funny and eloquent and effective, so I’m just going to sum up her section on thematic cohesion to the best of my abilities and then link it for whenever you have the time. And I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want a full understanding of what makes zutara so great and gives it such longevity.

Guru pathik has a line that goes something like this: separation is an illusion; things that seem different are just two parts of the same whole. Iroh also tells Zuko something similar: balance and strength are achieved when the different nations come together and influence one another and celebrate what makes them each unique. And this lesson is a massive central arc that both Zuko and Katara go through, moving past a black-and-white, good guys-vs-bad guys, us-vs-them mentality and into a greyer, more nuanced view of the world. Zuko sees the fire nation from an entirely new perspective and while he still loves and hopes for his nations future, he surrenders his blind loyalty to them in exchange for an unflinching loyalty to peace and love. Katara too had to come to terms with the fact that cruel people exist in the earth kingdom and water tribes, while some fire nation citizens are just regular, kind people who also need and deserve to have someone speak on their behalf. And this is honed in directly on how they view each other. They grow in their individual journeys to be open to the humanity in the other and then, once they’ve found that, they’re able to grow more in compassion for others in a beautiful feedback loop. And this is all matched in the symbolism repeatedly and intentionally associated with them in canon: sun and moon, fire and water, yin and yang, Oma and Shu who found love despite their warring nations. Their individual arcs are completed in each other and complement the themes of atla beautifully.

The canon pairs... just don’t. Which, again, is fine. But the very things that give atla longevity and popularity are anchored in zutara. Kat@ang doesn’t accomplish this. They’re... nice. Sweet. Especially when you erase a good portion of their interactions in S3. It could’ve been just a sweet love story. (Personally, the dynamic between toph and aang accomplish the same thing that zutara does, with complementary personalities that fulfill the theme of opposites blending in harmony) M@iko, on the other hand, is less sweet but I think wasn’t even supposed to last. Zuko’s relationship with Mai seems to represent his relationship with his old life as a whole. He can’t be emotionally vulnerable, he’s goaded into abusing his privileges, his agency and opinions aren’t respected. They just don’t have common ground with which to discuss anything that matters, so they don’t. As far as themes, the relationship doesn’t fit with atla. It’s zuko returning to and sticking with what is (on the surface) like him, what’s expected. Fire nation with fire nation. Fluid water bender with the flexible air bender. Like with like, separated from what is different and challenging and complementary.

And all of these things combined of course lead to the potential for the ship. I don’t know how familiar you are with the post-atla canon but... well, miss “I will never turn my back on people who need me”, miss “I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!” ends up living quietly in the SWT as a designated healer who turns a blind eye to the water tribe civil war happening right outside her front door. Which can be fine! People change! Some people just wanna stay inside. I just wanna stay inside! But the potential future for zutara is so much more satisfying, with Katara becoming the most unconventional Fire Lady the uppity old cads who are stuck on the old ways have ever seen. Fanon has her serving as a voice for the other nations within a kingdom at the point of its biggest political upheaval, as a confidante to Zuko who can actually help him while he’s trying to figure out how to move forward and make reparations. They have the opportunity, together, to accomplish what they both have set on their hearts to fight for: positive change that lends itself to harmony and balance. And the steambabies! A popular headcanon is that their firstborn daughter, the crown princess, is actually a waterbender, which causes such an uproar among the people who are adamantly clinging to the old ways. It’s just a future full of potential to be forces for good together, full of trust, intimacy, joy. The exact era of peace and love and balance that zuko announces that he intends to ring in with the start of his reign as Fire Lord is, again, magnified by the very personal zutara relationship. And we love to see it.

tl;dr zutara isn’t for everyone. Some people just don’t vibe with it. Some are nostalgic. Some love the canon they grew up with. Some have been disappointed for years. Some just see themselves in other characters and want their happiness instead. Whatever the reason, that’s fine. But for me, I love the way these two, from the moment they give each other a fair chance, are able to lower their walls and prejudices to see the other for the kindred spirits they are. They see each other’s humanity, and their response is to pour out love and support and compassion. I love that they’re a power couple in battle. I love the symbolism and, honestly, soulmatism that colors their every interaction. I love that they embody the whole storyline of atla in their relationship and how it develops, which is notably why their seasonal arcs always culminate in each finale with how they relate to one another. I love that zuko adopting a waterbending move is what actually saves his life and then katara’s. I love the chemistry! And I love the future they could’ve had, instead of the ones they were given.

So, in conclusion: I just think they’re neat and I hope you do too, at least a little bit. Even if it’s just respectfully from a disinterested distance cause you do you. And now here is the video I mentioned. I’m sorry this post got so long and then I gave you an even longer homework assignment, but I can’t recommend it enough. She says it all better than I can.

[venusloveslobotomies]

Kyle and Kenny x reader meeting

(all characters aged up to 18-20)

Kyle:

“Oh! God… fuck!” You haphazardly wiped your keyboard before the water could seep further in. Bebe snorted and you smacked her, trying not to laugh.

“Girl, what is going on with you? You’ve been all distracted since lab this morning?”

“I knowww.” You groaned, “I keep thinking about how much work that class is going to be.” Wendy rolled her eyes playfully.

“We all know that it’s because Kyle’s in that class and your hoping to be his partner.” She sang at you, taking another bite of her salad.

“No… no. Why would you think that?” You closed your laptop, looking away.

“Y/N, it’s ok! Kyle’s actually really nice. Just a bit standoffish to girls. He’s got trust issues, thanks to Eric.” Wendy tried to reason.

“Yeah, no shit. He won’t even look at me.”

“He’s just insecure! I bet if you asked him out-“

“Absolutely not!” You interrupted Wendy, “I can’t even talk to him normally! How am I supposed to ask him out? I’ve never been good at talking to guys! Let alone someone who’s actually smart and attractive, like Kyle.” Your comments were met with silence, actually, more like barely-held-down laughter, “What?” Bebe stared pointedly to your left. You mentally cursed yourself a million times before glancing carefully where Bebe had indicated. Stan and Kyle stood there, bags and books in hand. Stan was smirking at Kyle and Kyle had looked up and away from you.

“Kyle, you should be Y/N’s lab partner! She’s really smart! And nice!” Wendy quipped, quickly breaking the tense silence.

“Uhm, what? Oh! Yeah, sure. If… uhh… she wants to.” You stared down at your water bottle, feeling the awkwardness in your teeth. You could feel the girls looking at you before Wendy responded,

“She would love to.”

Kenny:

You leaned against the wall, watching Craig blow smoke into Tolkien’s face, making him cough while the rest of you laughed.

“Goddamn… Fuck off.” Tolkien coughed at Craig.

“You should’ve driven us to KFC, man.” Craig shrugged.

“Your lunch is almost over anyways, we’ll go after Y/N’s last class.”

“Sweet!” You smiled excitedly.

“So… Y/N…” Tolkien looked at you mischievously.

“Soooo what?” You responded, taking a drag of Craig’s joint.

“I heard Mccormick wants to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Craig snorted and Tolkien smacked his arm before continuing, “Stan told Wendy and Wendy told Bebe, who told Clyde, that he’s wants to talk to you in your English class.” You furrowed your brows at him and sighed.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out. Doesn’t he, like, hoe around a bit?”

“That’s what it seems like, but he’s a good dude. Much nicer than Cartman. I honestly don’t know why they hang out.” Craig huffed. You nodded and shrugged as you checked the time. 12:49. English class. You guessed you would find out what the hell was going on in about ten minutes.

“Ok, I gotta roll. See you guys at 4? Tolkien’s car.” They all made various sounds of assent as you wandered through campus to your class.

As you sat down next to Jimmy and pulled out your notes, you heard someone pull out the chair to your right. Looking up, you realised it was Kenny… with is hood down for once.

“Hey…” He sat down and began tapping his foot nervously.

“What’s up?” You asked, leaning back in your chair.

“Well, I missed yesterday’s class and I need some help catching up. Can you, like. Uhh… maybe help me out? I just missed, like, all of the stuff about the essay topics and requirements.” He seemed to be looking everywhere but at you. And you knew damn well that stuff was all on the Powerpoints.

“Sure, why not. My place, tomorrow? Just bring me coffee and its a deal.” You figured you may as well take what he said at face value. He seemed to have lost his laid-back and confident facade.

“Awesome! Uhh. Just let me know what time.” He gave you a bright smile and pulled out his notebook as the teacher started the lesson.

pls pls be nice, i havent ever written for south park before but i want to get back into writing <3

[lextheartguy]

I made a thing. (excuse the formatting, I should’ve made it a powerpoint but instead its just a bunch of screenshots of spreadsheets)

[multi-lefaiye]

the moon hides its breath - wip intro

it's finally here..... another wip intro for tumblr user multi-lefaiye.... another powerpoint

anyway here we are! the intro for my funky road trip story that's taken over my brain these past few days <3

tentative taglist for now (ask to be added or removed!!): @skitzo-kero @wherearetheplants @historicalwar @abysslll @albatris (apologies if i missed anyone ASDFJKL brain mushy)

alright, slides under the cut!

[Slide Transcript:

THE MOON HIDES ITS BREATH

Or: maybe the real cults we dismantled were the friends we made along the way

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

PREMISE

A group of near-strangers (a monster hunter, a respected former scientist, a courier, a doctor, and a radio host) go on a road trip together in a post-apocalyptic world to put a stop to a murderous cult that wants to cause the second apocalypse.

The whole time, they’re being hunted down by various people who want to stop them for a wide variety of reasons.

Also, there’s a pair of violent demigods traveling around wreaking havoc, and the gang is trying to stop them too before anyone is killed in the resulting chaos.

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

A LITTLE WORLDBUILDING

The world ended 5000 years ago when a series of large meteors struck the planet. Really, all life on the planet should’ve ended as a result. It didn’t, though.

A series of gods known as The Pantheon awoke in the aftermath of this apocalypse and intervened to prevent the world from completely ending. A little over half of all life on the planet was saved.

These gods inadvertently awoke magic in this world, and now, 5000 years later, magic is commonplace and has shaped the new world in dramatic ways.

Also, a bunch of new religions sprung up, one of which is called Lunism. Lunism states that these gods who saved the world are imposters and must be slain, so that the true gods may rise and take their place.

Even if that would end the world a second time

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

SETTING

This takes place in the year 5015 P.A., in several locations across the Consolidated Regions of America. Yeah, some shit went down in this world.

At heart, this is a road trip story, with each arc taking place at one of the stops on the way.

Each arc of the story takes place at or near one of the stops they make on the way, taking place over the course of three or so months.

The end goal is to reach the city of Arcadia before an eclipse set to happen in late July, at which point the gods are supposed to awaken again.

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

THEIR ROUTE

Here’s the approximate route the gang will be taking through the CRA! It should be noted that the states as we know them aren’t really a thing anymore, and instead the U.S. is divided into various regions.

Luna, Luntellus -> Mirage, Austertera -> Moonlight, Luntellus -> Satellite, Maedflovius -> Rockburne, Hailenus -> Bricktown, Vastatian -> Tyto, Vastatian -> Jericho, Adulaton -> Firelight, Talion -> Arcadia, Talion

There may be some smaller stops on the way but these are the major ones.

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

OH AND HERE'S A MAP

/ End Transcript]

(i unfortunately don't have the energy for image IDs rn so uhhh just know it's a map of the U.S. but there's a big hole in the west and there are no states--everything's divided up into regions now)

[Transcript:

CHARACTERS

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

MIHAEL KOZLOV (he/him)

Hunter (essentially a monster hunter/mercenary) living in the city of Anchor, visiting his sister Valentina and her wife

Grumpy and rude, rarely does anything for anyone else out of the goodness of his heart

Limited magical abilities related to fire, a result of a deal he made with a fiend as a teenager

A good person deep down

He’s just so babygirl to me

/ End Transcript ]

[Slide Transcript:

DR. GAIA DIVITA (they/she/he)

Former scientist at the New Moon Research & Development Center, studying magic and corruption

Blood on their hands, both figuratively and very, very literally

Found half-dead and covered in blood by Mihael, who was kind enough to rescue them

Going to hunt their old bosses for sport

Mostly just kind of sad and tired

Pretty fucking unhinged tho lmao, especially as the story goes on

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

VALENTINA KOZLOV (she/her)

Mihael’s baby sister

Wife of Felicia, making her living as a courier traveling between cities

She always comes home to Felicia, though <3

Better driver than Mihael, in her own words

Hot-tempered and rude, but she has others’ best interests at heart and does want to do good in the world

Frequently teases her older brother

No magic of her own

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

FELICIA KOZLOV (she/her)

Valentina’s wife, who works as a mender (basically a doctor) in the city of Luna

Strong drive to help people and make the world a better place

Generally very kind, but takes no shit

Very limited magical abilities, a rare example of someone with inherent magic. She can heal both people and objects--a mender in a very literal sense

Quiet and gentle, generally a source of good advice

The brain cell in her relationship

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

GLASS HOLTZ (they/them)

One of Mihael’s old friends, a radio host located in the city of Mirage

Bit of a conspiracy theorist, but they’re really not wrong

Has some magical abilities after making a deal with a fey when they were young. These abilities give them a natural charm and an uncanny luckiness that has followed them through their life

Keeps a shotgun in the radio station

Generally friendly, a smartass who loves to joke around

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

EXPERIMENT V-35: EVE (they/them)

Demigod, though not in any traditional sense

Once went by a different name and had a different identity

However, after years of torture and brutal experimentation, Eve has assumed a new identity and now seeks vengeance against their torturers

Cunning and manipulative, willing to do anything to get what they want

Absurdly tall

Terrifying innate fire magic

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

EXPERIMENT D-4M: ADAM (it/its)

Demigod, created as the counterpart to Eve

Loves arson

EXTREMELY codependent with Eve, essentially relies on them to feel any purpose in its life

Will do anything for Eve’s attention, making it very easy to manipulate

Also was once a different person with a different identity, but that person is long dead

Also absurdly fucking tall

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

DR. VITALY LAZARUS (he/him)

Fantasy Elon Musk

An extremely wealthy and well-respected innovator, though much of his fame comes from being the son of Dr. Sasha Lazarus, a famed philosopher

Loves committing atrocities against humanity

Believes wholeheartedly that the world is flawed and needs to be reset through another apocalypse

Headed the torture and experiments that created Adam and Eve

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

THE HUNTSMAN (she/her)

Girlboss mercenary/hitwoman

Usually wears a skull mask but the sunglasses were the closest I could get in this picrew

Has a big ol’ arsenal of axes and guns and other weapons

Drives a big scary suped-up truck

Currently hunting the gang for sport, especially Mihael

I don’t know what her gender or orientation are and I’m not going to ask

BIG fan of murder

/ Slide Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

SOME VIBES AND THEMES I SUPPOSE

Essentially yeah this is a road trip story but with the additional stakes of “oh we need to prevent a potential second apocalypse”

Another big theme is one of guilt and whether it’s possible to make up for horrible things you’ve done, as well as how far you may have to go to actually Do That

Also the rippling effects that a single good deed can have, for better or for worse

And the consequences of playing god

And this is a Multi Lefaiye Certified WIP™ so of course shit’s gonna get introspective as hell

Maybe the real cults were the friends we made along the way and went on a cross-country road trip with

/ End Transcript]

[Slide Transcript:

THANKS

/ End Transcript]

[chateautae]

the most wonderful time of the year | kth. (m)

➵ summary :  taehyung hasn’t seen you since high school graduation, but when he finds himself in need of a date for his friend’s annual christmas party, running into you is like a godsend; especially when he once had feelings for you, and little did he know, you felt the same way all along.

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, smut

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 19k

➵ warnings : mutual pining, sexual content, swearing, dom!tae, cuddling resulting in over the clothes stuff, rough fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, big dick!tae cause we know he’s packing, marking, restraint (with his own hands), choking, begging, unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), hitting it from the back 😜, mirror (?) sex (reflection of a window), rough sex but then i love you sex, praising, slight humiliation, denied orgasm, creampie, aftercare

part of ksmutclub’s winter project 2020!, using prompt #7: “did everyone else come with a date?”

➵ a/n : thank you to @getmemyfries​ for beta-reading and constantly reassuring me about this fic, idk where she’s been all my life 😭, but surprise!! would you believe me if i told you guys i grinded this in just 3 days?? because YES i did, 19k in three days as a Christmas gift pretties, happy late holidays!!, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

“Are you serious, Jimin?” 

“Very. I don’t know how you didn’t get the memo, literally everyone was talking about it.” 

“Did everyone else come with a date? There has to be at least one person who didn’t.” 

“And that one person is you, Tae. Did you forget that I made the theme all about mistletoe? Who did you expect to kiss under it, me?” 

“Super funny, Jimin. I just got really busy and I don’t even think I was paying attention to you.” 

“Well, it’s your loss now, everyone came with a date and you’ll be third-wheeling the whole night. You can’t blame us either, it’s cuffing season and you know it.” 

“Do I really have to come? I’ll just spend Christmas with my family.” 

“And ruin their vacation with your annoying ass? What a lovely son, an even better best friend for ditching my party.” 

“Okay, Jimin, I get it. Just-fuck, alright, I’ll find someone. Please tell me you didn’t plan anything too couply in case I have to bring an absolute stranger.” 

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” 

And Jimin cut the call without a second to spare. 

Taehyung stood there baffled, appalled by his best friend for not even having said goodbye. But then again, maybe he really deserved it. Taehyung had just become too busy with his job this year to even think about Jimin and his friends’ party, allowing it to inhabit the back of his mind and loom over him for weeks, though not giving it the time of day he should’ve. 

And now he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t know how to get out of. The party is in just two days, how exactly was he supposed to find someone that would even agree to accompany him? 

One, they would have to be someone explicitly bored on Christmas Eve. Two, comfortable with meeting complete strangers and spending an entire night with them. Third, they would have to be willing to even fake-date him. 

Taehyung knew he could at least satisfy the third requirement with just a smidge of his charm and good looks, though the real issues were the other two requirements, especially the first one. 

Who the fuck is ever doing nothing on Christmas Eve? 

These are the exact thoughts that clouded Taehyung’s mind, sighing heavily as he dejectedly sauntered into a coffee shop after work. It wasn’t the usual place, but he decided on a new one in search of a possible partner; even if it were a stranger from a different coffee shop, he’d take what he could get. 

It’s precisely why he began scanning the room just enough to discern any potential date as he waited in line. With his hands in his pockets, lips buried into his plaid scarf that draped over his brown winter coat, and attempted to make eye contact with any female he thought eligible. 

He spotted some cute girls, though made quick judgements about them not fitting his requirements; some meeting boyfriends, family, yapping away about Christmas plans as though the whole store needed to hear about it.

Pulling out his phone, he considered he had some female friends, maybe co-workers he could convince to tag along. It sounded like a great idea in his head, though when he scrolled though his contacts carefully, he found himself coming up short once again. 

Not only had he seen his friends’ stories, all flaunting their very apparent Christmas plans, but even more so his co-workers having literally informed him about either flying back home, meeting family or easing up far, far away on a tropical beach. 

And he definitely knew there’d be no one available. 

All of it made Taehyung feel deflated once he had placed his order and waited patiently by the store’s counter. He thought he was royally fucked, needed to forego social etiquette and just ask a damn stranger at this point. 

Sighing yet again, he mindlessly looked over to the side, catching a glimpse of the person ordering after him with a voice he suddenly recognized. Taehyung’s eyebrows immediately shot to the sky once he took a double-take, a near injustice to say he was only shocked. 

He was practically floored, had to rub his eyes a few times just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Surely he’d lost it after the gruesome shift he just pulled at work, because he was pondering how in God’s name was he seeing you of all people ordering. 

How the hell did you manage to look 100x prettier than you used to, Taehyung thought. It was no doubt you; your smile still charming as ever, your hair still elegantly soft, your eyes still naturally sparkling under every Christmas light in the store just like they always did. 

It was really you. 

The same you he knew all throughout high school though moved away after graduation, the same you who was brilliant at every subject though could never understand math, the same you who waltzed into school with that plaid winter coat anyone could recognize you for, the same you who always teased him about his love for pineapple on pizza because you could never comprehend the taste. 

The same you he once liked.   

It was actually you, bundled up in a gray winter coat and white scarf as you smiled a thank you to the barista, eventually making your way over to the counter Taehyung was situated at, settling next to him without having noticed. 

Taehyung thought you were an angel sent from heaven, a Godsend, his one and only true saviour once he studied you up close, concluding that you weren’t just some mirage but in fact his real-life friend from years ago who could possibly rescue him from this Christmas party fuck up. 

And so he didn’t waste a single, valuable moment, because you know what they say, ‘carpe diem’, oh captain my captain. 

“Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

Your surprised eyes snapped towards the oddly familiar low voice, eyebrows shooting up once you resgitered just who exactly said your name. You seemed to be in the same disbelief as Taehyung, himself utterly grateful you’d actually recognized him. 

“Oh my God, Kim Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Taehyung laughed shyly. “Damn, how long has it been? 5? 6 years?” 

“6 years, yeah.” You confirmed with a smile. “Since graduation.” 

“I can’t believe that was 6 years ago, seems just like yesterday.” Taehyung couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face remembering the chaotic party by the lake you all threw together, resulting in someone nearly drowning, Taehyung downing more alcohol than he ever had in his life, and you shamelessly shoving everyone into the water until you eventually capsized yourself. 

Taehyung had to collect himself to coherently speak sentences again, nearly feeling his neurons incessantly firing off in his brain. “But wow, when did you come back to town?” 

“3 months ago, I was transferred for work.” You informed casually, though your sweet smile was infectious. “Wow, I’m.. I can’t believe I ran into you here.” You were honestly still shocked, marveling at the fact you somehow bumped into Kim Taehyung, the Kim Taehyung from high school.  

The same Taehyung who teased you about being terrible at math, the same one who only ever brought strawberry jam sandwiches to school and God forbid someone ever took a bite. The same Taehyung who was the cute social butterfly everyone completely adored at school. 

The same Taehyung you once liked.   

“It doesn’t feel long indeed, but you look.. different.” You did a light scan of him, noticing just how how much taller, more handsome and manlier he appeared. It was reflected in the edge of his jawline, crisp face structure and broader upper body. 

Quite frankly, he looked incredibly striking, almost intimidatingly so, and you could only think about when Taehyung used to appear a little scrawnier, lankier though still attractive all the same with his adorable eyes and plushy lips. 

It was nearly daunting to see the gorgeous difference now. 

“You look different too.. good different.” He added with a smile as he looked you over, and it was pleasant to see he still had that same boxy smile, the same little creases at the corner of his eyes. Though instead now, his smile looked devilishly handsome, and it was hard to not trip over your own feet about it. 

“You too. You’re so much taller now.” You commented, craning your neck just to converse with him. 

“And you’re still short, huh?” 

Your mouth flew open, scandalized at the comment though laughed when he chuckled at your expression. “Oh c’mon, you’re still gonna tease me about how short I am? It’s been six years, Taehyung.” 

“Hey, don’t think it’s not payback for all those times you lectured me about how ‘inhuman’ liking pineapple on pizza was. I still have your PowerPoint presentations saved.” Taehyung retorted through a laugh, remembering the way you’d really take the time to conjure up presentations just so he could be  unconvinced of the preference. 

“Okay, okay. You got me. Is there ever a way I could make it up to you... Assistant Curator Kim?” You read the lanyard that hung around his neck, inspecting it to see his ID photo along with his job title. 

“Ah,” Taehyung exclaimed, scrambling for the lanyard. “I was in a rush to get out of work so I left it on by accident.” Taehyung explained a little embarrassed, unhooking it from around his neck. 

“Why were you in a rush?” You knitted your eyebrows together, only asking out of innocent curiosity, though Taehyung lit up like a Christmas tree, knowing this was his golden opportunity and he was definitely going to take his chance. 

“Uh.. do you still remember Park Jimin and the rest of our friends?” Taehyung started. 

“Oh my God, of course I do! You’re all still friends?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. I mean, even when we get tired of each other we know nobody else will put up with us, so we’re still close.” Taehyung snickered, remembering him and his friends were still the same 7 dorks from high school. 

“Awh, I wish I could see them, we used to have so much fun together.” You pouted, shoving your hands into your pockets as you recalled amusing memories from years ago; stupid adventures to the lake by your school, chasing the sunset, knowing you probably incessantly bothered the owner of that one gas station you always visited. 

“Actually, the reason why I was rushing was because Jimin holds an annual Christmas Eve party, and this time around he made it a ‘bring-a-date’ memo, and I kinda got too busy to remember.” Taehyung began scratching the back of his neck, a little shy considering he didn’t really listen to Jimin when he should’ve. 

“Ohh.” You nodded understandingly. “So you forgot to get a date?” 

“Yeah.” Taehyung confirmed, nodding with some disappointment in himself. “But say, you mentioned a favour, right?” Taehyung eyed you knowingly, hand never leaving his neck as he forced himself to get the question out. “Are you doing anything on Christmas Eve?” 

You were a little taken aback, thinking you knew exactly where he was going with this, and also thinking it was a damn Christmas miracle. You remembered your unfortunate situation for Christmas Eve; your parents having booked a cottage for themselves considering you’d be working that day, though gladly enough your boss decided it was the most wonderful time of the year, so why the fuck would he keep people hostage at work? 

It landed you with quite literally nothing to do on the joyous day, and excitement began to fill your chest already about your answer, though you composed yourself to appear normal. 

“No, actually. My parents are at a cottage together, so I was going to be home.” 

Taehyung could’ve been on cloud nine right about now, thanking God or whatever supreme being for answering his prayers. You’d literally checked off his every requirement perfectly, and now all that was left was...

“Would you like come to Jimin’s party as my date? I know it’s only in 2 days and it’s really sudden, but I’m kinda stuck right now and I promised Jimin I would come after finding someone, he’ll probably kick my ass if I don’t-” 

“I’d love to come.” You broke out into a grin at his adorable rambling, nearly giddy your assumption from before was exactly correct.

“Wait, seriously? You mean that?” Taehyung asked in wonderment. 

“Why would I lie to you, Taehyung?” You chuckled at the endearing way his face was lighting up, trying to ensure he couldn’t see the stars in your eyes as you looked at him.  

“Oh my God, you actually just.. saved my life.” Taehyung reveled, expression of utter gratitude. 

“Don’t mention it. It’s all I can do after making you sit through 10 minutes of me berating you for liking fruit on pizza. It’s still weird, by the way.” 

“Hey, don’t make me take your drink and ask you to jump for it.” Taehyung chastised, biting back a smile at the fact that you two still bickered like old times. 

“Fair point, so in two days, huh?” 

“Mhm. Can I get your number, actually? I’ll send you the details tonight.” Taehyung began digging for his phone in his pocket. 

“Oh, yeah of course.” You agreed as you went for yours. You both huddled a little closer to exchange the digits, trading phones and adding your names into each other’s contacts. It dawned a slight fuzzy feeling in your chest, getting a whiff of Taehyung’s masculine cologne and realizing in this proximity, just how incredibly ravishing Taehyung had in fact grown up, how much larger and broader he was in comparison to you. 

That he was a man now, not the quirky little dork you once knew, and that thought alone caused something to momentarily alight inside you. 

He was a man now. 

“Remember when we only had iPods and had to talk through our land lines?” Taehyung took a trip down memory lane and grounded you back to Earth, returning your phone to you. 

“Ah yes, when technology was just expanding and us 90′s kids were always caught in the weird middle.” You reminisced as he chuckled, recalling the older days. 

You were just finishing typing in your name for your contact, nearly clicking save until you decided to add the little bow emoji next to your name, handing Taehyung’s phone back to him. 

“A bow?” Taehyung inquired, finding it cute. 

“I deserve it, I’m your little Christmas present under your tree, aren’t I?” You flashed him a cute flower pose with a kittenish grin, the barista calling out Taehyung’s order just after. 

Taehyung could only smile widely, endeared you still had that same playful charm. “Yeah, you are.” He made for his drink and nabbed it, fixing his phone back into this pocket before addressing you. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you in 2 days, okay? It was seriously great meeting you again. Y/N.” 

“You too, I’ll see you then!” You chimed with a wave as Taehyung began stepping away, almost turning from him until he suddenly called out to you one last time, just about through the door.  

“Thank you again, Y/N, I owe you, my Christmas present!” He shouted his last words through a stupid smile, you returning the same one as a welcome before Taehyung exited the shop. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from breaking out into the goofiest grin then, cheeks hotter than you remembered. You were glad Taehyung was still the same charismatic, easily lovable person from high school, the same charm and adorable impishness about him. 

Only now, he was all grown up and matured, no longer the slightly awkward, though heartfelt kid who liked stealing your history notes. And you became a little afraid feeling the same flutter in your heart from 6 years ago, curious if it was just a momentary lapse upon seeing him again, or signaling the ignition of an old flame it took you years to forget. 

Taehyung : remember to bring your competitive side today ;)

You : omg, what did jimin plan? 

Taehyung : you’ll have to wait and see 

Taehyung : jimin’s a creative one, remember? 

You : how could i forget? i’m never forgiving him for making me spend 3 hours writing calligraphy for that anthro project 😭

Taehyung : man, the guys are gonna love seeing you again

Taehyung : be there in 5! 

You : gotchu! 

You hated that you smiled so stupidly at your screen, never having forgotten the fluttery feeling Taehyung always managed to manifest in your stomach.

You clicked your phone screen off and checked over your outfit for the umpteenth time, wanting to look good not only for Taehyung (though that was the primary reason) but also for the rest of the crew. It’d seriously been too long since you last saw each other, having always been up to dumb shenanigans in high school though sadly parting ways after graduation. 

It was only inevitable with everyone’s future plans being so dissimilar, you having gone down the road of law and miraculously scoring a scholarship to a prestigious university a few towns over, spelling your departure from your beloved childhood city and therefore, goodbye to everyone you knew. 

You were glad the boys managed to remain so closely-knitted despite their different paths; Taehyung having clearly acquired a job at a museum considering his love for art. Last time you remembered, Jimin was an aspiring dancer, Hoseok was a natural at hospitality, Seokjin always rambled on about acting, Jungkook was gifted with a camera, Namjoon adored books and Yoongi wouldn’t trade music for the world. 

It was bittersweet recalling such memories, having to leave behind everything you knew to pursue your own dream. Bitter, though sweet knowing you had larger than life opportunities awaiting you. It was precisely what landed you your current job, working comfortably at a high-status law firm albeit stealing very much of your time. 

It was perfect, nonetheless, since the main office was located back home and you had just been transferred 3 months ago, finding your way back 6 years later. You didn’t know if the boys were still in town, had no real clue where their lives went with only stray social media posts indicating they were still alive and healthy. 

So running into Taehyung all of a sudden? It made you more than glad, remembering not only your fun times together as a group, but your comfortable friendship with him, and the undeniable feelings you’d developed overtime. 

Suffice to say, you both were quirky yet cute, and you made perfect sense. Not only did it land you two a supportive relationship full of laughs and teasing, but also numerous instances where someone’s actions or behaviour became suggestive, questioned the borders of actual friendship between you though nobody willing to take the leap, and it left all your friends inquiring exactly when you two would start dating. 

Though that was the sad part, you never did. And the reason why? You have no real clue. It simply never dawned on you to express your feelings towards Taehyung in fear of him not feeling the same, thinking your crush was just a phase and you’d eventually view him as a friend again, a process of denial you repeated for the 4 grueling years of high school.

Though the second you realized you’d have to say goodbye so soon, with the possibility you’d never see him again, you realized Taehyung was the one boy you truly loved, and sometimes questioned if you still did. 

It hurt to have to hug him one last time before you disconnected, remembering the way you cried having to part from everyone, and Taehyung held you against him until your eyes dried, waving an innocent goodbye before you rounded the corner of your street and disappeared forever. 

To this day you haven’t got a clue if Taehyung ever felt the same, always chalking up his little lingering touches, hugs and double entendres to his naturally flirtatious and outgoing nature. It hindered your ability to say anything, thinking over the years maybe your non-confessional departure was an enormous mistake. 

So when you heard the doorbell of your apartment ring, in the five minutes Taehyung promised, your heart couldn't help but leap at the thought you’d see him again, meet all your old friends and spend an entire festive, fun-filled night with them. 

You made for the door without a second thought and pulled it ajar, meeting Taehyung’s somehow more stunning self all ready to go. He’d decided today to dress with a tan plaid coat, black turtle neck poking out from underneath paired with black slacks to match; and you realized Taehyung definitely invented the all-black look. 

Sources? You. 

You almost gawked, his hair set to reveal some forehead though curl just before his eyebrows, and it was evilly handsome. He was evilly handsome. 

You remembered he was standing right in front of you, thinking a good moment has passed since you uttered anything, a warm smile as you addressed him. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” He greeted back, scanning over you, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered for a second on your legs. You’d gone for your same gray coat, though surprisingly with an all black outfit underneath as well, cute wrap around dress with a v line dipping just generously enough, all paired with pantyhose. 

Who cares about a little cold when you want to look cute anyway, right? 

“We’re matching, it’s cute.” He complimented, his smile just a little impish as it met your chest momentarily though flashed back up to you. 

“I guess you’re cute too.” You shrugged, nearly hiding your face under his scrutiny. 

“We should get going, m’lady. Jimin’ll chew my head off if I’m late too.” Taehyung feigned a sophisticated tone, turning aside and holding out his arm for you to loop like a gentleman. 

You chuckled just a little and clutched your side bag, hooking onto his arm as you switched the lights of your apartment off and shut the door behind you. 

“Now would the kind sir tell me what we’re doing today?” You inquired as Taehyung began walking you down the hallway, peering at his God-like side profile. “You’ve been so mysterious about it.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now what’s the point of a surprise if I tell you?” 

“But why is it a surprise? Don’t tell me it’s something ridiculous like rock climbing.” You playfully scolded, trying to keep up with his long strides as he led you towards the elevator. 

“Maybe it’s just to see the way your face will light up when you find out.” Taehyung suggested with narrowed eyes as he looked down at you, you staring back at him in scrutiny until you both snickered. 

And as you entered the elevator arm in arm with him, maybe you felt that same skip of your heartbeat from years ago. 

“Holy shit, Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?” Jimin’s face was utterly surprised, his warm, puppy eyes you remember too well wide as he held the door open.

“Of course it is, Park Jimin!” You cheered as you held your arms out for a hug, his gentle arm wrapping around your torso as he beamed.

“The guys are not gonna believe this, I gotta tell em’. Come in, come in!” Jimin ushered you and Taehyung inside, redirecting his attention to the beautiful, open space condo he called his humble abode. “Guys! Come to the front, look who’s here!”

You and Taehyung were propping your boots off when people eventually came piling into the front foyer and responding to Jimin absentmindedly. All were similarly unsuspecting their eyes widened when landing on you, sounding the next slew of hilarious commentary you’d missed too damn much. 

“No way, is that Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Y/N?”

“Y/N, we thought you left town, when did you come back?”

“Taehyung, how the hell did you find her?”

“Even better, how the fuck did he get her to come as his date?” It was Jungkook who made the quip that elicited everyone’s snickering, yourself simply overwhelmed by the amount of memories that came back just by the sound of their quite manlier now, though familiar voices.

They all still had the same charming features, each of them reminiscent of their teenaged selves, but the difference? Now they were polished into captivatingly good-looking men you were baffled to even know at this point. 

“Oh my God, it’s been 6 years, just let me hug you guys!” You excitedly gestured for them to come to you, friendly smiles all around as you embraced and reunited. 

“Jungkook, why wouldn’t she agree? You trying to say something?” Taehyung didn’t let the earlier insult go, eyebrows quirked as he retorted.

“Dude, Y/N has always been out of your league.” Yoongi added.

“And honestly, now she’s even more out of your league.” Seokjin joined the teasing and it erupted another bout of cackling from the group, you only left to shyly scrunch your nose and giggle.

“Okay, okay, let’s move from standing here, yeah? There’s a party and 6 years worth of catching up to do!” Jimin chimed, chastising everyone huddled by the corridor and allowing you and Taehyung to settle into the home.

Jimin was still the meticulous perfectionist you knew back then, his home adorably charmed with Christmas decorations that made his place feel incredibly warm. His pretty Christmas tree in the corner with some gifts wrapped underneath, his fireplace adorned with pretty stockings, even the small trinkets scattered around were reminding your sadly adult-self that it was indeed Christmas, and it’s meant to be jolly. 

It automatically created an atmosphere of festivity, and catching sight of the dates each friend brought moving about, it only felt more like the holidays with 14 people occupying the home. 

You were marveling with a wide smile at the scene before you, everyone moving back into the house to resume what they were previously doing until you suddenly felt someone’s hands hook onto the neck collar of your jacket from behind. You whirled around in an instant with seeking eyes, viewing the culprit was none other than the only owner of the largest, most slender hands you still found incredibly attractive.

Goddamn you.

“Sorry, I’ll just take your jacket for you.” Taehyung realized he may have startled you. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed, hurriedly shredding off the layer not having noticed you were still wearing it. “I could put it away myself though, give me yours.”

You reached for Taehyung’s jacket in his hands, though he immediately jut the jacket further away from you in protest. “No, no. You’re my date, I’m taking it.”

“But Tae-”

“Hey, you’re my present, remember? You deserve it.” Taehyung mimicked you from your exchange at the coffee shop, you ultimately acquiescing as a result.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully, though a laugh was pulling at you all the same. “What would you be, though?” You asked out of curiosity. “If I’m the present, what are you?” 

Taehyung toyed with your question in his thoughts until he chose the perfect answer, lips growing into a smirk as he drew closer to your face a little. “The one who gets to open it up.”

Something shot through you that was alarming, his cocked eyebrow indicative he was being suggestive, and you played it off with a scoff. “It’s not even Christmas morning yet, and I know you’re just the goodest little boy on Earth who’d wait until he can open his presents.” You clasped your hands together, condescendingly feigning innocence. 

“Or maybe you just never got to know, Y/N.” Taehyung then suddenly leaned down much closer to your face, inches from you as he looked into your eyes. “I haven’t always been a good boy.” 

Taehyung was boring something undistinguishable into you, though the double meaning of his words left apparent heat in the air between you. 

And here it fucking was again, those same double entendres Taehyung had always shot your way though you always took it as him simply fooling around, so you always joined in with your own jokes, assuming the same approach now.  

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Good boy. Santa’s watching.” You countered as you patted his chest sarcastically, causing Taehyung to stand to his full height biting his lip. 

He stared at you for a moment before walking away, noticing how long his legs were and the unfair curve of his ass, and you suddenly gained a new feature of his to ogle at. He eventually disappeared and you breathed, temporarily forgetting you had a dumb habit of holding your breath whenever he was so close; his piney with a hint of ocean breeze cologne having been left behind, and hitting you like a truck just as much as his all black outfit did. 

God fucking dammit. 

You decided to ignore your intrusive thoughts and waltz into the party instead, grabbing yourself a drink and eventually making your way towards some of the boys’ pretty dates. It was refreshing to feel the presence of women, thanking the Heavens they were all relatively sweet and amicable. 

Conversation always came easy to you, what with being a lawyer who has to be a master with words anyway, so it wasn’t difficult to not only befriend some of the girls, but also reconnect with the boys merrily, Taehyung by your side. 

“Y/N, how dare you not contact any of us about coming back?” Hoseok asked, a little upset timbre in his tone. 

“Yeah, I’m actually a little hurt you ended up coming with Tae of all people. After all the books I shared with you?” Namjoon feigned disappointment, a hand to his heart in near heartbreak. 

“Dude, what’s wrong with her coming with me? Not my fault you gave her boring ass books.” Taehyung defended.

“Tae, you’d steal her history notes for fuck’s sake.” Namjoon countered with narrowed eyes. 

“Guys, it’s been years. I just thought it’d been too long, so I didn’t say anything.” You stopped them, sadly remembering the way communication dwindled out the more you all progressed in your life. 

“Look, you’re always welcomed, Y/N. You think I’d forget the girl who pulled an all-nighter just to edit my shitty final essay for English? I told you I’d write your name on my damn tombstone when I got an 80.” Seokjin laughed with a glass of eggnog, though supportive in his remark and it made you reminisce. 

“I have no clue to this day how you passed English on just Sparknotes. Jungkook hated English more than you and he still managed to actually read 1984.” You chastised him like old times, though now it was a memory that brought a smile to your face. 

“Look, I wasn’t interested in knowing the asshole motives of Big Brother and the 3-minute hate speech.” Seokjin defended himself. 

“2-minute, and it was still a good book.” 

“You’re telling me 60 pages of that dumb manifesto Winston found was good?” Taehyung perked up with crossed arms, quirking his eyebrows at you in incredulousness.  

“Oh c’mon, you learn the entire history of the Party and all their bullshit.” 

“And you’re still a nerd, I see.” Taehyung ticked his head to the side with his snarky remark. 

“Oh shut up, I got a better mark than you on the final essay anyway.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a nerd.” Taehyung countered. 

You gave a disapproving, scrutinizing look as you marched your way over to Jimin’s Christmas tree, comically gesturing to the Balsam Fir beside you. “I’m literally your Christmas present under the tree, Taehyung, you have to be nice to me.” You chastised him though it only made the boys looking on crack up. 

“Y/N, you’re still hilarious as fuck.” Hoseok was lighting up with laughter, his pretty giggles sounding in a way that honestly made you giggle in the end too, Taehyung only letting up because you were just so you, and it tugged at his heart strings.

“Speaking of Jungkook from earlier, where is he? I just remembered the math notes he owes me his life for.” You perked up, gauging his presence around in the condo. 

“He’s over there eating the chocolate chips, yah, Jungkook! Stop it!” Seokjin scolded from across the room where Jimin and Yoongi were bustling about in the kitchen, and you became confused hearing the mention of chocolate chips. 

“Chocolate chips? I mean, I’m not complaining, but that’s quite the eccentric choice for party food.” You held up your hands in mock surrender. 

“Oh, Taehyung didn’t tell you? It’s for the competition later.” Namjoon informed, though you only furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Competition?” 

“Yeah, baking competition. Jimin planned a couple’s one for his mistletoe theme. I’m beating all your asses, by the way. I’m a genius at decorating.” Hoseok folded his arms with a self-satisfied expression. 

“Please, my girlfriend and I hold weekly bake-offs, watch yourselves, losers.” Seokjin calmed everyone down with his own greatness, you simply becoming beyond excited. 

You turned to Taehyung in an instant, expression completely telling of wonder as you inquired with a high-pitched tone. “Tae, you didn’t tell me we were having a baking competition, that’s so cool!” You beamed, elatedly looking towards Jimin and Yoongi preparing ingredients.  

“Taehyung’s a cryptic one, remember?” Namjoon joked, trying to stifle a laugh with a hand over his mouth, and Taehyung immediately defended himself.

“Shut up, hyung.” He sounded offended, though the smile tugging at his lips indicated after years of friendship, he’d never actually grow vexed at his admirable friend. 

Taehyung then met your eyes, smile growing more apparent, warmer. “I told you it was to see the way your face would light up, didn’t I?” He tilted his head to the side then, eyes playfully studying you as he confirmed his observation. “Yup, your eyes totally still sparkle the same.” 

You couldn’t help but fill with another wave of fuzziness, feeling as though Taehyung always knew how to make your insides all giddy, and maybe even thinking what’s so wrong if your feelings really were coming back? 

You could only smile sheepishly at him, the rest of the boys knowingly watching the two of you like they have for years, everyone only falling out of the trance of the moment when Jimin’s voice called out from the kitchen.  

“Alright Martha Stewarts, who’s starting the ass-kicking?” 

“Hyung! That’s not fair, you can’t steal from us!” Jungkook scolded him as you watched the mania in front of you, Seokjin and his girlfriend Sa-Ha vs. Jungkook and his date Mira. It was becoming devastatingly hilarious, both teams only having 1 minute left until their cookies had to be plated in tip-top shape, all scrambling to create the best-looking ones. 

“I can and I will, you stole from us first!” Seokjin rebutted him, Jimin raising his voice to signal how much left time was. 

“30 seconds you guys, make it count!” And it was another catastrophic seconds until the timer went off, both teams exhausted and complaining all the same about their hard time fueled by Jin and Jungkook’s endless bickering. 

It was laughs for the few of you looking on, waiting your turns until Jimin’s date Song-i chose from the hat of pairings, your eyes going wide once she called out your name with Taehyung’s against Hoseok and his date. 

“Oh my God, Tae, that’s us!” You grabbed his arm alarmed, seeming nervous and it caused him to look at you. 

“Why are you so nervous? We’ll do great.” 

You scoffed at him in protest. “Taehyung, you did horrible in home ec, we’re gonna lose!” 

“Hey, I’ll make you jump for the ingredients, have some faith, will you?” Taehyung retorted, grabbing you by your hand and dragging you over to one of the two counters Jimin’s grand condo had to offer. 

“We’re taking you guys down on decorations, I’m a genius.” Hoseok gloated from his counter, tying his apron as he eyed you. 

“I have a curator on my team, Hobi, we’re beating you.” You scrutinized him with an angry pout as he stuck his tongue out, you whirling back around to adjust your apron. 

“Okay everyone, aprons on?” Jimin inquired, you having put on yours though watching Taehyung struggle with figuring out the apparently rocket-science contraption. 

You sighed with a laugh until you grabbed it from his hands, helping him out. “It’s like this, Tae.” You got on your tippy-toes to situate the apron around his neck as he bent down for you, the contrast of your heights always having made Taehyung a little weak. 

He was only left to watch you as you fixed the apron onto him, finding himself not even watching anymore, but straight up gazing, admiring. 

Admiring the way your eyes were always in a state of perpetual sparkle, your small lips he never forgot the amount of times he contemplated kissing, your dress revealing your collarbones and chest that beckoned for him to just tear it off, all weakening him even more so.

What made him even weaker, however, was noting the way you’ve matured into a woman after 6 years. 

A very beautiful, attractive woman. 

Your body had always been art to him, but now you were polished into a masterpiece he desired to adore, run his hands all over. Your face structure was more evened out, hair set to fall elegantly upon your shoulders and neck so utterly inviting it all added a sense of sexy maturity to you. 

It was distracting, Taehyung venturing off on the thought you were a woman now, not the innocent, sweet nerd he once knew, and it constantly began to rack his brain when he felt something course through his veins about it. 

Because you used to be so painfully innocent, so naturally a girl next door he couldn’t help but want to taint sometimes, to ruin and unravel for his own. He could even feel it with every time your smaller hands touched his body as you worked the apron guilelessly, wanting to snatch up your wrists instead and do unspeakable things, especially with that fucking dress on his mind. 

What made it all worse is that Taehyung could tell you only acted guileless, and never actually were. You also made your own suggestive comments, always caught his drift and he could tell you weren’t the innocent little thing you appeared to be. 

 Taehyung was so completely lost he heard you suddenly calling his name. 

“Taehyung, are you listening?” 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

“You have to listen to what I say, okay? Just follow my instructions and we’ll win against them.” You made little fists in the air to encourage him, Taehyung mimicking the action. 

“Y-yeah. I will, let’s do this.” You turned around after smiling sweetly, fixing some of the utensils on the counter and completely unsuspecting of Taehyung’s thoughts. 

That even after 6 years apart, after thinking he’d successfully forgotten about you, there was still something that pulled at his heart every time he saw you smile, every time you were ever near him. 

And he came to the conclusion maybe his feelings really haven’t changed from 6 years ago. 

“Taehyung, can you pass me the butter, please?” You asked urgently, whisking away at your bowl of almost-there cookie dough with Taehyung hovering around you as he watched. 

“Got it.” He returned with some of the butter, you struggling to scoop some of it until Taehyung reached out for the block. “Here, let me do it and you whisk.” 

“No, you’ll end up putting in too much. Let me do it.” You nudged him with your elbow, picking at the butter. 

“But you’re already whisking, just let me take it out.” Taehyung protested as he reached, though you blocked him right away.  

“No, Tae, remember we decided I’m on baking and you’re on decorating?” 

“Your job is way harder than mine and I’m useless right now, let me at least whisk.” Taehyung grabbed for the bowl until you snatched it away from him, already done with scooping the butter when the action caused some of the flour to fly up on your dress, gasping scandalously. 

“Taehyung!” You whined, Taehyung scrambling for a quick apology. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Taehyung almost completed until a splash of flour went hurtling onto his shirt, causing him to look down with his mouth agape. “You did not just throw flour on my black turtleneck.” 

“You got flour on my black dress first, you tree.” Your eyebrows were set hard as you scolded him, still loosely whisking away at the cookie dough. 

“It was by accident, you half-pint.” Taehyung rebutted, trying to bat the flour off himself.

“Then mine was an accident too.” You mocked him, unsuspectingly whisking again when flour suddenly hit your chest, offended to find Taehyung snickering with it all over his hand. 

“That was an accident, too.” 

“You’re so...” You huffed out as you placed the bowl down and grabbed your own handful of flour, just about to throw it on Taehyung when is large palms came up to snatch your wrists, forcing your arms back as he snickered. 

“Taehyung, this is unfair!” You complained, struggling against his hold. 

“It’s an accident.” Taehyung mimicked with a genuine laugh watching you scramble in his hold, until the smile wiped off his face shortly after when you simply released the flour from your palm and it spilled all over his turtleneck. 

Your cheeks puffed up trying to contain your laughter, Jimin’s own giggling fit sounding and you remembered he was monitoring the competition. “Taehyung, you dumbass, you had that shit coming.” He held his stomach, entire body laughing at his best friend. 

You were giggling along with Jimin until Taehyung had had enough, licking his lips with mischief. 

“That’s it, come here.” He then spun you around and engulfed you with his arms from behind, holding you snug to his chest as you tried to escape him alarmingly, knowing what Taehyung was going to do next. 

“Taehyung please, wait, I beg of you, don’t!” And it was already too late when you felt his long fingers begin to tickle at your sides, your incessant protests melding with giggles along with his beautiful laughter filling the kitchen. 

You continued to fight against his hold, the constant feather-like touches making you reel and breath leave your lungs. “Taehyung, stop! Oh my God,” you struggled through a laugh while he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I’ll die, Taehyung, please!” 

“Nope, this is what you get.” Taehyung continued his onslaught as he held you tighter, you beginning to acquiesce in order to reason with him.  

“Okay, okay, look. We’re running out of time!” You tried controlling your laughter, tears pricking at your eyes as you tried to calm down. “We have to beat Hobi and Ah-yeong or else we’ll lose!” 

His amused voice sounded near your ear, still reprimanding you. “I’ll only stop if you say sorry.” 

“Alright, I’m sorry!” You were grabbing at his wrists for release. “I didn’t mean it, just stop tickling me!” You protested with a giggle until you felt his fingers rest, rather exchanging it for simply encasing you. 

“Good girl, you’re getting on Santa’s nice list.” Taehyung joked. 

You could only sigh as you resupplied oxygen to your lungs, moving towards the bowl. “Okay, let’s get back to work before we lose.” You puffed out air, breaths levelling as you returned to the counter and grabbed the whisk and bowl, only to find Taehyung hadn’t retracted his arms yet. 

He instead remained behind you, reaching for the utensils in your hands, his large ones grasping them along with you and the contrast of his broad body enclosing your smaller one made you feel something in your core.

Your eyes widened in surprised when his head unexpectedly found your shoulder, resting his chin there as he peered down at the bowl before you, you sputtering. “Taehyung, w-what are you doing?”

“Helping you, is there a problem?” The deep cadence of his voice was just by your ear, dangerous for your health. 

“N-no. But it’s okay, I’m fine on my own-” 

“Nope, this is the least I can do for you..” Taehyung’s tone seemed to trail off suddenly, having calmed down from his laughter and you found him speaking in earnest. “You’re my Christmas present I dragged all the way here with me, remember?” 

You could only smile sympathetically as you looked to your side, eyes welcomed by his gorgeous side profile on full display just centimeters from you. It made you realize just how close he was, his warmth engulfing you and it caused little sparks to fly inside your chest.  

“It’s not so bad, Taehyung. You’re just a good boy who needed his little Christmas present.” You teased light-heartedly, proud of your remark until Taehyung suddenly turned towards your ear, ghosting the shell of it with an unexpectedly darker tone, low and down right gruff.

“I’m not always a good boy.” He stated it simply, though the hot baritone in his words oddly left your spine cold, freezing over even more when Taehyung then wrapped his arms entirely around your torso, pulling your back to his chest. He did it so tightly you could suddenly feel your ass pressed to his covered length, oddly contradicting how couple-like you two probably appeared and it was goddamn intoxicating. 

You panicked at first but eventually basked in his hold, mustering the courage to speak with a suggestive tone. “I’m not always a good girl, either.” 

You threw it out there, cheeks slightly heating adding your own double entendre, though the way Taehyung suddenly tensed for a second had you feeling more confident, the puff of air he sucked in apparent. 

The conversation only ended with a satisfied hum from Taehyung as he watched you bake, a nice rumble that reverberated from his chest and into your back, feeling an odd arousal spike all the way down to your toes. 

It was already lethal with his pretty hands holding around your waist, the closeness an added thrill. It made your chest fill with something riveting, almost anticipatory of what all of this meant between you two, excited for wherever this night would truly go. 

It wasn’t long before it came time for Taehyung to plate and decorate the cookies, carefully placing his little embellishments he swore were the cream of the crop as you bickered with him, your incessant teasing resulting in you hugging him from behind while he worked. 

And Taehyung knew he was doomed the second he felt your very obvious chest press into his back, his nerves pumping carnally as he then felt a side of him he’s always hid from you escape its reigns. 

It was damn transparent Seokjin and his girlfriend would win, their exquisite baking and cooking skills having created masterpieces everyone dug into happily. It’d won them the choice of what movie everyone would watch tonight along with a dinner that the losers, surprisingly not you and Taehyung, but Namjoon and his date would have to pay for. 

Everyone was now seeking comfortable positions for the movie around the TV while you were last minute cleaning with Jimin in the kitchen, offering your help after the mess you and Taehyung made with your little flour mishap. 

Taehyung had properly gotten rid of the flour on his sweater, now lounging on an armchair in the living room with his phone in hand. You felt yourself glancing towards him more than you should’ve, reprimanding yourself each time though found yourself doing it nonetheless. 

It was just hard to keep your eyes off him when Taehyung was the epitome of a Greek God, questioning how such a being is allowed to walk among us commoners. His chiseled jawline was far too handsome for his own good, his neck sculpted so perfectly it left you you wondering what it would feel like to mark him up all over, and the way his long legs were manspreading before him was so inviting the sight alone made you figuratively drool. 

And fall even harder. 

You didn’t realize you were ogling until Jimin’s hushed voice pulled you out of your reverie. “You’re staring.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Jimin chuckled as he continued to wipe the counter one last time. “It’s been 6 years, why don’t you just say something?” 

“There’s nothing to say, Jimin.” You tried brushing him off, though Jimin didn’t buy it. 

“My ass, Y/N. You really think after what happened in the kitchen there’s nothing between you two?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just how Taehyung is.” You concocted an excuse, deflating as you did so.  

Jimin shook his head in disapproval. “It’s been like this since high school, Y/N, why didn’t you just tell Taehyung how you felt?” 

You looked at him in earnestly before softening into a sigh, knowing Jimin was really the only person you ever spilled your feelings for his best friend to. 

“Because I was scared, Jimin. You know how hard it was for me to even admit it to you.” You answered with a quiet voice, scrapping the flour you threw at Taehyung into the garbage. 

“But Y/N, you two... the way you are. What were you so afraid of?” Jimin’s sweet, pacifying voice asked, clearly having been rooting for you both ever since you fessed up. 

“Rejection, Mimi. Even if we’re like that...” You trailed, thinking over your relationship with Taehyung. “What if it’s all only a joke on his end? Taehyung has always been naturally flirty.. and we’re friends. I don’t think I’m any different than a conquest.” 

Jimin understood your point, though made it his own to advise you otherwise, washing out the cloth in the sink. “Y/N, that’s only what you believe.” His eyes told you of genuine support, offering like the comfort fairy he’s always been. “Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it true.” 

And that damn well hit home for you, realizing that maybe you’ve really been in your head too much about this, overthinking by creating doubts and excuses in your head to subdue your fear of confessing to Taehyung, to avoid the hurt of rejection but possibly missing an entire opportunity. 

“You should tell him, Y/N. It’s been long enough, you’ll never know how he feels if you don’t try.” 

You became apprehensive. “But how do you know if he’ll feel the same way?” Jimin could only chuckle to himself, his smile radiant as he found you the most innocent, yet funnily oblivious thing on Earth. 

“Look at the way he acts around you, Y/N.” Jimin advised. “He’s my best friend, and I’ve never seen him like that with anyone except you. Conquests are conquests, but you’re you, and that’s different to him.” 

Your mind instantly went into a frenzy, thinking well fuck, Jimin is Taehyung’s best friend, and he’s telling you that all this time Taehyung has never really enacted the same behaviour and energy with anyone expect you? This whole time? What does he mean you’re different? You’re.. different to him? Aren’t you just his female friend he’s known since ninth grade, and so surely there’s nothing but the added value of history there, right? 

Right?

You were only left to digest Jimin’s words as you placed the dustpan back to its original spot, Jimin finishing up with the sink. The conversation ended there, Jimin guiding you back to the living room and nestling himself next to his date. You were distracted with Jimin’s suggestions until you walked into the space and realized there was nowhere for you to sit, the couples perfectly paired up and occupying all the available space. 

Your entrance is what made Taehyung snap his vision to you from his phone, watching your confused face contemplating where to sit until he whispered to you, motioning towards himself on the armchair furthest from the screen and tucked behind the other couches. “Y/N, come here.” 

You studied his placement, on a singular armchair with his lap very much open. You shivered at the sight, though protested in a hushed tone realizing the chair could really only fit him. “There’s nowhere for me to sit.” 

Taehyung then spread his legs a little further apart and tapped his thigh, revealing some space for you to sit.. on him. “You can sit here.” 

You were glad the lights were turned off, just so Taehyung didn’t have to see the blush that rose to your cheeks when you answered. “Um, o-okay.” 

You then ambled over to him in front of the rather comfy looking armchair, thanking God everyone was too distracted bickering over Seokjin’s movie choice to pay attention to you both. 

“Are you.. sure about this?” You managed to get out, mind going feral over the fact that one of your previous thoughts was actually manifesting itself, nearly chickening out. 

“Mhm, just sit on me.” Taehyung offered casually, his expression unreadable and ultimately making you doubt Jimin’s advice from before, realizing that Taehyung has always been a hard person to read, which is why you could never tell how he felt about you, shutting your trap about damn love confessions. 

You didn’t respond and rather tentatively made it to the take your seat, the seat that was Taehyung’s fucking lap. You placed your ass on his thigh with your legs thrown over him, angling yourself so that the temple of your head rested against his shoulder. 

Though it proved to be lethal in seconds, his cologne now completely flooding your nostrils and the thin skirt of your dress leaving much of your clothed core feeling the muscle of his thigh. 

You felt Taehyung tense underneath for a second as you adjusted the skirt of your dress over your own thighs, smoothing it over properly as your hands then clasped in your own lap. 

Taehyung was glad you didn’t have the ability to read his mind, because the second he realized everyone was naturally pairing up to cuddle with their dates, it would only mean you two would have to do the same. So when you paddled over, standing before him in that cute dress he’s been wanting to tear off you this entire party, he was more than thrilled to offer his lap as your seat. 

But when you actually sat on him, your ass and hints of your core against his thigh with your tempting legs draped over him, he was continuously beginning to think dangerously, salaciously. 

He tried to keep his breathing leveled, though the second he felt you adjust against him and your covered center press onto him, he knew he would never survive whatever fucking movie everyone eventually settled on. 

When it finally began to play, Taehyung snaked his arms around your waist and held you to him, feeling your breath hitch for the tiniest second before you relaxed. 

And it damn well thrilled him. 

The movie was beginning to progress now, Taehyung and yourself in the same comfortable position until you yawned and snuggled more into him, a hand coming up to drape across his chest and head finding shelter closer into his neck. 

Taehyung tensed again, feeling every breath you took with the weight of your smaller body on top of him, mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t keep quiet anymore. 

And especially when you shifted your ass a little against his leg, he twitched with something so much more carnal, blood pumping somewhere it shouldn’t and this time, Taehyung didn’t really feel like holding back anymore. 

His hands suddenly faltered, his palms coming to singularly rest against one of your thighs, clasping it slightly. He knew there was nothing but your leg with only pantyhose as a barrier for your skin, sending currents through his veins thinking you could definitely feel his every touch. 

You nearly jolted when Taehyung’s hands met the meat of your thigh, the placement shooting more arousal through you than it should’ve. 

You were calm until Taehyung suddenly inched his hand towards the inner part of your thigh, making your core clench and hand clutch his sweater to contain the electricity it sent. 

You’ve always had such dirty thoughts about what Taehyung’s hands could do, the slenderness and length of his fingers always revving your imagination. So to have his fingers just on the inside of your thigh, sitting in his lap as he seemed to be teasing, was enough to send your brain spiraling. 

Your scandalous thoughts made you shift against him to experimentally feel the friction, your core grinding against his thigh for a moment and Taehyung’s breath immediately hitched. His grip on you tightened and his hold tensed, had you suppressing the feeling of making a sound. 

He slid more inward, closer to the prize he was seeking and you could only hide your face into the junction of his neck at the way your pussy felt butterflies. It made you squish your thighs together to feel something, and God fuck, was the tension between you two so searing you could feel it radiating off Taehyung’s body. 

It’s what made whispering slowly against him flow easily, quiet so as not to alarm anyone in the living room. 

“I thought you were a good boy, Tae. What are you doing?” Your voice was sultrier than you planned, and it wasn’t chastising him at all, rather teasing for something more. 

You could only feel the rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest underneath you as he contained himself, the cuddling leaving you to feel his every micro-movement when he responded. 

“I thought you were a good girl, what are you doing?” Taehyung’s voice was low and deep, the vibration coursing through your body and it only invited you to become hornier. 

“Guess I’m not a good girl after all.” 

Taehyung made a sound as though scoffing, dangerous in its tone. 

“Guess I’m not a good boy, either.” And just after, Taehyung inched his fingers even closer to your clothed core, making the slightest of contact on your slit through the material of your dress and you practically twitched in his hold, sucking in a breath as you clasped onto the fabric of his shirt. 

“You have no idea..” Taehyung suddenly spoke up, voice laden with something hungry, hot. “what I’ve always thought about doing to you.” 

You could only jolt in his lap, more of his cologne meeting your nose and it caused you to suppress a sound by stuffing your face into his neck. “What.. have you thought about?” 

Taehyung then suddenly cupped your sex over your clothes, making you grapple onto his neck and bite back a moan so hard you had to breathe through your nose. 

“How I want to ruin you.” Taehyung’s low baritone and rough palm rubbing teasingly against your now aching pussy left you gushing, arousal racking the bottom of your stomach you were almost afraid of how easy it was for him. 

Your breath was shallower now, trying to compose yourself by egging him on. “You’d want to ruin an innocent girl like me?”

“I know you’re not innocent, princess.” Taehyung asserted with the slightest growl to his tone, thankful your seat was positioned behind the rest of the others so nobody could see what was going on. 

“Only when it comes to you.” Your seductive voice beckoned lust to course through Taehyung, breathing out hot air. “What else?” You suddenly croaked out. 

Taehyung hummed lowly into your ear, his palm smoothing over your cunt in ways that had you screwing your eyes shut. “How I want to make you beg.” He purposefully pressed harder against your clit, had you scratching into the column of his throat. “Make you scream my name.”   

You gushed your arousal even more, breathless with your words. “I bet you say that to everyone.”

Taehyung chuckled dismissively, dipping his head lower to whisper darkly into your ear. 

“I only say that to pretty little things I want to ruin, and you’re the prettiest little thing I know.” 

Your breath came out in a weighty puff, sighing satisfyingly against him as you snaked your hand from his neck down to the hardening length in his pants. You grazed your palm over his clothes and he twitched almost violently, biting back his hiss with a strong grip against your thigh with his free hand. You grew proud, speaking up when it boosted your ego. 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

And that was when the pads of Taehyung’s fingers pressed into your clothed cunt so euphorically you were seconds from letting out a moan, Taehyung cupping his palm over your mouth to silence you. 

“Shh.” Taehyung sounded by your ear. “Can’t let everyone hear my girl, now can I?” He hushed you huskily, leaving you to sigh your arousal into his large palm and eternally grateful the movie’s volume was loud enough to mask your talking.

Taehyung then began the slowest circular ministrations on your clit, shooting continuous pleasure through your body as you clutched your hand onto his wrist holding your mouth, urgently trying to suppress moans he was easily milking out of you. 

It felt like sparks, continuous sparks in your covered pussy as Taehyung rubbed against your folds, gliding down to your slit and teasing your throbbing hole. 

The mere prospect of his fingers shoving inside you made you wet beyond comprehension, only digging little crescents into his forearm with muted moans. It was sickening how easily he had you turned on, how easily you were getting riled up by just his fingers, and so you mustered the strength to lightly stroke his cock over his pants as revenge.

Taehyung then put pressure against your clenching hole as punishment, shoving your face into his neck when he teased your entrance and squishing his hand between your thighs with his other urging them open. 

“Look at you,” Taehyung growled. “all fucked out just by my fingers.” He whispered darkly into your ear, the vibration of his baritone voice once again sending you into overdrive. “They’re not even inside you yet.” 

The ‘yet’ had you restless, body grinding against him and this time it was Taehyung trying suppress a satisfied groan. 

“If my fingers have you like this, imagine my-” 

“Oh c’mon! That’s not even realistic!” Seokjin suddenly shouted at the screen, startling you and Taehyung. 

“Jin, calm down. It’s just a feel-good Christmas movie.” Yoongi cautioned him. 

“How the fuck does the kid just free the burglar from the cop car? It’s damn common sense.” Seokjin complained about the scene from Christmas with the Kranks, having been unsatisfied with the movie since the beginning. 

“Baby, why’d you choose this movie?” He whined to his girlfriend Sa-Ha, her feigning innocence as she defended herself. 

“It’s almost over, Jinnie. Just sitand watch.” 

And that’s when Taehyung ripped his hands off you, leaving you to breathe out ruggedly for a few seconds before your vision looked up at Taehyung’s, mutually shocked at what the fuck just happened.

You’ve never done something like that before, and as your scared sights looked back at each other, you could only think you were both under some sort of horney trance that swept you two into uncharted waters. 

It made you divert your eyes from Taehyung immediately, your mind going blank. 

Taehyung was left hard and extremely turned on, though began dissipating once he couldn’t fathom he went that far with you so quickly, his brain having been clouded by lust he should’ve kept in check.

And with the way you looked at him, panicked and snapping your vision away in an instant, he doesn’t know if he just made a grave mistake. 

You both became shameful, swallowing dryly as your attentions fixated back onto the screen, thinking about what just transpired. 

There was this incessant feeling in both your chests contemplating there was something more, clearly more between you two. 

And it was downright fearful. 

“Yah, why are you guys leaving so early? C’mon! There’s still half the eggnog left.” Seokjin pouted from across the room, sadly chugging his drink as the others hummed in agreeance. 

“Yeah, c’mon guys. It’s the holidays, let’s all spend it together, sleep over for the fuck of it!” Hoseok chimed in what you could tell was an inebriated state, practically swaying as he talked and the lilt in his tone ever-so cheery. 

“Um, excuse me? Sleep over? Nobody’s doing that.” Jimin shoot him down from where he stood near you and Taehyung, scolding his friends with crossed arms. “If they want to leave they’re allowed, we already made Y/N abandon her Christmas for us.” 

“It’s alright, Jimin. I missed you guys too, I wanted to come.” You offered sentimentally, hand touching his elbow to let him up and he eased. 

“Since you’re officially back in town, we’re never leaving you alone again, Y/N!” Namjoon called out from the living room, engrossed in whatever was playing on the TV. 

“Yup, seriously not going to leave you alone.” Yoongi hummed with half-lidded eyes, near falling asleep on the couch. 

“I still owe you for those math notes, expect me becoming your Genie for a day!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen, most likely munching on the treats everyone crafted during the competition earlier. 

“Of course, I’ll see you guys! Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas!” Everyone cheered, their dates similarly adding on. 

You then brought your attention back to Jimin, seeing you and Taehyung out as the wonderful host of today’s party. “Thank you for the party, Jimin, it was amazing.” 

“Yeah.” Taehyung perked up next to you, apologetic he was so negligent of the party in the first place. “It was seriously fun, Jimin, I’m sorry I acted like it wasn’t a big deal before.” 

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Jimin casually waved him off. “Dude, you could text me a Merry Christmas and I’d be alright, you know us.” Jimin smiled reassuringly, right on your toes when Taehyung and yourself stepped into his front foyer.  

You were both fixing on your shoes just before Jimin’s door when he spoke up again. “It was great having you guys, and even better having you, Y/N, come here.” Jimin held out his arms for a warm hug, you returning it merrily. “You’re always welcomed here with us, visit anytime you want.”

“Thanks, Jimin, it really means a lot.” Your grateful eyes found his once you disconnected. 

“We’ll get going now, thank you again, Jimin.” Taehyung for some odd reason placed an arm around your shoulder, pulling you two a little closer and you simply accepted the action, trying not to read into it. 

“Of course.” Jimin replied. “Though one last thing, you remember the theme of this party, right?” Jimin asked you both, you and Taehyung similarly responded with knitted eyebrows. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well look up, lovebirds.” Jimin cocked his head upwards towards the ceiling, casually leaning against the corridor of his entrance when you and Taehyung glanced up, innocently viewing the little mistletoe dangling above your heads, eyes reflecting the realization of what Jimin was conveying. 

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Jimin added with a purposefully hushed, knowing tone. He was just about turning away until he called out in caution. “Oh, careful driving, by the way. I just heard the snow got bad.” And with that, Jimin left nothing but his sweet cologne in the air when he disappeared.

You and Taehyung shuffled about a little, not exactly daring to exchange gazes when the air became all stuffy. 

You were both mutually pondering what the absolute hell to do in this moment. Do you kiss? Do you not kiss? Do you awkwardly try to address what happened earlier after silently agreeing with your dicey body language to never speak of it again? Or hell, do you damn well take Jimin’s advice and just flat out tell him you’ve always had feelings for him? 

Wait. 

Jimin’s advice. 

It came back to you, thinking Jimin was actually extremely wise in what he said. You took to his words into consideration, studying some of the little things Taehyung did around you, from the things he uttered all the way down to the simple way he even looked at you, contemplating something, just something had to be there.

But then maybe, just maybe you could also chalk it up to his naturally flirtatious behaviour you’ve always observed, always habitually affectionate with people and that’s what’s always made him so easily lovable in the first place, what made Taehyung a boy who was born to be loved. 

And he was tricky, his expressions and feelings always indistinguishable with the composed, nuanced way he carried himself especially now, convincing you reading him was a lost cause. 

Though as you glanced at Taehyung right now, visibly nervous, his usually schooled face and unreadable expression now indicating nerves, awkwardness you two have never really experienced between each other before, you decided maybe you should stop making excuses. 

Stop avoiding signs and doubting his every move and burying your feelings so deep underground, that maybe you should just fucking take your leap of faith already. 

So you stepped closer to him, your figure almost laughably smaller compared to him, and watched as his pretty eyes brightened in surprise at you. 

It only took a few seconds, for your lips to curve reassuringly, for your soft hands to cup his face delicately against the edge of his sharp jaw. To get on the tip of your toes and bring your lips to Taehyung’s, pressing a heartfelt kiss to mouth. 

A kiss so very soft and tender, it was like teenagers kissing for the very first time, and it made you giggle on the inside, thinking that’s exactly how your entire ordeal has felt like; your two teenage selves trying to navigate whatever feelings lied between you. 

Taehyung was shocked, having been silently berating himself for being too bold too quickly and thinking his abandonment of chivalry in that instance was wrong, the air between you having been tainted with a sense of unspoken, though apparent awkwardness for the rest of the party. 

But now, now you were kissing him, and for the first time, his insides leaping at just the prospect. It felt like a damn dream, though the press of your mouth against his confirmed it was in fact real, that it was gladly his sweet reality. 

That after years of imagining what it would feel like, he’s kissing the girl he’s loved since the second he saw her hair glow in the rays of the sunset, the minute he realized she wasn’t just pretty, but beautiful to him, the hour he’d witness the moonlight kiss her skin when she stayed up with him on sleepless nights, leading all the way up to the year he realized she’d leave him, so soon, so fucking soon it absolutely crushed him. 

And Taehyung wouldn’t admit it you, but your departure left his heart ravaged for quite possibly years, continuously overthinking how different things would’ve been if he just told you. Told you how he felt, told you that behind every innuendo, behind every hug, every tease, every stupid smile he flashed your way, that there was love behind it all. 

Pure, unadulterated love. 

He regretted it for months, for years thinking he’d truly lost the greatest opportunity in his life having let you go without protest, without fighting for you like he should’ve. 

It hurt, it hurt until he’d eventually grown accustomed to the ache in his heart whenever he saw that same plaid pattern on anyone else, reminded of the jacket you wore to school everyday. The way he found himself subconsciously comparing nearly every girl he dated to you, how on rainy days and quiet nights, he sometimes wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were awake at this time of night like he usually was, remembering the way the moonlight always seemed to love you, just like he loved you. 

And he still did, Taehyung thought. He still loved you, now feeling your lips kiss him, your adorable height making you tippy-toe, the gentle way you held his face comforting. 

Your lips then disconnected, Taehyung seeing your gaze was warm, something so reminiscent of affection, adoration in your eyes, and he thought in that one, singular moment that maybe, just maybe... 

You loved him too. 

“Fuck, this snow is bad.” Taehyung swore as he gauged any clear path of the road ahead.

“I hate to admit this, but the group was right. It was probably better staying at Jimin’s.” You sighed, worried about the amount of damn white you were seeing blanket the world outside. 

“I thought if we left early we could escape it, but shit, mother nature is always so fickle.” He complained. 

“It’s her charm, unfortunately.” You shrugged, realizing there was truly no way for you to get home now. “It’s early too, the snow ploughs won’t clear the roads just yet.” There was suddenly a concerned lilt to your tone as you peered ahead, gripping Taehyung’s arm and it grabbed his attention. “It’s getting dangerous too, Tae. I don’t want you driving in this.” 

Taehyung was glad he had the gifted ability of hiding his emotions, because right now he would’ve been embarrassingly over the moon. He smiled back to you reassuringly, then contemplated an alternative.

“Would you.. rather come to my place?” Taehyung inquired, biting his lip once he realized he stupidly stuttered. 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Well, my place is much closer, and it’d be less dangerous driving there. You can just stay until they clear the roads.” Taehyung relayed casually, expectant eyes on you as his hands tapped against the steering wheel. 

Your face slowly turned into an appreciative smile, taken aback by his act of kindness, but also felt something exciting tickle the bottom of your stomach. 

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

Taehyung shut the door of his apartment as you removed your boots, shredding stray snowflakes off his jacket when he spotted similar ones on yours, his hands naturally jutting out to rid the tiny icicles off you. 

You turned around at his touch, thanking him and he smiled a welcome back. He’d taken your jacket just like before and tucked them away into his closet, gesturing towards his living room for you to get comfortable. 

“Make yourself at home, do you want water or anything?” 

“Yeah, actually. Water would be nice.” Taehyung nodded as he made for his kitchen, you tucking the skirt of your dress underneath you as you took your humble seat on his couch. 

His home was so painfully Taehyung, it had you smiling like an idiot he was still the same. The same introspective Taehyung who adored art and photography, the same Taehyung who absolutely hated shoes and you could tell just by the way he abandoned them earlier he still had the same habit. Even to the way his house reflected this artistic, calming, and nuanced feeling he similarly had.

It drew you to admire some of the pieces draping his walls, when Taehyung returned with a glass of water, handing it to you as he plopped down on the couch. “Here.” 

“Thank you.” You took the glass, gulping down some of the liquid for your parched throat. 

“Your apartment is nice.” 

“Thanks.”

You then both sat in silence for a short while, tapping the edge of the glass in your hand as you scanned the rest of his charming home. The silence wasn’t awkward considering the past events of today, just a silence in its definition. 

“I still can’t believe I ran into you at a coffee shop.” Taehyung suddenly remarked, looking off at his table in front with a smile tugging his lips. 

You chuckled. “Why? Too meet-cute for you?” 

“No.” He chuckled too. “It’s just, I really thought it was the end when you left after graduation.” Taehyung paused for a poignant moment, air heavy with something as you watched him muster the courage to say something else. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” 

He claimed it with such a sense of sadness, sense of longing that reminded you of how upset you also were that day, the rampant emotions that came crashing down realizing you were leaving behind an entire life. 

“Me too.” You added with a similarly downcast tone. “I thought I’d never see you again, either.” 

Taehyung then looked at you, eyes meeting your gaze. “I’m glad that wasn’t true.” Something lingered behind his words, something incredibly thick and telling, though you deflected it with a joke to lighten the air. 

“I’m glad you didn’t delete my PowerPoints, either.” You snickered, hand coming up to cover your mouth, “I used to put a lot of work into them.”

Taehyung scoffed playfully, smiling through a chuckle as he responded. “I didn’t have the heart to. You were so passionate about your hatred for fruit on pizza.” 

“I still am.” You added. “Do you really have them?” 

“Yeah, I do. Let me show you.” Taehyung then pulled out his phone from his pocket, clicking away on the device as he scooted closer to you and leaned in, you similarly doing so and peering at a Google Drive folder of your wonderfully crafted presentations.

“Oh my God, I thought you were joking.” You snorted, snickering at the hilarious folder name; ‘Y/N says Fuck Hawaiian Pizza: the Saga’

“Nope, couldn’t delete them even if I was dared to.” Taehyung laughed with you, both of your eyes naturally falling as he shut off his phone, the conversation shifting. 

“You know, I never actually hated it that much.” You admitted sheepishly. “I just liked annoying you and wasting 5 minutes of your day with every presentation.” 

Taehyung looked scandalized at first, mouth falling agape until he ultimately let it go, admitting something of his own. “You know, I never actually needed your history notes. I just liked being annoying about stealing them so you always had to chase me down.” Taehyung’s smile was suddenly impish, shy as he fixated on fiddling with his slender fingers. 

“After all that running I always did after you too? Jheez, you’re the reason I have strong calves now.” 

“And you’re the reason I’m really good at presentations now.” You both chuckled together, the old days coming back in bouts until your mood changed, remembering Jimin’s advice from earlier. 

As you looked at Taehyung, while he didn’t look at you, you could only help but find every reason in the world to listen to Jimin. Because Taehyung was Taehyung, he was the Taehyung that stole your heart with his boxy grin, the Taehyung who made every other man seem like an unappealing idiot you wanted nothing to do with, the same Taehyung who’s heart was made of love, and you wanted nothing but to return to him the love he gifted the world.

Because you loved Taehyung, no matter how much you’ll try to deny it, you still love him. All his smiles and giggles and soft hair and his sometimes coltish, though endearing ways of being himself. All his hard expressions and intimidating eyes and handsome looks and the way he holds a universe of stars in his old soul.  

So your next words flowed, flowed more fluently than anything ever has in your life. 

“You know,” You paused, eyes faltering to the glass in your hand. “I think, for the majority of high school... I had a crush on you, but I never said anything because I thought you wouldn’t want me.” 

And there came the silence, the piercing, God awful silence you were so afraid of and so sure was spelling your doom. You didn’t dare look up from your glass now, downright terrified he was probably pulling the most confused face ever, and his silence was deafening. It had you contemplating the best way to jump out his window, he was only, what, 14 stories up? A human can survive a fall that high, right? 

“You wanna know something?” Taehyung suddenly broke the silence, his deep, dulcet voice sounding beautifully in his apartment, and your eyes widened the second he opened his mouth next. 

“I think I was in love with you for the majority of high school, but I didn’t say anything because I thought you never felt the same way.” And that’s when everything clicked, when your eyes widened in revelation, when it suddenly felt like the 6 years you spent battling your feelings for him was nothing but a sad joke. 

Because this moment, alone, made you realize you two had the same hearts all along. 

“You wanna know something?” You swallowed hard, eyes still on your glass as it shifted in your hand mindlessly. “I think... I’m still in love with you.” 

You couldn’t see Taehyung, because you didn’t dare look at him at a time like this. You just sat there, breathing as leveled as you could until you felt Taehyung shift on the couch. He’d moved closer, closing the small gap between you both, beckoning you to finally look at him and that’s exactly what you did. 

He spoke low, deep and low and it had your toes curling at just how proximal he was, his beautiful eyes gazing at you like you meant the universe and more to him. 

And little did you know, you really did. 

“I think..” He started, gripping the glass of water from your hands and placing it onto his coffee table. “I’m still in love with you, too.” 

And your heart was set ablaze in a matter of seconds, your tentative eyes finding Taehyung’s as he leaned in, large palms on either side of your body as he inched closer, closer, and closer, until all he could see were your lips, jutting his face forward until his lips just brushed yours. 

You chased his mouth a little, fluttering your eyes shut and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile before finally, finally pressing his lips to yours. 

His mouth kissed you slow at first, slow and steady and it was intoxicating just like this. He constantly chased your lips, mouthing at them sensually and it was driving you insane, just the taste of his lips with a hint of wine on his breath shooting electricity to your core. 

His hands moved to your sides, wrapping around your rib cage as he leaned you back onto the couch and laid on top of you. His body covered you as far as you could see, your dainty hands coming up to find his jawline and pull him against your lips fervently.

He slowly grew more passionate, smoothing over your sides as he mouthed for more of you, swallowing the little moans you made that vibrated through his body and it only revved is engine more. 

Taehyung was taken, completely taken by how much he wanted you that he could only see you, could only think about all the dirty but soft and tender and passionate things he wanted to do to you. 

One of his hands travelled underneath your thigh, pulling your leg up against him as he pressed his hips into your core, his hardening cock prodding you through his clothes once he started a gentle rocking motion. 

Your hands travelled up his beautiful neck and tangled into his hair as you reciprocated. A slight tug left him groaning into your mouth, causing you to buck up into him harshly and it sent Taehyung’s mind into a dangerous place. 

His breathing elevated against you, gripping your ribs so urgently it only made you pull him closer, arch your chest into his just so you could relish in the feeling. Your heart was thrumming in your chest, veins coursing with adrenaline so white hot it wasn’t long before you were moving desperately with Taehyung and it fueled your horny nerves.

Taehyung suddenly disconnected his mouth from you, breathing so shallow his chest was rising and falling fast. He was only centimeters above as he looked down at you, his eyes boring into yours with such a prominent sense of longing, want, pure desire, it took him no time to speak. 

“Do you know how long..” He took a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that?” 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?” You replied, hands now smoothing over his shoulders to feel him, his body raging hot as he laid on top of you, looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted. 

“Fuck, we’re so stupid.” Taehyung quickly said before his mouth crashed onto yours. This time there was something carnal in his kiss, something urgent and hot and it only made you pull him closer for more. 

His tongue began to lick over your lips, slithering inside your mouth and the taste of him was euphoric, making you tangle your tongue with his just to taste him over and over again, until it was safe to say your tongues were down each other’s throats. 

He kissed you sloppily, kissed until he was consuming you, his fingers digging into your thigh and side so fervently you knew there’d be marks, and it made your spine shiver, even more so when he spoke again. 

“The minute.. I saw you in that dress..” He breathed out, kissing in between the exhaustion of his lungs. “I wanted to rip it off you.” 

You groaned desperately at his confession, wanting Taehyung in ways that were so utterly carnal, almost feral, your entire being wanting to consume every inch of him, lay a million kisses across his honey-coloured skin and hear his caramel voice whisper into your ear, and so it didn’t take long for you to voice your desire. 

“Taehyung..” You sighed, a satisfied lilt to your tone and it only lit Taehyung on fire. 

“Mm?” He hummed, licking into your mouth on a quest for everything inside, his hips now grinding into your clothed cunt so harshly he was practically dry humping you, and without a second thought you were moving yourself against him too, hands exploring his broad chest. 

“Taehyung..” You were more urgent, and it made Taehyung grunt harshly. “Rip it off me, Tae, unwrap me like you said you would.” You started harshly tugging at his offensive shirt, tracing the column of his throat as you relished in his delicious kisses. 

And it all made Taehyung move so much harder, so much more roughly you were moaning into his mouth at the press of his hard, long cock against your aching core. 

“Ruin me, Taehyung.” You scratched your nails against his neck, swallowing him into your mouth as you talked. “I want you to ruin me.” 

“Fuck,” Taehyung swore, his length beginning to prod you so much more apparently as you bucked your hips up into him, it was sending Taehyung down the proverbial hole. And when you let out another gorgeous moan of his name, he knew he was a goner. 

“Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.” 

Taehyung then harshly grabbed your wrists and forced them against the couch in a single motion, eyes growing dark with heat radiating of his body in waves. He darted to the underside of your jaw and kissed hard, began mouthing at your skin until he travelled to the junction of your neck, sucking over the sensitive skin so rampantly it had you squirming underneath him, desperately trying to feel him against your core. 

His pretty purple marks began blooming onto your neck, evidence of his raw desire for you, the years he spent longing for you. His teeth were nipping your skin, tongue licking over the bites as he pressed your wrists further into the couch the more you resisted. 

You breath hitched when he moved to the slightly exposed valley of your breasts, making your nipples harden at just the prospect of his mouth travelling there. You began fighting his hold, causing you to arch into him as something dawned on you. 

“Taehyung.. your shirt.” You whined, trying to manage the pleasure of his mouth canvasing your skin. 

Taehyung left you for a mere second to shred off the annoying piece of clothing, tossing it aside as he returned to you urgently, your legs hooking around his torso as he came back to you. 

His mouth was sucking hickeys onto your chest again when his hands began to smooth down your sides, so sensually purposeful until he reached underneath the hem of your dress, hooking onto the waistline of your pantyhose and panties, tugging teasingly. 

Your core ignited at just his touch against bare skin, gushing as your hips harshly grinded against his body and your hands smoothed over the lean muscle of his body. 

He yanked the pieces of clothing down the curve of your ass, proceeding to pull them past your thighs as you unhooked your legs to help take them off you. 

The rush of the cold against your wet pussy lips made your breath hitch beautifully, one of Taehyung’s hands moving your skirt to let his large, warm palm cup your sex so pleasurably the contrast of the size of his hand and your little cunt sent you both ablaze. 

“You’re so small, think you can take me, good girl?” Taehyung breathed against your chest. “I’ll fuck up your insides.” His baritone voice was dark and low as he warned you, sent arousal spiking through your nerves as you groaned. 

“Fuck up my insides, Tae.” You desperately moaned out, hands finding Taehyung’s hair as he continued to lay searing kisses to your hot skin, his fingers rubbing your dripping folds harshly. “I just.. I need you, Taehyung, so fucking badly.” 

“Say it again.” Taehyung hissed, exposing one of your bare breasts from your dress and pressing his tongue against a perched nipple, the wet sensation so satisfying you were scratching his shoulder blades. 

“I-I need you, Taehyung.” 

“Need me where?” He growled as he pressed against your clit and circled it, collecting your slick and spreading it all over yourself. 

And it was hard, so fucking hard to think straight with your bare, soaking wet pussy was rubbing against Taehyung’s rough fingers and his lips sucking your exposed nipple for dear life, the pleasure burning inside you so hot your voice was coming out in choked moans. 

“Need you inside, Taehyung.” You gasped out. “So empty without you, so fucking empty, for so long.” 

“God, fuck.” Taehyung groaned proudly, popping off your breast to look at your half-lidded eyes, his own blown out with his hair mussed and lips swollen pink. He returned to your lips again as his hands simultaneously hooked underneath your thighs and suddenly lifted you off the couch, your legs secured around his torso as he walked you into what you assumed was his bedroom. 

Your core rubbed against the buckle of Taehyung’s belt as he walked and you gushed oceans, the cool metal providing such delicious friction you were moaning satisfyingly into Taehyung’s mouth, grinding against him for more. 

His kiss was fervent even when he splayed you onto his covers, back hitting the bed as you stroked your hands over his beautiful bare chest. 

Taehyung suddenly came off you, eyes going wild as he looked down at your panting figure underneath him, then your offensive dress. 

“Fuck this thing.” Taehyung nearly ripped it from your body, shredding the pretty fabric off and simply basked in the glory of seeing your naked body for the very first time. 

Taehyung’s eyes filled with pure wonder, the moonlight and reflection of white snow falling outside adding a glow to your skin he couldn’t help but marvel at, your curves so beautiful he wanted to run his hands all over, the purple of his marks left on you only making him blossom with more arousal, more passion. 

“Holy shit, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Taehyung’s face was so blown away, you couldn’t help but grow a little shy, bringing him close to you by his neck so you could breathe into his ear. 

“Good, I hear you ruin them.” 

Taehyung could only smirk, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek, cock twitching at just your words. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Taehyung trailed one hand down your body, momentarily wrapping it around your throat until it was gliding over your nipple and down to your core, lining the lips of your pussy so teasingly you were reeling. 

The pads of his fingers smoothed over your pussy lips again, applying pressure to your clit that had you lurching, until he used the opportunity to slide two fingers into your aching hole with ease. 

“You’re so fucking wet, dripping all over my fingers.” He growled into your ear as he laid himself on top of you, his free hand holding your face while the other worked your core. 

The sharpness of his long, slender fingers were euphoric, causing you to moan loudly. You could see his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his slacks almost painfully, and you jutted your hand out to begin palming him generously. 

Taehyung could finally hiss as loud as he wanted, screwing his eyes shut in sheer pleasure. 

He began pumping you faster in response, sliding in and out so deliciously you were moaning incessantly against his mouth as he began kissing you again. Your breasts were pressing into Taehyung’s bare chest the more you arched yourself, closing the offensive gap between you both and the skin to skin contact sending you both to cloud nine. 

“Taehyung..” You moaned in between kisses, so shameless about your desire for him you only wanted to know his name. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Fucking hell, that does shit to me.” Taehyung began thrusting harshly into your hole now as punishment, practically finger-fucking you against his bed till it made your walls clamp down on him, trap his slender fingers inside so you could feel every heavenly inch of them.

You became hungry for more, your hand grabbing at Taehyung’s straining cock harder and the strangled groan that left his lips was so fucking beautiful, your insides were screaming. 

“Shit, Taehyung,” You moaned out breathlessly. “You’re so hot like this, so fucking hot. Fuck me, fuck me like you said you would. ” 

Taehyung’s breaths turned heavy and hungry, his cock aching to be inside you so painfully he was going insane at your every word. 

“Fuck. I’m fucking you into next week. I’m fucking you until you only know my name. Fucking you until you know how badly I’ve wanted you, until your legs are shaking and you feel me in your throat.” 

“Then do it.” You nearly cried out, hands fumbling with the waistband of Taehyung’s pants. Your pussy was aching so excruciatingly around Taehyung’s fingers your slick was gushing from you, all over him and it only made Taehyung feral thinking about what would happen if it were his dick instead. 

“Fucking do it, Taehyung, fuck me until I’m shaking.” 

Taehyung flipped his switch and suddenly shoved his fingers so deep inside you, scissoring you completely open it made you lurch up in searing pleasure. His large palm grabbed underneath your head and positioned you upwards, able to angle his fingers so he could smash them inside you so harshly it was pathetic it wasn’t even his dick that had you high, but just his fingers. 

“Holy fuck, Taehyung!” 

“Cum all over my fingers, pretty. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung growled into your ear, couldn’t help but think about your walls convulsing around his dick and it was euphoric hearing you moan, all fucked out underneath him. 

He couldn’t stop finger-fucking you like his life depended on it, wanted to fill you up in so many ways you’d remember him for weeks. 

You were almost there, the edge so close. It was racking the bottom of your stomach, had your toes curling and walls pounding so snug around Taehyung’s fingers you could only latch onto the nape of his neck for dear life. 

You felt it, felt it so near and had his name leaving your mouth in such an intoxicating mantra you were seconds from letting go. Seconds, milliseconds, just about to release your impending orgasm until Taehyung ripped his fingers out of you. 

You gasped scandalously at the loss, body buzzing with your unachieved high it made your exclaim come out in a garbled protest.  “Taehyung, what the fuck?!” 

You tried getting an answer, but Taehyung’s hungry, half-lidded eyes shut you up immediately, watching him lick his fingers like he was starved, like this was the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted. 

“Fuck, you taste as sweet as you look.” Taehyung’s grin was evil, and it made you turned on but pissed he denied your orgasms. 

“You’re so-” You attempted to get out, but Taehyung suddenly flipped you onto all fours in a second, your hands and knees anchored onto the bed with only your shocked figure confused. 

“T-Taehyung, what are you-” You then sighed at the sudden touch of his tongue meeting your weeping hole in a devilish swipe. It was intoxicating, feeling his wet muscle begin licking into your core and tasting your soaked folds from behind. 

“I’m doing what you asked..” His voice was dark and weighty, and that’s when you suddenly felt another sensation of his two fingers returning to your throbbing entrance. Your insides buzzed when he spoke against your core, grittier than he ever has all night. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” 

And his tongue suddenly slithered into your hole when he removed his fingers, licking into your entrance in a harsh rhythm as his palms began grabbing at your ass, kneading the meaty flesh as he straight up devoured your pussy like it was the only thing he’s wanted his entire life. 

His tongue was lapping you fervently, so starved your dissipated orgasm was coming back again. You were winded, having never been eaten out like this and you were moaning his name loud enough to get noise complaints filed to the police. 

“Taehyung!” You cried out, though he didn’t let up. Instead he brought one of his hands to your pulsing clit, circling and applying so much necessary pressure you were losing your mind, insane off the fact he hadn’t even filled you up with his cock yet and you were pathetic underneath him. 

“Fucking God, Taehyung, Tae!” And when he groaned so audibly into your pussy, rutting himself against the bed for friction it sent you flying, soaring into the sky and losing all coherent thought as your orgasm bubbled in your stomach, his husky voice grounding you to Earth. 

“Cum for me, baby, now.” And that was all it took to have you lurching over the edge, releasing your pent up orgasm so violently you were nearly screaming, Taehyung’s name the only distinguishable thing rolling off your tongue. 

He licked up your juices like they were fresh water, helping you ride out your euphoric orgasm and allowing yourself a moment to rest. You breathed, falling onto the bed in exhaustion, trying to quell the blood pumping in your ears when Taehyung suddenly pulled you back onto your hands and knees, cautioning you darkly when he spoke. 

“You thought we were done?” It was evil, he was evil, the way his voice sounded like the epitome of a smirk as you tried catching your breath. Taehyung’s lips then suddenly ghosted the shell of your ear as he wrapped an arm around your torso, pressing his chest to your back as he spoke. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

And again, it was the ‘yet’ that had you groaning out in frustration but in the best possible ways. How wasn’t this already enough? How did he have you so fucked out just by the sheer power of his fingers and tongue? It was sickening, he was sickening and you found yourself throwing your ass back on him to urge his cock into you already, to just fuck you open with all he had. 

“Taehyung, just-fuck! Fuck me, please.” You were pleading, needing to feel the wreckage of what you could tell was the biggest cock you’ll ever take.  

Taehyung had removed his pants and boxers in the moment, freeing his painfully angry cock from it’s confines. You were faltering from your position again when Taehyung suddenly prodded your abused hole with his engorged tip, you shuddering to life harshly. 

“Taehyung, just-” 

“Beg me.” 

You cried out in immediate desperation, his voice so authoritative it was sending you into submission, clutching the covers under you so hard your knuckles were white as you complied. “Taehyung, please, fuck me. I need you, please.” 

Taehyung’s arm was snug around your torso, feeling your every quaking expire in his hold and it was turning him on so agonizingly this was painful even for himself, but the way your sweet voice begged him was absolutely exhilarating.

“More.” 

“Taehyung, if you don’t fucking-!” You were cut off by the sharp impalement of Taehyung’s cock in a single breath, knocking all forms of wind out of you. The head alone was so large you went hurtling into the mattress, almost losing your shaking arms’ support until Taehyung pulled you back up for him, snaking his one hand that was previously around his cock to your breast while the other gripped at your hip. 

He was slowly sinking in, feeling your walls flutter open for him and the satisfied moan that left his mouth was evidence of how much this was affecting him. 

“Fuck...” Taehyung dragged out completely content, digging into your hip to watch you arch your back for him, on his knees as he filled you up from behind. “You’re so fucking tight and wet, holy shit.” 

You were struggling for air, oxygen leaving your lungs trying to accommodate for his monstrous size. It was unfair, so unfair he was so big and it had you praising him immediately, so full and stuffed it was the most pleasurable thing you’ve experienced all your life. 

“You’re so big, oh my God, Taehyung, so big.” One of your hands shot towards his holding you by your hip, interlacing your fingers together against your skin just to ground yourself, to manage the sharp pierce of his length until it simmered into a pleasurable burn. 

He bottomed out into your cervix and you both grunted loud, Taehyung containing himself just so he could feel your velvet walls palpitate around his throbbing dick. “Do you feel how hard I am, Y/N? Do you fucking feel it?” 

“Yes, God fuck! Tae, yes..” You sighed out, eyes watering at just how much pleasure was already raking your abdomen again. 

“That’s what you do to me, you barely touched me and this is how hard I am. How fucking badly I want you, how much I’ve always wanted you, wanted you since day one.” Taehyung’s voice was sincere and desperate, seemingly trying to counter your confession of your feelings from earlier.

“Show me, Taehyung.” You moaned, hands gripping his more affectionately, more desperately as you weakly held yourself up by the other. “Fuck me and show me how much you want me.” 

Taehyung grunted out harshly, pulling his cock out of you until he thrusted back in. The first thrust had you keening, sending you into the mattress only to have Taehyung pull you back up once again. Then the second came, your walls greedily soaking him into you and it felt perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to connect with each other. 

Then came the third, the fourth, the fifth, all the way until Taehyung was pounding into you from behind with a drag so delicious you were moaning out more than you ever have in your entire life. 

And it was sickening, utterly sickening the way his dick began fucking you into the mattress so roughly, angling your body in ways for his cock to pump into all the right places with the right amount of pressure. He watched himself disappear into your little cunt repeatedly, holding your hip up to encourage you to arch so low your ass was snug against his pelvis, and couldn’t think of anything more fucking perfect. 

“You take me so well, so fucking well.” Taehyung praised, leaning over to aimlessly lay wet kisses up your spine like the demon he was, shoving himself into you over and over and over again with your walls convulsing around him.

You were trapping him inside you so tight he could spill into you in seconds, though held back determined he was making you cum again.

“So full, Taehyung, so deep.. all I feel is you.” The statement left you with a desperate sigh, your head hanging low until Taehyung’s hand kneading your breast suddenly wrapped around your throat, causing you to gasp at the arousing feeling. He pulled your head upwards, the junction between his long index finger and thumb forcing you to look forward, and you were utterly breathless at the scene.

His lips were near your ear in seconds, speaking like the devil incarnate as he was bent over you. “Look at us, look at yourself, so fucking pretty, so perfect.” You could suddenly see the reflection of Taehyung fucking into you from behind in his window, not even knowing tears had streamed down your face as his hand beautifully encased your throat, causing every nerve in your body to alight with fire. 

“Look at the way I fuck you, how much I love you.” Taehyung’s carnal eyes looked at you through the reflection of the window, heart twinging at the sight of you crying but knowing he’s making you feel good, continuing his onslaught of drilling your battered pussy. 

You moaned at the erotic scene, using every ounce of strength to keep yourself upright, your walls pulsing around Taehyung’s length as he thrusted harder and harder.

“Tae, fuck! I’ve always loved you, I always felt the same way, and I still do-ah!” Your lungs were tapping out when he suddenly shoved himself inside you to the brim, so utterly deep before he was thrusting again harshly, strangling out moans. 

Clear sweat was slick between your bodies, his huge, delicious cock incessantly tearing up your insides and all you could do was chant his name in pleasure, in bliss, in your love for him that was burning so bright it was nearly painful. 

“Y/N.. fuck. You’re ruining me. You’re so perfect, we’re so fucking perfect.” Taehyung was rambling at this point as his speed reflected his desperation, his immeasurable feelings for you. 

He was trying his damn hardest to distract himself from the release aching his balls. He was growing weak himself, feeling you reciprocate his rough thrusts by fucking him back the same way. And the image in the window? Had him reeling, needing to hear the most beautiful sound you’d make when you finally came, and he knew you would, bordering the precipice with the way your walls pulsed around him. 

Watching Taehyung fuck you in the window was now downright sinful to you, his harsh thrusts completely blissful and his hand gently squeezing at your throat was so dominant, so hot you were at your limit and ready to come. 

But what ended up sending you over, pushing you to release the tightening knot in your stomach was the sweet, tender way Taehyung began kissing your neck. 

The contrast between his cock abusing you and his plush lips kissing you so gently, so lovingly, it wasn’t long before you realized his fucking wasn’t just hard or rough, but full of sheer want, desire, love in all the right ways your walls were clenching around him rapidly in seconds. 

And when Taehyung angled himself somehow deeper, in that one, perfect spot, you clamped down and finally came so hard you saw stars, knew you’d completely drenched his cock with the loudest release of his name you were glad it was the only word you knew in this moment. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” Taehyung breathed out in exhaustion, began soothing your abdomen with one hand and the other letting your head finally hang, grip loosened from around your throat and you could finally allow air back into your lungs. 

You were heaving when you spoke up, realizing something. “Inside me.. Taehyung.” You were dreary, utterly gone, but it still didn’t distract you from the blissful feeling of Taehyung’s cock deliciously stuffed and throbbing inside you, trying to coax his rightful release. “Cum inside me, Tae. Please, fill me up.” 

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice when his cock worked a few more rough strokes into your tightened pussy and finally, finally came inside you. It was laced with a satisfied groan of your name, his grip on your side so intense you’d be glad if he left marks, wanting to remember every last bit of this night with Taehyung. 

He painted you completely white inside, spilling everything he could offer into you, using what little strength he had left to hold you up while he continued to empty his seed inside. Taehyung then lost all function and allowed you to fall, his broad body resting on top of yours as you both hit the mattress. 

Your chests rose and fell shallowly, completely taxed and having lost every ounce of strength. Taehyung’s hot breaths for air were fanning your neck, your arms sprawled out before you as Taehyung’s hands mindlessly interlaced with them against the tousled covers, cock still stuffing you whole. 

It was another moment of breathing and regaining oxygen when Taehyung suddenly kissed the side of your neck, giving your hands a small squeeze before you felt him lifting himself, his warmth disappearing and you panicked. 

“Where are you going?” Your throat was hoarse from screaming and moaning, a tinge of sadness to your tone as though he was leaving you, and Taehyung couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He smiled, moving your hair from the side of your face to plant a kiss to your cheek, post-sex haze racking his brain though allowing reality to leak back into his mind. 

He then carefully, slowly pulled himself out of you, you whining at the loss of him and Taehyung smiled to himself in contentment, smoothing over your lower back with a palm in gratitude, before stepping towards his bathroom. 

He’d pulled his boxers back on and returned with a damp cloth, finding you still flipped and laying on your stomach, having dozed off in exhaustion until you felt Taehyung’s warmth and heard his dulcet voice hazing you awake. 

“Y/N, turn over for me.” His voice was hushed and tender, you complying by turning onto your back with his help. He then carefully swept the cloth against your battered core, you wincing a little with sensitivity and Taehyung made sure to clean more gently. 

The cloth was thrown back into his bathroom when he turned back to you, an arm thrown over your tear-stained face and the other clutching your body, clearly shivering in the cold now.

Taehyung easily scooped you into his arms and lifted you off the bed, carrying you over to his pillows and delicately placing you upon his duvet, pulling the covers out from underneath you and tucking you into his bed. 

You curled up into his blanket, Taehyung searching through his drawers for a stray t-shirt you could wear. He then lifted you into a sitting position, your eyes evidently sleepy and body limp as he pulled the shirt onto you, letting you fall back in place. 

Taehyung could only chuckle to himself thinking he did mean to ruin you, but not so harshly you were devoid of consciousness. He placed a little kiss to your forehead in apology, wiping some of the tears off your face before he rounded the bed, crawling in next to you.

His arms reached out to pull your back snug against his chest, feeling the sleep in the back of his eyes take him. He basked in the strawberry scent of your hair, completely gratified until you suddenly turned over towards him. 

His eyes shot open, only the top of your head coming into view as you nuzzled into his warm chest, your small self all tucked into Taehyung as he wrapped his arms around you like a safety net, holding you near.

And in that moment, all he could focus on was your light breathing, the sweet sound of your voice as you suddenly spoke in the dark of the night, moonlight glowing upon your entangled bodies. 

“I love you, Taehyung.” 

He grinned, the kind where he felt relieved, fulfilled, in a state of sheer bliss it was a moment before he replied, his own voice calm as you felt the hum through his chest, his hand tangled in your hair. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

The morning sun bled into Taehyung’s room, your eyes fluttering open at a time you had no concept of. You stirred, finding yourself still in Taehyung’s arm, in relatively the same position from last night. You didn’t even feel like moving from his hold, the feeling so utterly fuzzy and comforting. 

You basked in the sensation until he began to stir next to you, pretty eyelashes batting as his eyes fluttered open. His sights fell to you, eyes adorably taken by sleep while his soft hair was endearingly mussed by his pillow. You smiled at him warmly as he grinned back.

“Good morning.” you said shyly, nearly hiding underneath his covers. 

“Good morning.” 

You then flopped onto your back peering up at the ceiling, last night coming back to you in dream-like flashes you were surprised was somehow your reality. 

It was just miraculous, utterly unbelievable until Taehyung turning into your side and snuggling his face into your neck was evidence everything was real, that he was real. It wasn’t some remnant of a dream or hallucination, but the real Taehyung as his arm draped over your stomach. 

You had to bite your lip to contain your happiness, utter exuberance the universe had somehow finally paired you and him together, and funnily enough, on Christmas of all days. 

“What are you thinking about, princess?” Taehyung hummed into your collarbone inquisitively, half asleep as he cuddled you. 

You smiled, basking in his comfort. “Merry Christmas, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung chuckled against you, arm pulling you closer to him as he kissed your neck. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

“Can you believe we met each other again during Christmas? It’s like the perfect Christmas miracle.” You marveled in wonder, tracing your finger along Taehyung’s pretty hand on your stomach. 

“I mean, you know what Andy Williams said..” He mused next to you, husky voice laden with sleep. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

[thepixelelf]

I posted 4,880 times in 2022

1,280 posts created (26%)

3,600 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jminwook

@woozi

@bisexualgyu

@ only-aroha-would-know

@xuseokgyu

I tagged 4,119 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#stickynotes.tpe - 756 posts

#seventeen - 678 posts

#golden child - 377 posts

#asks - 291 posts

#astro - 272 posts

#major ursa moment - 169 posts

#woozi - 168 posts

#anonymous - 158 posts

#kpop scenarios - 148 posts

#kpop imagines - 148 posts

rise of the major ursa moment tag 😎 I switched to being ursa halfway through the year so it's fun to see that up there. also omg uji being the only individual person on the top 10... truly I am weak for him

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and the way seokmins death was explained in 1251 so efficiently and yet made the audience 'figure it out' in the simplest sense— wonderful

@97-liners jackie got my longest tag and it was worth every letter 💕

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

and the universe said,

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

genres: comedy disguised as romance and romance disguised as comedy, soulmate au, technically an alternate universe but they're still idols, fluff, angst?, short chapters

relationship(s): SVT ot13 x reader

warnings: 18+ (there will be no smut but perhaps suggestive parts and multiple references to/jokes about sex and I honestly just don't feel comfy with minors reading my writing of that stuff sorry). coarse language. everybody's a little bit very stupid. individual chapters will have their own warnings

See the full post

593 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#4

First to Fall - SVT 95 line (Completed!)

What happens when two friends who are ‘bad at love’ want to prove each other wrong?

Genres: romance, comedy, idiots-to-lovers, university au

Pairing: Reader & S.Coups (feat. Jeonghan & Joshua)

Warnings: language, absolute dumbassery

Note: this is a recast of an smau I have posted before

•••

Profiles

1. Taemin from SHINee

2. Scout’s Honour

3. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

4. Boom

5. First Date Types

6. As if

7. Wait What Happened

8. Awkward Silence

9. You Have No Idea

10. Emergency

11. No, Maybe

12. I Need To Tell You Something

13. Should’ve Gone First

14. I Don’t Know

15. Priorities

16. Missed

17. Standby for Backup

18. Starstruck

19. I’m Gonna Do Something

20. Because

21. A to B

22. Let’s Talk

See the full post

651 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

#3

powerpoints I think seventeen would bring to a ppt sleepover

scoups: Exactly How Many Minutes After Midnight Each of You Texted Me on My Birthday

jeonghan: Cheating at Everything: Is it Really a Crime?

joshua: When To Quit a Bit (I Wish I Knew)

jun: Good Soup :]

hoshi: I *AM* a Tiger (NOT CLICKBAIT)

wonwoo: Why Cats Are Better Than People

woozi: Top 300 Best Animes Of All Time

dk: My Friends as Pizza Toppings and Combinations

mingyu: Receipts of Every Time You Guys Have Cyberbullied Me (Mostly Instagram)

the8: The Art of Shutting the Fuck Up Sometimes

seungkwan: 12 Slides of Secrets Y'all Have Confided to Me And I Will Only Skip Over Yours if You Admit I'm Your Favourite

vernon: cat videos 🐈‍⬛🐈

dino: I Am Underappreciated in This Household

832 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

#2

Or, Would You Rather it be Me?

Genres: romance, soulmate au, university au, (no angst isn’t that crazy?!) Pairing: Reader & Vernon (Seventeen) Words: 7.9k (00:31) Warnings: language. (spoiler: the characters make out and shirts are taken off but it doesn’t get described past that) Notes: well well well well well… what’s this? a soulmate fic by casey thepixelelf with no angst in sight? it must be christmas! oh wait, it is (was)! happy (EXTREMELY LATE I’M SO SORRY) holidays mia @ memesolvernonchwe​ !! hope you like it :)

set in the Words that Bind Us universe

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another... what could possibly go wrong?

See the full post

840 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bouquets for a Friend (From a Friend)

Genres: romance, ceo au, secretary/personal assistant au Pairing: Reader & S.Coups (Seventeen) Words: 1.6k Warnings: cheol gets drunk off-screen Notes: another recasted fic because ceo cheol has me in a metaphoric literal chokehold sorry

Your boss gets flowers quite often. This time, when he does, he wants to get rid of them, and who are you to turn down free flowers?

See the full post

wow that svt powerpoint post really climbed up last minute 😭 really happy to see or would you rather it be me here, though, because I feel like that's the post I worked the hardest on in this list. not surprised about #1.... it was a repost but I should've expected carats' weakness to ceo cheol lmao

852 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[theartificialdane]

//

“How many dicks did you get?”

“None! And that ain’t a spoiler. I already got my dick, it’s waiting for me at home.” Vanjie grins. “Unless I get too blasted while we up in here.”

///

“Oh but you know they taking those taxes out. I learned that the hard way.”

“Because you won something?”

“No, but my husband found out my ass didn’t know how taxes work. That was a shit show day. He got so disappointed in me he made a powerpoint and everything while explaining. Don’t recommend the course, but the teacher’s real hot!”

///

“If y’all wanted me to come in full gear, I need financial compensation, learned that from Mama Ru. I love feeling cute and serving stunt, but gettin’ in drag takes time, and there ain’t no way I’m sitting down for an entire day of interviews with my dick crying for help. I didn’t even do that for the season 11 reunion.”

///

“What I got in this bag? Everything from the mini bar, this production put me in a nice hotel. You want some tiny vodka? I got plenty.”

///

“I don’t do nothing to anything but my face. The ass you seeing is home grown. I get the squads in, eating the good food, dancing on stage, going along on hikes. It all adds up!

///

“I think marriages one of the reasons Angelina and I get along so good. As far as I know, we were the only two people in the house with somebody at home, and bitch, I’m loyal as fuck.”

“And we recognised that in each other.”

“Fuck yeah. Wasn’t no way I was gonna be flirting with nobody, so we just lit up and got our dranks on to have a good time!”

///

“We was gone for three and a half week, and we were filming everyday. I ain’t saying drag race is easy, but you get time off when you do that. Here, we barely even had time to call home. I should’ve read the contract for real for real, cause I didn’t realise we would be going outside the United States till my manager asked if I knew where my passport was. Normally when me or Brock films stuff, we either in L.A or Canada, but with Marocco, the time difference was fully fucked up.”

///

“I bet the catering was fine for everybody else, but I’m picky as shit. I don’t like none of my food touching, I ain’t eating something if it’s hot when it’s ‘posed to be cold or the other way ‘round, the veggies needa be fresh, not frozen or from a can. I ain’t touching soup either, the only kinda liquid I fuck with, is if it’s alcohol og redbull.”

///

“I quit a few times. I try, but I don’t get the kinda motivation you need to not be a lil bitch when I don’t like what’s going on. If I’d been on this show in like, 2020 or 2019, I probably would’ve quit, cause back then, I didn’t have any of the discipline I do now. Angelina had’a talk me down a few times too.”

“And you also didn’t want to have to tell your husband that you quit a TV commitment.”

“That too! And if we honest, it’s the real reason I stayed on.”

///

“So, Vanjie, we know you’re on air right now, but do you have any other TV things lining up?”

“I do, or, it ain’t for me, but a production company reached out, wanting to do a documentary on Brooke Lynn.”

“Here we go again.”

“And that’s your husbands drag name.”

“Mmh! He’s one of the most decorated drag queens ever. Miss Continental, Drag Race winner, Miss Gay America, he was even an entertainer of the year runner up! And that’s besides the prices he’s got for hosting Canadas Drag Race!”

“The two of you met on the show right?”

“The American franchise! Season 11 baby. We the first ever onscreen romance, and we’re still going strong, so if anybody ever say you can’t find love in a hopeless place, they wrong.”