#I’m sure you can see what happened here

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.��

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[harunayuuka2060]

Azul: I'm sure you already know why you're here.

MC: *has been summoned to Octavinelle*

Azul: If a third party intentionally causes one party to breach their legally binding contract, they could be sued for tortious interference.

Azul: That's what you've been doing for some time now.

MC: ...

MC: I'm afraid I lack knowledge when it comes to business matters. Surely, you won’t hold that against me.

Azul: That's unfortunate. However, I can use other methods to ensure you fully understand what you've done.

MC: *smiles* Oh, would you?

Azul: *confused frown* You seem quite confident for someone who just came from another world.

MC: Yes, considering I've never been from this world, I certainly know how to put you at a disadvantage.

Azul: I don’t have time for bluff— *his eyes widened*

Azul: How—WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!

MC: The only place you can find this photo is at the Atlantica Memorial Museum.

MC: I just happened to go there with my dorm leader and then I saw this photo.

MC: Something in the back of my mind urged me to get it.

Azul: You’re intending to use that as a blackmail material.

MC: Yes.

Azul: ...

Azul: *forces a smile* It takes more than that to intimidate me.

MC: ...

MC: I see. You're right.

MC: If others were to see it, it wouldn’t bother you.

Azul: Y-Yes. Now hand it to me.

MC: ...

MC: *stood up from their seat* No. This photo represents a cherished memory. If you won't value it, I may as well keep it.

Azul: ...

MC: *makes their way to the door*

Azul: Wait! We can still discuss—

*The door shuts.*

Azul: ...

Jade: *who didn't bother to interrupt throughout their conversation*

Jade: That was quite clever. *chuckles*

Jade: It's been a while since someone outsmarted you, Azul.

Azul: Quiet!

Azul: I need to steal that photo back.

Jade: Leave it to me.

Floyd: Eh~ Was the photo even legit?

Jade: Yes. We saw it with our own two eyes.

Floyd: *sigh* Alright. Who is it?

Jade: It's the person who single-handedly defeated a group of Savanaclaw students.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: *flashes an exciting yet terrifying smile*

Floyd: Why didn't you say earlier~?

Malleus: *sad pouty face* Aren't you heading back to the dorm with Dada?

MC: *smiles apologetically* There's something I need to do.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *sigh* Alright.

MC: By the way, Dada, please try not to eat too much ice cream today.

Malleus: *pouts*

MC: *chuckles*

Malleus: *smiles* Well, just call me if you run into any trouble.

MC: *nods*

Malleus: *kisses their forehead then disappears*

MC: ...

Floyd: Eh~ How sweet~ Is Sea Slug your boyfriend~? *appears from the place where he's hiding*

MC: No.

Floyd: Are you sure~? Hehee~

MC: You're not here to be curious about that.

Floyd: Wow, straight to the point~. I like that.

Floyd: I've been wanting to give you a squeeze since the tournament~.

*A student rushes to report to Crowley.*

Scarabia student: Sir! MC and Floyd are fighting on Main Street!

Crowley: What?!

*Crowley, along with Professor Trein and Professor Crewel, hurried to Main Street to break up the fight between MC and Floyd.*

Crowley: Stop right this instant!

Professor Trein: Leech! You ought to know better than to harm students who are weaker than you—

Floyd: *turns his head* Huh?!

Professor Trein: ...

*MC's uniform is crooked, and their hair is messy from the fight, while Floyd, on the other hand, has light bruises on his cheek and traces of blood on his nose.*

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *looks at MC* Did you win, pup?

Floyd: I didn't lose yet, Beakfish!

MC: ...

Crowley: That's enough!

*In the faculty office, MC and Floyd are being asked why they fought in the first place.*

MC: ...

Floyd: ...

Professor Crewel: Aren't you both going to speak up?

MC and Floyd: ...

Crowley: Since you refused to provide a statement, I’m afraid both of you will have to face punishment.

Crowley: You will be helping the ghosts in the cafeteria for the next two weeks.

Floyd: *frowns* Why~?

MC: I'll do it.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: *smiles* Seashell-chan~ Let's continue our fight when no one's looking~.

Professor Trein: No. That was the end of it.

Floyd: Tch.

MC: ...

Azul: You lost to MC and failed to retrieve the photo.

Floyd: Eh~ Was I supposed to get it~?

Azul: JADE TOLD YOU!

Jade: It seems Floyd forgot due to his excitement.

Azul: ...

Azul: *breathes in* I'm going to handle this myself from now on.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Thinking about reader finally stumbling onto one of the dogs shifted into their human form. Maybe Soap raiding the cabinets in the kitchen for a late night snack? Reader obviously freaks tf out about a whole ass man in their house... but the rest of the force are still in their dog forms. Reader's confused why their once very protective dogs are completely okay with this strange man in their house, and why this man is claiming to be one of her dogs.

(Note that these answers are non-linear! I’ll be having fun with a few more asks/requests as if this hasn’t happened yet 😉)

All you wanted was some water to ease the dryness in your throat, but as soon as they noticed you picking up your phone from the bedside table, the dogs kept tugging at your clothes to hold you back—something they never did. You swatted them away without thinking much of it, though, too sleep-adled to think that maybe, just maybe, they were doing it for good reason.

And then you saw the man in your kitchen.

“Why are you naked.”

It wasn’t much of a question. More of a statement—or an exaggeration, really—because he wasn’t naked. He was just wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips, exposing a deep V-line and a happy trail that would’ve had you drooling if not for the sheer strangeness of the circumstances. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should be afraid—because it was comedic, the way he locked eyes with you, halfway through chomping down on a spoonful of cereal from not even a bowl, but a mug.

He swallows hard, and that’s when you grab a knife—earning several barks from your dogs. At you. Not him.

“He’s literally the intruder here!” you argue back. “You bark at, like, every other guy? What about him?! He’s massive!”

“Aw, thank y—“

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

The man’s smile tightens as he slowly puts the mug and spoon down, and lifts his hands as if in surrender. 

“Easy, lass,” he continues, eyes darting between your face and the knife. “I’m a friend.”

“The fuck you are—“

“Look. Look.” He gestures back and forth between himself and the dogs, who stand in place between you two. “You’re missin’ a pup, aren’t ya? Foxhound that gets into everything? Soap? Thah’s me!”

‘Me?’ What the hell was this guy thinking? But sure enough—just as he said—Soap was missing from the group. It was just Price, Ghost, and Gaz—all tense like you. If not more so. Gaz offers a whine in negotiation, stepping forward to get you to back up a little further, away from the stranger. There’s a beg—no—an intelligent plea in the Labrador’s eyes that nearly makes you falter, unsure of reason or rhyme.

Unsure of yourself.

“That’s— that’s not possible,” you laugh nervously, reaching for the phone in your pocket. “Dogs don’t turn into people, or vice versa. Now get out of my house or I’m calling the poli—“

— “Wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

And now there’s a third fucking person. Standing in your kitchen. Right where Price used to be. And now the shock runs cold, adrenaline gone in place of confusion. And a quick skip through the stages of grief into acceptance.

“Well,” is all that gets out of your mouth. “Shit.”

The world spins, and everything goes black. You’re out like a light. All you see is ‘human-Price’ moving forward, then darkness, and the sensation of two arms catching you before you hit the floor.

The boys hang around until morning light after that, sitting in the living room in dead silence. At least until Gaz gives a final suggestion.

“… You think we can pass it off as a dream?”

_

Bonus Thoughts:

You do, in fact, wake up as if it were a dream. Because you’re back in bed per usual, and the house is in order, and the dogs are piled around you like nothing ever happened. You eye them all suspiciously, then slap yourself. Because what kind of weirdo imagines her pets as hot, tall, buff men? Pervert.

Meanwhile, the boys are just exchanging the quietest glances before you settle back in bed. Because for a good few seconds, they think they’ve been discovered.

Also Soap has suffered a collective *bap* from everyone because it’s what he deserves for threatening their free food supply.

[luveline]

Hey!! I love love LOVE your criminal minds content so much, especially the Hotch with unexpected daughter reader. Is there any chance you’re gonna write more for that series? I’d literally take anything, the comfort vibes are off the charts with your works and I need some Hotch comfort. But no worries if not, hope you have a great week <33

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

Jack peers at you from over the furthest armrest. “Y/N. Are you grumpy?” 

“Do I look grumpy?” you ask. 

“Yes.” He pokes his eyebrow. “You do.” 

“My face is betraying me then, because I’m not grumpy.” 

“Mine does that to me all the time but mom doesn’t believe it.”

You give him a small nudge. “Your mommy probably knows you better than you know yourself, like, knows how you’re feeling before you do.” 

“But how does she know?”

“I think it’s because she loves you. She really loves you, babe. You’re lucky.” 

“So lucky.” He climbs over the armrest and onto the couch, smiling at you politely, like a friend he’s just found at school. 

You try to see the similarities in your faces. He looks more like Haley than he does Aaron. You look more like your mother, too. There are bits of Aaron in both of you, yours not quite as physical —Jack’s tame when it comes to expressing emotion, and you both talk in a measured tone. (Though your tone is coincidence or genetics, but not learned. You’d have to have known him growing up for it to be learned.) 

“Did dad tell you what mommy said?” Jack asks. 

You glance over his head but see no one. Aaron said he was going to get chips for movie night, and Haley tends to find things to do. “No.” 

“It’s a secret.” 

“Well, you don’t have to tell me.” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says. 

Your stomach feels not your own. “I won’t,” you promise. 

“Mommy says you’re here too much.” 

You nod slowly. Jack frowns at you as though waiting for you to be upset, but you’ve suspected she thinks so for a while. It’s not something you blame her for. 

Jack watches you. 

“Dad got really mad.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. That must’ve been scary.” 

Jack drops his face into your arm. “No. Dad doesn’t yell. But he slept in my room with me.” 

“Want a hug?” you whisper. 

Jack squirms under your arm. You pull him toward you and try to divide your feelings into boxes. Embarrassed and horrified and a little annoyed that Haley thinks you’re here too much. Sad and again embarrassed that Aaron defended you. 

This is Haley’s house, and she never signed up for you. She’s never made you feel unwelcome but that doesn’t mean she wants to see you every Saturday. You're a huge new wedge inserted in their married lives, and now you’re affecting Jack, making his parents argue.  

“I’m sorry,” you say, suddenly flooded by a wave of hot, awkward regret. 

You knew when you found out that Aaron was your father that you would change his life. You’ve always hoped it would be for the better, but maybe it isn’t. 

“Jack…” you say. What is it about hugging him that makes you feel like crying? “I’m real sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

“It’s not your fault. I like you here. You’re fun.” 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

He looks up at you. “Will you stop coming over?” 

“I guess it’s up to your mommy.” You falter. “Jack?”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry if having a new sister isn’t as fun as you thought it would be. I don’t want to make things harder for you, but I guess I did.” 

“Mom says everything is hard now.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in efforts to hide how you’re feeling. “I’m sorry. Um, listen, can I have a big hug? I just remembered I have to go help my mom at home.”

“You’re leaving?” 

“Sorry, Jack.” 

Jack gives you a hug. You gather your things and rush to the door to shove your shoes on, but your dad catches you before you can leave. 

“Where are you going?” Aaron asks, his smile falling.

“I–” He makes you nervous, and you know your stammer gives you away. “I forgot I had to do the laundry for my mom tonight, if I don’t do it she’ll be mad for days.” 

“I’m sure you can make it up to her tomorrow,” he suggests gently.

“I better go.”

“Honey, what’s really going on?”

“The laundry is really going on,” you say, unconvincing. “I have to go, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Well, I’ll see you on–”

You open the door before he can finish or offer a hug, image of him in his loose t-shirt carrying a tray of sandwiches burned into your guilty conscience. 

—

You don’t see Aaron for three weeks before he corners you. You owe your great avoidance to his busy job, but it didn’t feel good to reject him, to refuse to make time for him as he does for you. 

“You!” he says, clearly kidding but not entirely where he’s waiting outside of your university building. “Beautiful young woman in the blue! I have some questions for you.” 

It’s so absurd for him that you immediately burst into shy laughter. “Dad, what?” you ask, hiding your face. 

Classmates part around you, seemingly unperturbed. 

Aaron retrieves his badge. “See this? I could detain you, but I won’t if you come quietly. In fact, if you don’t argue I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“You’d buy my lunch regardless.” 

He grabs you. Kindly, but grabbing all the same, like he’s worried you’re about to scarper. “Where have you been hiding?” he asks, giving you a quick hug. You feel tenseness in his arms you're unused to, hear a sadness in his voice that makes your throat burn. 

Putting a table between you helps marginally. Aaron pretends he doesn’t know why you’ve been avoiding him and the Hotchner house, and you’re more than happy to go along with it, until. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. 

You press against a piece of soaked fruit with your spoon. “Okay.” 

“Haley and I are probably going to separate.” 

You bite your tongue so hard it makes you flinch, spoon scratching the bottom of your bowl. “What?” 

“We’ve been having problems ever since Jack was born.” 

You stare. 

Aaron is very still. He talks carefully. Not without emotion, but stilted, perhaps. “I’m not as good a father as I wish I were. And Haley sees that. Sweetheart, I haven’t ever wanted to burden you with the, uh, less than happy details of my life. I think you’ve suffered me enough. But I’m telling you because I know Jack told you about my most recent argument with Haley.” He smiles at you. “Honey, we fight too much. That day, it was about you, but it’s not all about you, and she doesn’t… Haley’s a good woman. She is. I’ve changed her life a hundred different ways and she hasn’t had many choices, and she…” Something vulnerable crops up, a wavering in his breath. “Sometimes I think she isn’t fair. She holds me to standards I can’t reach, no matter how hard I try, but we’ve stopped arguing about it so much recently, and I’m afraid that that’s… the death knell.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. 

“I’m going to keep trying. I don’t want to lose her.” He drinks what’s left of his soda and presses his napkin under the edge of his plate. “But I won’t lose you, you know? I just want you to understand that you’re not the problem, and you never could be.” 

“I don’t want to add another thing to your levy, dad,” you say, still soft. 

“Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, tied with your brother, of course. You aren’t a thing to be added to anything, you’re my daughter, and Haley might not like it but my home will always have a place for you.” 

What if that’s the problem? From his perspective, you’re not a hindrance to his marriage so much as a separate issue, but from your own, it sounds like you’re just making things worse. 

You’ve missed him, though, and you can’t argue that his reassurances aren’t working. 

“It’s not that Haley doesn’t like you,” he adds, reaching for your hand, “more that she’s unhappy. I’m sorry that that’s something you had to carry.” 

You often think to yourself that Aaron talks like he’s telling a story. He’s so calm and steady, the same as the feeling of his thumb on your wrist. 

“I’m sorry I stormed out.” 

“I wouldn’t call that storming out,” he says. “You’re too quiet sometimes. I wish you’d be upset out loud.” 

“I just don’t want you to fight about me.” 

“Honey,” —he holds your eyes, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze— “I’m always gonna fight for you. That’s what fathers do.”

[yeopoet]

. 𐙚 INNOCENT TOUCH

hyung line! ateez x gn! reader ֶָ֢ genre: fluff. warnings: none. word count: 906. the one where you blush hard.

author's note: i wrote this based on this post.

☆ ( kim hongjoong⠀ ) ... The biting wind makes your body shudder, despite the warmth of the jacket. You glance sideways at your coworker, Hongjoong, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets, seemingly unbothered by his bare arms. It was your oversight to forget your coat back at the office, and though he had no duty to shield you from the cold, he had shrugged off his jacket for you.

“Are you sure you're not cold?” you ask again, and he clicks his tongue.

“My hands are a little chilly, but it's no big deal,” he replies with a grin. “Besides, the restaurant’s just around the corner. No need to fuss.”

“I do need to fuss.” You inhale deeply, still unconvinced by his words, and start to remove the jacket. He stops you before you can. “I can see the goosebumps on your arms—”

He slips his hand into yours, guiding them into the jacket pocket. You freeze in surprise, but Hongjoong doesn’t let go, pressing his cold fingers around your warm ones.

“Just warm me up. That’ll do,” he says, as heat floods your cheeks with embarrassment. You try to hide it, resuming your walk as if nothing happened. “Are you blushing?” He asks.

“I’m not blushing. It’s just the cold.”

“Yeah, sure.”

☆ ( park seonghwa⠀ ) ... His words reach your ears, but not your brain. You’re silently hoping he doesn’t ask you any questions because you wouldn’t know how to answer. Not because you’re uninterested, but because there are two fallen eyelashes resting on his cheek, and now that you’ve noticed, it’s all you can focus on.

Without meaning to, you let out a small sigh, which makes Seonghwa stop mid-sentence as he’s talking about the last few movies he watched and the ones he’d like to rewatch with you. “Am I boring you?” he asks, flashing a small smile. You shake your head quickly.

“You could never bore me!” The words come out a bit too eagerly, trying to make up for your reaction, and Seonghwa laughs, raising his eyebrows. “It’s just... those two eyelashes on your cheek are completely distracting me.” You raise your hand toward his face. “Can I take them off?”

“Go ahead, if it’ll help you focus on me again.”

You laugh softly, brushing the eyelashes off his face with care. But your long nails make the task trickier than expected, dragging it out longer than it should. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on you, and despite your efforts to stay calm, the warmth spreading across your face is becoming all too noticeable.

“Why are you blushing?” he teases.

“I should be the one embarrassed. You’re just making up this eyelash thing to have an excuse to touch me,” he jokes, rolling his eyes, and you playfully smack his shoulder.

“Shut up! I wasn’t lying.” You hold up your finger. “Look, here they are.”

☆ ( jeong yunho⠀ ) ... The idea to go ice skating was entirely yours, but seeing Yunho's look of panic as you sit there with an injured foot after falling flat on the ice makes you think he’s blaming himself a little. “It was just a scare! It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” you try to reassure him.

“Still, I should’ve held your hand.” He takes a deep breath, brow furrowed, kneeling on the ground as he gently presses your foot. “Does it hurt when I touch here?”

“No, because the fall was so silly, I didn’t even have time to get hurt.”

“No fall is silly.” He pouts as he starts pressing and examining your leg. “How about here? Does this hurt?”

There’s nothing inappropriate about his touch, yet you feel your whole face heat up as Yunho’s hands move up and down your leg. Your delayed response catches his attention, and he looks up at you with a frown before realizing what’s going on. “Why is your face all red? Did the crash affect your head too?” He teases.

“Shut up! Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?”

☆ ( kang yeosang⠀ ) ... He’d been your childhood friend for so long, and seeing him again after five years apart, with barely any contact in between, felt strange. You didn’t expect things to be exactly the same as they were before, but sitting there in front of the goofball you used to call your best friend, you realize that some things never change, no matter how much time passes.

Yeosang is messily devouring the chocolate cookies you brought him, completely unaware of the crumbs all over his face.

“How old are you? Five?” you ask, crossing your arms as he looks at you with a huge question mark on his face. “Your mouth, Yeo—it’s covered in crumbs.”

“Oh!” He laughs, quickly wiping his mouth with his fingers, but since he can’t see where the crumbs are, he doesn’t do a very good job. “Is it clean now?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you reach out to wipe the spots he missed. Yeosang just lets you do it, without a word or protest, and most importantly, without taking his eyes off you.

“You’re blushing,” you tease, trying not to laugh.

“So are you.”

© yeopoet

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[eclipsiolos]

BF!CHRIS x OVERTHINKER!READER headcannons

summary: what’s it like to be chris’s girlfriend, who is a really bad overthinker :)

warnings: contains smut!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SFW

bf!chris who..

always makes sure to give you his undivided attention, hanging onto every word you say like it’s his first time having a conversation.

“mhm.. and what happened next, baby?”

“i’m listening, keep going.”

bf!chris who..

is always so patient with you, always making sure to be gentle and soothe you. reminding you that he’ll always be by your side.

“i’ve got you, ma. m’right here.”

“y-you promise you won’t leave?”

“never, baby. i love you.”

bf!chris who..

drops everything and runs over to you when you cry, not taking his eyes or arms off of you for a second.

“oh, my baby girl. c’mere..”

bf!chris who..

always texts you in the mornings, letting you know where he is at all times. and always keeps his location on.

chris ❤️:

hey beautiful

heading to some burger spot with matt & nick

call me when you can, i’ll be at yours at 3

bf!chris who..

is always so quick to reassure you when you’re having negative thoughts about absolutely anything.

“no, don’t ever say that fucking shit again, y’hear me?”

“wh—what?”

“you’re fucking beautiful and i’m yours, always.”

bf!chris who..

has any girl who isn’t a really-close friend blocked. who makes sure to delete any girl in his phone at your request, and doesn’t follow any unnecessary girls.

“who else, baby? this one? matter a fact—i’m blocking all of them.”

bf!chris who..

always shuts down any mentions about you not ‘deserving’ him, or breaking up.

“no, nope—we are not doing this.”

“we can work—we work, baby. you are mine, no matter what. end of the story. now c’mere.”

bf!chris who..

is constantly affectionate with you in public, making sure everyone knows that you’re his, and his only. he either has you in his lap, or has his arm around you while he makes out with you at parties & events.

bf!chris who..

kisses you in every place you feel insecure about, holding you in his arms as he reminds you constantly how beautiful you are.

“where else, baby? here?” he murmured as he placed open mouthed kisses on your face. “mine.” he added.

bf!chris who..

always cuddles with you when you guys go to sleep, holding you in either his arms, or he’s in yours. and never lets go, insisting he needs to have you close.

“mm.. no.. not moving..”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 NSFW

bf!chris who..

always makes sure to be constantly intimate with you, so he can remind you that he’s yours.

“c’mon, pretty. do y’feel it?”

“just for you…”

bf!chris who..

constantly praises you during sex. wanting you to know how good you’re doing for him

“oh—god—chris..”

“doin’ so good f’me, ma. so.. perfect.”

bf!chris who..

absolutely loves missionary, or any type of sex that involves you face to face with him. oh—and he loves when you ride him.

“y-yeah.. baby. ride me just like that. oh my god..”

“am—am i making you feel good?”

“so good, my love. g’na fill you up, yeah?”

bf!chris who..

hates it when you cover your face or muffle your moans with your hands. and is quick to remove them, wanting to see & hear you.

“no, ma. lemme see you. need to see how good m’making you feel..”

bf!chris who..

is perfect at aftercare, only for you. always taking his time with you, cuddling you & smothering you with kisses as he rubs your back.

“my beautiful baby.. you doin’ alright?”

“m-mhm.. just—tired..”

“get some rest, pretty. m’right here.”

💌 definitely making this a series, and my next blurb will be matt i promise 😭. if this is too short, lmk

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"The Last Temptation": One Megathread to Rule Them All - Clues and Speculation, PART 3

9) How will Sauron prove his love for Galadriel?

We are back, and we are cracking the code here, we are cooking, and I want to thank @justacynicalromantic; @pearlstomyeyes and @historical-romances9, for their ideas, and with whom I wholesome agree. And there's foreshadowing to back it up.

In both Part 1 and Part 2, we already discussed some crucial points leading to “The Last Temptation” scene: (1) Sauron in love with Galadriel, (2) Galadriel having conflicted feelings for him in return and (3) her seek him out alone at the finale, and how the director of the finale, Charlotte Brändström teased on “X-Ray Vision” podcast:

I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you see that at the very end. 

The season seems to be building towards: 

Against all warnings, Galadriel will seek out Sauron alone at the finale; 

She’s ready to sacrifice herself (based on the visions of Nenya in 2x04, my bet is that Galadriel knows she’ll die in her duel with Sauron, but will go to fight him anyway);

She’ll 100% want to destroy Sauron, and there is no doubt in her mind (especially after seeing first-hand what he did to Celebrimbor, in 2x07).

Sauron will somehow prove he really loves Galadriel (to both her, and the audience).

The question is: how?

As I’ve mentioned on Part 2 of this megathread, I don’t think visions alone are enough to put this point across, because Sauron will always look/sound manipulative by showing Galadriel visions of Halbrand/“what could have been”/or whatever.

He can show her all the same, but I don’t think that will be *the* proof that he truly loves her, and that everything they shared before (when she believed him to be “just Halbrand”) wasn’t a deception on his part. 

Morgoth’s iron crown isn’t only a means to lure Sauron out or to used as a mere "sword", as we’ve seen on the trailers. And, as I’ve discussed in Part 2, my bet is Galadriel will try to test Adar’s theory that Morgoth’s iron crown + Nenya can destroy Sauron for good.

From this “Behind the Scenes” teaser, we know that Galadriel will get Nenya back, and has it during her fight with Sauron in 2x08. 

I already talked about this being Galadriel’s plan in Part 2, but I will develop it here. With that being said, and as @justacynicalromantic so brilliantly observed, Morgoth’s iron crown is not a MacGuffin, but the Chekhov’s gun of the plot. The iron crown is a very powerful object, infused with Dark magic (maybe Blood Magic even) who has the power to destroy Sauron’s physical form, as we’ve seen in 2x01.  

Now, prepare for strangeness and to be mind-blown because Morgoth's Iron crown is fatally wounding someone at the finale (coming full circle). And there will be some healing involved, to save this character’s life. Now, this sounds out of “Star Wars” (and I'm not sure if I’m a huge fan of this myself), but stay with me.  

In 2x04, we already saw that Nenya has powerful healing properties, when Galadriel saves Camnir from a fatal Orc arrow wound, before heading to fight the Orcs alone, and allowing Elrond & co. to escape back to Lindon and warn Gil-galad the Orc legions are marching towards Eregion.  

(This screenshot looks terrible because I had to up the brightness otherwise, we wouldn’t see anything).

We have two possible scenarios here: 

Either Galadriel stabs Sauron with the iron crown, regrets it, and heals Sauron; 

Or Galadriel accidentally scratches/stabs herself or Sauron does, with Morgoth’s iron crown during the fight, and is dying, but she’s healed by Sauron (hence proving his love for her). 

My main problem with being Sauron getting stabbed in this scenario: (1) we already saw that happening; and (2) it wouldn’t prove to the audience and to Galadriel that he’s actually in love with her. And I do believe Galadriel’s mindset going into this fight will be to destroy Sauron, and so I don’t see her regretting stabbing him, nor leaving him for dead.

My bet: Galadriel is the one who gets fatally wounded by Morgoth's Iron Crown.

This season, there’s already been a female character dying of poisoning by an Orc arrow (R.I.P. Bronwyn). And as Arondir explains to the audience, in 2x03, Orc arrows have a foul substance the flesh doesn’t forget (couldn’t find the actual quote). So: can this be foreshadowing?  

With Orc arrows the poison is slower (Bronwyn didn’t die right away), but what of Morgoth’s very crown? The Dark magic on it it’s 10000 times stronger. Meaning, a mere scratch can be enough to be fatal, even to an Elf. So, I can definitely see this mirroring Frodo’s Morgul wound from the “Fellowship of the Ring”, leaving Galadriel at the brink of death. 

Now, will Nenya come into play in this scenario?

I think it can go both ways, really. Because Sauron is a powerful Dark sorcerer on his own and he’s a servant of Morgoth, so he doesn’t exactly need Nenya to save Galadriel’s life. But maybe he’ll have to use it? The magic on the crown can be so strong, that Nenya’s power might have to come to the rescue (meaning Nenya's healing powers in 2x04 are also foreshadowing to this scene).

This would make Galadriel “touch the darkness” for real, because with Frodo the wound from the Morgul-blade never fully healed throughout the years. So what will happen to Galadriel if she does get stabbed by Morgoth’s iron crown, and is healed by Sauron himself? Unless the power of Nenya acts as counterbalance to this.

Can Elrond’s choice come into play in this scenario, as well? 

If Elrond isn't forced to make this choice in 2x07, I think this scene will be it (especially since fans have already noticed "Elrond’s theme" on the "Last Temptation theme").

Elrond can witness Galadriel get wounded by Morgoth’s Iron Crown and falling down, and have to face the choice between saving her life or stopping Sauron (in the future), just like he promised her in 2x04. And, in this scenario, he would eventually choose to save the Elves, and leave Galadriel for dead.

Where do we go from here? 

As I’ve already speculated in Part 2, I think Galadriel’s true feelings for Sauron will either be: (1) explicit portraited or (2) highly implied in this scene, and that’s why Magda Walma aka “the Polish reviewer” believes that Celeborn won’t ever in “Rings of Power” (he will, but I’m betting no earlier than Season 4 or even Season 5, to help Galadriel heal from all of this).

In this scenario, I can only see two possible outcomes, really: 

Either Galadriel willingly goes with Sauron at the end; 

Sauron goes away by himself, and leaves Galadriel behind, unarmed and saved (further proving his love for her). 

Either way, and even if these theories aren’t true, I think it’s safe to say we can expect an insane and highly emotional scene between Sauron and Galadriel at the finale. I don’t believe for a second, she’ll outright resist him again. It’s not what the season has been building up towards.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Ooh for your drabble challenge:

125. “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?!”

Angsty!! -> 🙈 and with Nico Hischier. Please and thank you! 🩵

ooo of course I love writing some angst and I don't ever remember writing angst for Nico yet... I am truly sorry this took me an embarrassing amount of days to answer. 😔Also this turned out so much longer than I thought it would but I kind of like the background I gave the prompt.

Drabble Challenge. Drabble Masterlist.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep. Wait... are you... what?!"

Sharing a bed with Nico Hischier was not something you were planning on doing when you agreed to go on this weekend getaway with your best friend. But little did you know that everyone but you and Nico were the only two single people in the group. Of course they only room left in the house in your air bnb by the time you got there was a makeshift office with a small twin bed in the corner. So now here you were sharing a bed with Nico, who just so happened to be your friend's partner's best friend who also happened to your ex-boyfriend.

Once you both made it into the tiny office/spare bedroom, immediately the words left your mouth, "Uh I can sleep on the coach in living room downstairs." Already turning around with your hand still on your luggage as you start to turn around but Nico lightly grabs your arm to stop you.

"Stop, You're not sleeping down there Y/N that room is full of windows and the light will wake you up tomorrow morning or literally anyone going to the bathroom in the middle of the night." His voice soft, almost pleading for you not to leave him in this room by himself.

Sighing deeply, closing your eyes for a few seconds the exhaustion of traveling creeping in on you slowly, all you were craving was somewhere to sleep. "Fine." you grunt, taking a deep breath you continue. "I'll sleep on the floor in here."

After being with him, you can translate the curse words that leave his mouth in Swiss German. Something along the lines of 'goddamn me, bullshit.'

"So what's your idea then?" The irritation clear in your voice.

"I am not letting you sleep on the floor Y/N/N." His voice more defined from earlier, the stubbornness clear in his voice now. You can physically see him take a shaky breath as his voice cracks due to nerves as he suggests "We can share a bed?"

Finally making eye contact with him for the first time since entering the room, your face full of shock at his suggestion. But all you see starring back at you is his soft big brown eyes begging you to stay. "It's a twin Neeks." you whisper suddenly scared of making your voice any louder.

"I know. But were both tired and we don't have any other options. Can we just go to bed please." he begs lightly reaching for your hand and it was as if as soon as his hand lightly creased yours, you were back in time to six months ago before you both decided you needed space because neither of you had time due to your careers to be in a committed relationship. And in that moment, you felt your heart break a little and your pulse quicken. "Please baby." Nico begged the nickname rolling of his tongue so naturally, your not even sure if he heard it himself.

But in an attempt to protect yourself you find your arguing even though your voice was above a whisper as you close your eyes. "We have other options Nico. You just don't like them." Opening them again after a few seconds you meet his face again and you knew there was no other option, you were about to share a twin size bed with your 6'1 ex boyfriend Nico. "okay." you admit in defeat, you swear for a second you saw a smile on his lips as he slowly pulls you to the bed and climbs in first putting his back against the wall, laying on his side.

It wasn't an ideal situation, deciding it was best to let lay on your side facing away from Nico trying not to touch him despite having no space. Apparently Nico had different plans when you felt his arms circle around your waist pulling you so your back was flesh to his chest. He did it so fast, as i it was second nature, an instinct taking over. Nico was asleep in no time, he use to claim he always was with you in his arms, and you could tell he was asleep by the little breaths he was leaving on the back of your shoulder where his head was tucked down. Sadly for you, sleep didn't come as easily it was if your brain and your heart were having an internal battle on what was happening. Trying not to focus on how safe you felt being back in his arms because this was a one night thing, trying to remind yourself the reality of the situation.

Somewhere around 3 AM you fell asleep, but you didn't sleep long as you look at the clock and see it was just a little after 5 AM. Your not sure if it's from Nico's body heat or just the fact of sharing such a small bed. But you felt hot and sticky all of a sudden. Trying to carefully remove Nico's arms off of you so that you could attempt to get comfortable and all fall back asleep for a few more hours. But there was no hope when you felt Nico whine behind you due to the movement.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep." he whined pulling you closer and shifting back to both of your orginial sleeping position. In an insenence Nico felt it his entire body stiffened and opened his eyes in fear begging that you won't say anything about his morning wood but his fear was coming true when you asked.

"Wait." you said trying to decide if you felt his hard cock poking into your lower back or if you were making it up, but when you were sure you knew you were right you gulped and whispered. "Nico are you?" Slowly waiting a response you knew Nico was embarrassed, he let go of your arms and tried to turn his body to face towards the wall but wasn't as fast as you. Quickly you turned around in his arms lightly grabbing his forearm and lightly whispered his name again trying to meet his eyes. "Nico, look at me."

He paused in his movements in a few seconds he slowly looked down at you and asked "what?"

"It's okay baby, I miss you too." Not sure if your words would even make sense to anyone else but you knew Nico would understand. Breaking up was the hardest thing either of you ever had to do. "Nico I miss you with every fiber of my being and I think it's kind of hot that I gave you morning wood without even trying." you smirk at him. In an instant he closed the gap between you both into a messy kiss pulling you to lay on top of him. Neither of you knew what this meant but you knew one thing, whatever the next step was both of you were doing it together.

[flemingsgirl]

Bundle of joy

Her sweet wife's expecting and her teammates being just like family.

Viviane Miedema x freader

Tw: Mention of vomit and a swear..

Wrapped in your coat only your eyes and scrunched nose looking out you sat behind the bench of her team; Viv organized you a bandage for the seat. When the team walks back to the locker room Katie and some other wave at you and as Vivianne makes her way past you she stops at the railing. “Look at you all freezing up, just wearing gloves, what are you hoping for,” you laughed and she rolls her eyes. Her hand reaching for yours intertwining them, “You okay?” She knitted her brows. “you’re quite passive just some jogs.”

“Yeah, yeah, someone kicked me against my shine.”

“Nasty.”

“You can say that loud. Are you alright?” her eyes wandering from yours down to your abdomen.

“I’m fine, we’re fine” her lips curl up and her dimple visualizes on her cheek. “You’re rocking it Anna,” you squeeze her hand, the goner laughed, and you showed how you have her finger crossed, she gives you another radiant smile before disappearing into the dugout.

When the game ends her eyes search for you on your designed seat. “You good Miedema?” her thick accent filling the air.

“Yeah just looking..”

“For Y/N? I think she left ten minutes ago.” The woman takes off as the words left katies mouth.

Banging on the several doors in the restroom she hears heavy breathing behind the last one. “Schatje,” she raises her hand and knocks hesitantly on the door, “can you let me in?”

“It’s open,” you mumble, and she slowly pushes the door open. “It hit out of the blue, couldn’t even watch the end.”

Her hand rubs over your back, her other holding your hair back, “it’s alright, it wasn’t even important.”

“Every game is important for me, seemingly not for her.” Your head rests in your hand as you take deep breaths in.

“She cannot quite understand it,” Viv lets out a chuckle and takes your cheek in her hand.

“Don’t, I stink.”

“So, do I.”

“You don’t wanna kiss me with all the vomit.”

“I’d always kiss you but if you don’t feel like it it’s okay.” She rises to her feet holding out a hand for you, “you wanna come into the changing room and wait for me?”

“I don’t know I’m not sure if the nausea is gone,” you take her hand, and she helps you on your feet.

“Good, small steps, okay? So how are we?” leading you out of the stall and towards the sinks, getting some water in her hands she attaches it to your skin, a prickling feeling runs through your body. “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m just standing.”

“Yeah, and that’s enough,” she places her hands on your tummy which is hid in your coat. “We’re almost done, only a few weeks.” She pecks your cheek, then the other and at last your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, my love,” you bring your arms around your neck and snuggle into the crock of her neck, the sweaty smell almost calming you. “I’m ready let’s get this done.”

She guides you into the changing room where you’re meet with cheers and shouting from her mates, Beth almost jumping you to the ground, Viv could catch the two of you before worse could happen. “I can’t believe only a few weeks,” she squeaks still jumping up and down. Two strong arms sling around your body as Katie pulls you into her embrace “Can’t leave before aunty Katie said hello,” she lowers her head to the bump, “Yo hello bud in there, it’s your favourite don’t upset your mommies they’re doing their best and beyond. Can’t wait until you’re here.”

“Oh, girls you’re so sweet,” tears built up in your eyes and your bottom lip trembles they’re taking the cue and hold you in their embrace until Vivianne is ready to go home. “Okay guys see you tomorrow,” she waves for them, and you both step out.

The first days back home with your little bundle of joy was everything besides joy, screaming, crying, vomiting, pooping, people who say it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy should rod in hell. Hectic that was your new normal. Don’t get this wrong the birth of your baby girl was next to your wedding day the best day in your life, Heleen is a sweet girl and looks just like her mom but then she got this cold in the first days being home, she gets fuzzy and screams almost the whole day, neither of you could keep an eye shut, your hearts breaking at her being sick.

After this bumpy start the three of you fell perfect into the family routine and life. The only thing that was a topic that you discussed with your wife was football. She paused training with the girls the first month of Heleen’s life, she needed to get back on the pitch, stay in form, train for her to be part of the squad but that wasn’t as important to her than her family.

“Viv, it’s been a month you can’t stay home and workout here.”

“Why so?

“We don’t have the capacitate nor the girls to push you. You miss them. I know,” you caresses her cheek as you step closer to her in the rocking chair. “They need you. We got this; you still have half of the day with us my love.”

“But what if I don’t want to leave you?”

“I don’t want it either but there are some things we can’t change. We’ll come around as much as we can,” you peck her cheek and rest your head on hers as your hands hold her face. “You’re not a bad person, it’s your job.”

Marking her tenth month she was the first time in the stadium with you, the noise cancelling headphones on her head as she cradles in your arm eyes sparkling as she observes her surroundings. “Quite lovely innit Hel?” you kiss her occipital. “Look there’s mommy,” you point towards your wife who walks behind Beth onto the pitch, she squeaks and jumps in your lap. Heleen fell asleep around the twentieth minutes.

Viv scored twice that day and sent you a heart each time. Your daughter wakes before them and sees them as well, so you think cause she somewhat claps her small hands together, making you giggle. When the games ends you moved closer to the pitch with your daughter tight pressed into your body.

“Look who’s there,” you turn her in your grip, “your favourite aunty.” Katie sees you and runs over to you almost crashing into some other player.

“Look at you, all proud of aunty to win,” she raises her hands towards you, and you hand your daughter to the other woman.

“But careful Katie,” one brow raised, and your pointing finger dared on her.

“You know me.”

“Yeah, the biggest argument.”

“Let’s get you to your mommy,” she coos and walks over to Viv who was wrapped in a conversation with Beth and Caitlin.

“Oh, who’s there!”

“Our biggest fan!”

“Hartendief,” Viv tickles her side, and she wiggles in Katie’s grip and then she takes her off her aunties arm and into her body. “I scored for you have you seen that?” she whispers into her little ear, “I’m very happy you’re here.” She pecks her forehead and joins the conversation again, a smile plastered on her lips.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

✧·˚swimming lessons from isaac can be a bit chaotic

“you have to trust me if you’re going to actually do this.” isaac smirks as he stands waist deep in the pool water, holding an outstretched hand to you as you cling to the safety railing on the steps.

“i do trust you, i just don’t trust the water.” you squeeze your eyes shut as you take another step deeper into the water, still white knuckling the railing.

isaac can’t help but bite back a smile at your cautious form, you just looked too cute.

“i wouldn’t let anything happen to you while you’re in the water okay? please just take my hand.”

you hesitantly take his hand and he pulls you into him, your grip on the railing gone and now you grip isaac tightly due to the sudden shock of it.

“you hate me.”

he chuckles and gently removes your arms from his waist and holds your hands in front of him.

“i do not hate you. you ready to try swimming?”

“not really—”

“perfect! let’s see what we’re working with first.”

“no.”

“what do you mean no?”

“i am not embarrassing myself like that.” isaac sighs.

“i won’t be able to see if you need my help if you don’t show me.”

“okay okay fine i’m sorry i’m just nervous.” you dip your hands in the water to try and get use to the temperature.

“why are you nervous? it’s just me here.” isaac looks around the empty room to emphasize his point and then back at you.

“that’s the problem, i just get really nervous cause you’re so handsome.” you smirk and watch as a blush creeps it’s way across isaac’s face.

“just start swimming.”

you sigh as you start swimming very ungracefully in the water and isaac has to hold back a chuckle.

“i could drown and you’re laughing!”

“you are not going to drown, i am right here.” he swims over to be closer to you and you back up on instinct.

“you know, you’re pretty cute when you flail around in the water.”

“i feel stupid.” you say as you paddle your way to the shallow end.

isaac lets out a laugh as he reaches out to take your hand and easily pull you to him. the action makes you smile at how fun it is to be pull across the water so easily.

“where’d that smile come from? you like being pulled through the water or something?”

your face goes flush at the realization of the fact that you’ve made it very obvious that you enjoyed getting pulled around, unfortunately for you isaac immediately picks up on it.

“aw baby, you want me to pull you around in the water?”

you can’t help but feel embarrassed for some reason, feeling a bit childish you cover your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“hey hey no hiding i think it’s cute, here.”

isaac quickly gets out of the pool and returns just as fast with two pairs of goggles in hand and holds one out for you to take, which you do with a confused looked.

“what are theses for?” you look at the goggles then isaac, who already has them on and you can’t help but crack a smile at how he looks a bit silly. “are we gonna play mermaids? cause i don’t think i’m experienced enough for that yet.”

“what? no.” isaac takes the goggles from your hands and gently puts them on for you. your smile only grows bigger at the thought of you looking just as silly as him.

“alright now hop on.” he turns his back to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck which you do hesitantly. “ready?”

“for what?”

before you know it isaac goes under the water and you instinctively close your protected eyes as he swims to the deeper end of the pool with you clinging to him. it’s not till he taps your thigh gently that you open your eyes and realize how cool it looks under the water.

when you reach the surface isaac makes sure to keep you secure to his back since you’ve never been this deep before, but to his surprise you push off him gently to go under the water again. isaac of course follows watching how you enjoy yourself in the water.

you imagine this is what flying feels like, it’s so healing you can’t believe you haven’t done this before.

this is dumb i am so sorry, it’s hard to describe swimming for the first time since i’ve swam my whole life. i apologize and will try better next time.

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[goldenroutledge]

never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. if he really leaves for good, the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

-

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

-

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

-

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated. stay strong dr3 nation 💌

[meazalykov]

the forest

salma paralluelo x orienteer!reader (request)

summary: your girlfriend tries to understand the sport you participate in

salma is a bit confused when you first invite her to watch one of your orienteering competitions live. 

she’s seen a few races on tv, but never in person, and you can tell by the way she fidgets with her hands that she’s nervous, even if she won’t admit it.

“are you sure you are not just going to get lost in the woods?” she jokes when you’re explaining how it works, but there’s a hint of genuine concern in her voice.

“i will be fine,” you laugh, kissing her before heading to the starting area. 

“i’ll see you after i win, okay?”

she watches you run off with the rest of the competitors, map and compass in hand, disappearing into the forest within seconds. and for the first time, salma realizes she has no idea what’s actually happening. 

she looks around at the other spectators, all of them more prepared than her with binoculars, and GPS trackers to follow the competitors’ progress.

“what am i even supposed to be looking at?” she mumbles to herself, squinting at the forest.

in her mind, she wished that she brought esmee or alexia with her– just for some company.

“you’re here for y/n, right?”

salma turns to see a girl standing next to her, probably in her late teens, sporting a y/n fan t-shirt. her eyes are wide and excited, and salma smiles awkwardly, hoping this girl can help.

“yeah… how’d you know?”

“well, you looked super confused. that’s usually how people are when they come to watch y/n for the first time,” the girl says, a laugh bubbling up. 

“i’m natalie, by the way. big fan of hers.”

salma’s relieved that someone knows what’s going on. 

“i’m salma. nice to meet you. so, um, can you explain what i’m supposed to be watching?”

natalie grins. “okay, so it’s orienteering, right? everyone gets a map with specific points they need to reach in a set order. those points are marked by little orange and white flags hidden in the forest. the goal is to navigate to each flag as fast as possible using just the map and a compass. no GPS or shortcuts. once they find the flag, there’s a sensor that registers their time.”

salma raises her eyebrows. “so, they’re just… running around trying to find these flags?”

“pretty much,” natalie says, shrugging. 

“but it’s way more technical than it looks. like, you have to be good at reading the map while running, keeping track of where you are, and planning the best routes to each point. that’s what makes y/n so good—she’s super fast and she barely ever makes mistakes with her navigation.”

“that sounds intense.” salma glances toward the dense trees where you disappeared, her respect for you growing with every word natalie says.

salma and you met outside of both of your sports. in fact, it was a mutual friend who set you both up at a party. 

when she found out that you did a sport too, she was happy to get familiar with it. even if it sounded confusing. 

“yeah, it’s mental,” natalie agrees, nodding. “and y/n’s one of the best. she’s won a ton of races.”

salma smiles softly, feeling proud. “i know. i’ve watched her a few times on tv, but this is my first time seeing it live.”

“oh, really? well, you’re in for a treat. she’s amazing to watch in person. plus, if she’s in the best mood, she’ll be back here at the finish in no time.”

salma watches as competitors start emerging from the forest, some sprinting toward the finish line, others clearly frustrated, taking longer routes back. 

every now and then, a beep goes off as they punch in at the last control point near the finish.

natalie’s eyes light up suddenly. “look! there she is!”

salma’s heart skips a beat as she spots you darting out from between the trees, sweat running down your face but a determined expression set in your features. 

you’re one of the fastest runners out there, navigating the final stretch like it’s second nature.

“she’s flying,” salma mutters in awe, watching as you punch your last point and sprint toward the finish line. 

within seconds, you cross it, panting and grinning widely.

natalie claps excitedly. “she did it! i think she might’ve won!”

salma’s too busy watching you catch your breath to hear the announcer confirm it, but when you glance her way, she waves excitedly, a proud smile taking over her face. 

you give her a tired thumbs-up before turning to cool down with your teammates.

“wow,” salma breathes, still trying to process the speed and skill you just showed. “that was insane.”

natalie grins at her. 

“told you she’s amazing.”

salma chuckles. 

“you really know a lot about this sport.”

“yeah, been following orienteering since i was a kid. and y/n’s one of my favorites.” 

natalie shuffles her feet, a little shy all of a sudden. 

“she’s, uh, actually the reason i started orienteering.”

“really?” salma’s eyes soften, touched by the girl’s enthusiasm. “you want to meet her?”

natalie’s jaw drops. “wait, are you serious?”

“of course! it’s the least i can do after you explained everything to me,” salma says, already walking toward you. 

natalie hesitates for a moment, then quickly follows.

you’re still cooling off when you see salma and a nervous-looking girl approaching. you smile, wiping your face with a towel.

“hey, you,” salma greets you, pulling you into a quick hug. “you were amazing out there.”

“thanks,” you mumble, catching your breath. your eyes shift to natalie, who’s staring at you in awe. 

“who’s your friend?”

“this is natalie. she’s a huge fan of yours and explained the whole race to me. i thought i’d bring her over to meet you.” salma grins, gesturing to natalie. 

natalie’s cheeks flush red as she stammers, “i-it’s such an honor to meet you, y/n. i’ve been following your career for years. you’re… you’re incredible.”

“thank you, natalie. that means a lot. and thanks for helping salma out—she probably would’ve been totally lost without you.” you chuckle softly, reaching out to pull the girl into a hug. 

“definitely,” salma adds, laughing. 

“i was ready to run into the forest myself and find out what was going on.”

natalie laughs too, the tension easing as she relaxes around you. 

“seriously, though, you were amazing today. i think you won.”

“we’ll find out soon enough, but i’m glad you got to see it live. there’s something special about being here, right?” you nod, smiling at her enthusiasm. 

“definitely,” natalie agrees, her smile wide. “and i’ll be cheering for you at every race i can.”

“same here. even if i don’t fully get it yet, i’ll always be here when i don’t have my own games.” salma wraps an arm around your waist, squeezing gently. 

you laugh softly, looking between salma and natalie.

“you two are the best.”

to whoever requested, I hope you liked this!! I tried my best to do some research before writing :D

[tgmsunmontue]

You found me - one-shot (complete)

13k Explicit Hangster AU - Soulmates first words are on your skin. Started for the Bingo. Jake is a singer and Bradley is the newly arrived member of his security detail. Tooth-rotting FLUFF and SMUT.

YOU FOUND ME

                Why can you not stay where we fucking tell you to?

                Jake hadn’t ever intended to make music his career. His sister definitely had, and he’d just been dragged along to drive her around, and because he was already there he’d often help out with either singing or playing one of the instruments. They’d both grown up surrounded by music, and now she’s his most fiercely-loyal supporter, but also never lets him forget that he’d never be where he is if it hadn’t been for her. He loves it most of the time, but the touring starts to drag, although meeting fans around the world and getting to travel is amazing. He just gets homesick sometimes.

                Also the fame is double-edged. He’s glad his words are where they are, a small cramped script right in the curve of his inner left thigh right beside his groin. Almost impossible for anyone to see or get a photo of, even when he’s done nude photo shoots. Of course, it had started the rumors that he’s mark-less, which is a rumor he’s okay with being out there. It stops the people trying to match with him at least, but it doesn’t stop the people who simply want to try and be with him because of the fame.

                However his words are pretty damned specific; he’s had a variation of them said to him a number of times over the years, which always makes him give a double take. Always false alarms though. Kind of embarrassing when he thinks about the potential meaning behind them, like he’s a child being scolded for wandering off. Like right now. The concert is over, he’s done the glad-handing with the fans that had the money to burn to buy VIP backstage passes, has had too many photos taken, his cheeks hurt from smiling the fake media smile too much. He’s tired and lonely and he just wants to sleep for days. Three more concerts to go and then he gets to go home.

                The crunch of gravel underfoot has him turning his head and he lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes. Caught again. Not by fans or anyone dangerous, but definitely someone who isn’t pleased to find him out here alone. It’s the new guy. He can’t remember his name, other than it starting with a b, because he’d automatically gone with the alliteration with bodyguard. So B-something. He should really try and pay more attention, but the guy had been brought in late, in the last Australasian stretch of the tour because Javy’s dad had had a heart-attack and had needed to get home ASAP. So this guy had been brought in and the introductions had happened during sound testing a couple of days ago and Jake doesn’t think the guy likes him very much, doesn’t think they’ve exchanged a single word to each other.

                However Jake thinks B-something might feel about him, he’s sure he’s a professional. He certainly looks the part, fucking built, taller than Jake by only an inch, but broader, and fridge-like comes to mind, his pants clearly straining against the thick muscles in his thighs as he stalks toward Jake, clearly angry and he sighs internally, an apology already forming on his lips, because he doesn’t like to make other’s jobs more difficult. He doesn’t intentionally wander off, but sometimes he just really misses the peace and quiet of wide-open spaces.

                “Ugh, yeah, you found me,” Jake mutters, the words slipping out and he’s aware it makes him sound like a petulant spoiled kid but he can work on his image later. Maybe when he’s not surviving on adrenaline and caffeine, dead on his feet. He is ready for this tour to be over.

                “Why can you not stay where we fucking tell you to?”

                “I’m sorry, wait, shit, what did you say?”

                B-something is looking at him in shock, eyes and mouth all wide circles and okay, that makes all the tiredness he’s been feeling turn to fizzing energy in his veins. Holy shit. He just found his soul mate.

                “You… you said my words.”

                “And you said mine. If that wasn’t already obvious.”

                “You really need to not wander off, I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know where you are,” B-something says, his tone softer, gentler and Jake laughs silently; privately thinks his days wandering off are now gone, not with a soul mate to get to know. However he’s going to have to admit he doesn’t remember his name. Ugh. What a way to seem even more like an asshole.

                “I’m sorry, I know we were introduced only a couple of days ago, but I don’t remember your name…”

                “Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Bs… lots of bs, that did stick in my head. The alliteration.”

                “Some of my friends call me Bradbrad.”

                “Well, I’m Jake. Uh. Call me Jake.”

                “Not Mr Seresin?”

                “No!” Jake responds instantly, vehement.

                “So, what do you think we’re working with here?” Bradley asks, and it’s going to take Jake a while to get used to using his name. His mind is offering up potentially ridiculous lines Bradley Bradshaw the bodyguard built of beautiful bricks I want to lick. God he definitely needs some sleep. And proper food. Not necessarily in that order.

                “Huh?”

                “What kind of bond do you think we’re working with?”

                “Oh. Uh,” he swallows roughly, because he’s an out and proud not-straight man, and soulmates generally get a free pass anyway. Except… “Hopefully not platonic,” Jake provides, and the slow smile Bradley gives him makes his skin prickle and he’s suddenly feeling a lot more awake.

                “Okay. Well I guess we’re going to go one a few dates and see where they take us…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, it’s a potential. Not a guarantee right? Only fifty percent chance it’s romantic.”

                “You want to date me?”

                “How else am I going to get to know you?” Jake opens and closes his mouth, because he has a good point, instead just nods his head. “Come on. Let me get you back to the hotel.”

…            …            …

                Bradley hadn’t known what to expect when he’d been asked to urgently take over the security detail for Jake Seresin. Finding his soulmate had not been anywhere near the list of things to expect. The very tired man who is half-walking, half-stumbling as if drunk is somehow meant to complete him in ways he doesn’t know yet, and okay, Bradley’s open to the possibilities. First though, the guy needs sleep. And maybe food.

                He sends a quick message through to the other two, Rueben and Lee, lets them know he’s found him and taking him back to the hotel room. That some room service wouldn’t go amiss, although he fully expects Seresin’s, no, Jake’s PR manager Natasha to be there waiting for them, no doubt ready to rip him a new one. That woman is terrifying. He pushes open the door and sure enough she’s there, pausing in her pacing and she turns to them.

                “Jesus Jake! What were you –”

                “He’s hungry and tired and he won’t go wandering off again. At least not without me.”

                “Well great, that’s another six days. Perfect,” Natasha says, her eyes rolling so hard Bradley’s surprised they stay in her head.

                “It’ll be the last time. Promise…” Jake says, but he’s swaying and Bradley pushes him down into a chair at a table, leaves a hand on his shoulder where he just rubs gently.

                “I’ve heard that before,” Natasha says.

                “I mean it this time Nat,” Jake mumbles and Bradley glances at his. Probably another ten to fifteen before food gets here, and he needs to keep Jake awake enough to get food into him.

                “You think you can stay awake long enough to have a quick shower?” Bradley asks, crouching beside him.

                Natasha is frowning at them and Bradley looks to her, eyebrows raised. He’s going to have to tell everyone else in the team that he and Jake are soulmates, but he also thinks it can maybe wait a couple of days. At least until after he and Jake have had a proper conversation, which necessitates Jake being well-rested and fed. And the sweat from tonight’s show rinsed from his body. He can take care of his most basic needs at least. It’s not what he signed up for when he took on the job to act as bodyguard, but it’s definitely something he’d do for a close friend, and that’s something Jake Seresin will become to him, at a bare minimum.

                Jake is nodding and mumbling under his breath that he can manage a shower, and Bradley holds back the offer to help, or hold him up. He’s not one to rush into things when people aren’t his soulmate, he’s not about to do anything rash with the man who is. He does start the shower and get everything gathered for Jake to change into, tells him he’s leaving the door cracked and that he’s only giving him ten minutes before he sends Natasha in to get him out.

                “That seems a little over and above the job requirements,” Natasha says, expression shrewd and Bradley just shakes his head, refusing to say anything. If necessary he’ll send Rueben in, doesn’t want to encroach on Jake’s space and mind any more than he already is with their soulmate revelation.

                “He really needs a decent night’s sleep and a break.”

                “Well, we have a ten o’clock flight to Wellington tomorrow morning. He has his third to last show there. He’s got three radio segments to do, but they’re short. He can do something touristy and have a break in the afternoon.”

                “He’ll probably need to nap in the afternoon. He’s dead on his feet.”

                “He has the following day and night off, then the last two concerts in Auckland.”

                Bradley is better at hiding his eyeroll than Natasha is, sounds like a whole day off Is a luxury. Screw that. Not much he can do about it now though, he’s not been in charge of this itinerary at all. He might get input in future ones though.

                “Where is he spending his day off?”

                “Well, he originally wanted to go mountain biking and zip lining, but Javy vetoed it.”

                Bradley snorts, because he’s well aware of what Javy thinks of heights. The mountain biking is maybe a little risky while on tour, but he’ll look through it. With Lee and Rueben onboard he’s certain they can manage to figure something out. He hears the shower shut off and glances at his watch again. Eight minutes. There’s a knock and Bradley goes to go and open the door; Rueben there with a bag of items but also a covered tray and he can smell something warm and cheesy and with garlic and his own mouth is watering and he meets Rueben’s eyes.

                “Perks of being the star I guess…” Rueben says, grinning and Bradley gives him a what are you going to do look back, because this is their job right now. His job is to keep Jake safe and secure. It’s not to ensure he has fun on his day-off, but…

                “You’re good with zip-lining and mountain biking, right?”

                Rueben’s eyes light up, and that’s his answer right there.

                “Yeah man! Javy vetoed it…”

                “Javy’s not here anymore. I am. We’ll discuss and make plans tomorrow.”

                “Cool.”

                He takes the bag and tray, snorts in amusement at Rueben’s little salute and waits for the door to click closed and lock to engage before turning back to see Jake standing there, towel wrapped around his hips and he’s glad Jake has already said that he doesn’t think it’s a platonic bond, makes him feel a little less guilty about where his mind is going.

                “I left you clothes to change into,” Bradley states and Jake smirks at him, clearly still tired, expression soft but clearly unapologetic.

                “Did you? I must have missed them.”

                “Go and get dressed Jake.”

                “You spoil all my fun…”

                Bradley rolls his eyes but Jake goes back into the bathroom to get dressed. Natasha is looking thunderous though and Bradley is pretty sure she’s about to metaphorically put his balls in a vice.

                “Do not fuck the talent Bradshaw,” she hisses, stepping close and lowering her voice.

                “I don’t intend to,” Bradley states, just as quietly, keeping an eye on the bathroom door. He’s not lying either. He’s here for work, and yes, Jake is his soul mate, but once the tour is over and Jake is back on American soil his usual security team will take over and Bradley can just… do whatever he wants. Won’t have to listen to Natasha Trace for a start. He and Jake can hopefully get to know each other properly, slowly. As soulmates, not as security detail and the talent to be protected. Not that Bradley’s not going to start treating Jake right from now, but Trace doesn’t need to know that until after he’s spoken with Jake. Knows how he wants to have this play out.

                Jake comes back on of the bathroom again, this time wearing the loose sweatpants and t-shirt Bradley had pulled from his bag, not really knowing if it was what Jake might want or not, but figured he could change into something else easily enough if he was already dressed.

                “It smells good.”

                “Yeah it does. Come on Jake, sit down so you can eat something…” Bradley says, and Jake settles back at the table, looking a little more alert now that he’s had a shower.

                “Mr Seresin,” Trace corrects and Bradley rolls his eyes, although he also makes sure she can’t see him.

                “I told him to call me Jake, Nat. Would be a bit weird otherwise.”

                “He arrived two days ago.”

                “And he’s my soulmate. So you can stop worrying. I’m tired. Not deaf,” he says, and he’s cutting the potato dish and forking it into his mouth. Bradley blinks. Okay then. Telling her now when Jake can barely walk in a straight line is apparently the timing they’re going with.

                “Are… Is he serious? Are you two…?”

                “Yeah. Bit of a surprise when I found him. Wasn’t exactly expecting it.”

                “What are your words?”

                “This isn’t a PR story Nat…”

                “No, of course not. Just… I’m happy for you Jake. Truly.”

                “My words are Ugh, yeah, you found me.”

                “Oh… that… did you not talk to each other when I introduced you to each other?”

                “Nope,” they reply at the same time and Bradley shares a grin with Jake, because he’s glad they didn’t, because otherwise their words would be very different. What they have is unique and there isn’t any room for doubt.

                “So, we’ve found the person who asks you why you can’t do what we ask. And it’s his job to make sure you do. I hope you appreciate the poetry of that Jake.”

                “Yeah yeah, I will. When I’m not about to fall asleep in my food…”

                “Okay. I’ll leave you both to it. I guess what I said earlier doesn’t exactly apply anymore.”

                Bradley shakes his head.

                “He’s tired and hungry and we have our whole lives ahead of us.”

                The smile Trace gives him is soft and Bradley is pretty sure he might be blushing and when he glances over at Jake he sees a similar look on his face, like Bradley is being sweet somehow simply be ensuring Jake’s basic needs are met. It does make him wonder about the kind of people Jake’s been with before if the bar is legitimately that low. Trace leaves, closing the door behind her and when he looks back Jake is definitely struggling to keep his eyes open, and he pulls him to his feet and starts shuffling him gently toward the bed. He pulls the blankets back and Jake pretty much falls into it. He tucks the blankets in around him, effectively making a cocoon around him, but Jake wiggles, arm reaching out and hand making a grabby motion.

                “What? What do you need?”

                “Join me?” Jake asks, but his voice is already slurring with sleep and Bradley can’t believe how fond of him he already feels.

                “You’re dead on your feet. Go to sleep.”

                “Oh. Uh… do you, could you…”

                “Go to sleep Jake. I’m not going anywhere.”

                He dims all the lights and heads back to the living room part of the suite, realizes that he’s probably going to get used to this type of luxury with Jake as his soulmate. That will take some getting used to. He tidies up the dishes and takes it to the door, opens it to find Rueben standing there, waiting. With Jake having told Trace he’s going to tell Rueben.

                “Hey man, you can head back to your room. I’m going to stay with him.”

                The look Rueben gives him is incredulous.

                “What the fuck man? I just lost twenty bucks. Natasha said you were going to do that.”

                “She played you, and had insider knowledge. Turns out Jake Seresin and I are soul mates. I’ve got him for the rest of the night.”

                “Holy shit… that’s cool. And you’ve got him for the rest of your life, tonight is a drop in the bucket.”

                “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m going to try and make sure he gets a fun day off after the show in Wellington. Can you help with that?”

                “Hell yeah. Just because Javy wasn’t keen doesn’t mean I was going to pass it up. I was ditching you and Lee for the day, but I can totally bring everything back together.”

                “Great. Thanks man.”

…            …            …

                He wakes up slowly, which is unusual by itself, usually he has an alarm or Natasha is shaking him awake and telling him he has to get up, while pushing a breakfast smoothie into his hands. None of that is happening this morning, instead he’s firmly wrapped in blankets and there is an arm around him, he can feel now the weight of Bradley’s body beside him, but he’s clearly slept on top of the blankets because he’s a fucking gentleman or something. He wiggles and shifts, wants to see his face and the arm around him loosens.

                “Morning…”

                “Morning.”

                “You stayed.”

                “Said I would,” Bradley says, and his smile is slow, his eyes searching Jake’s face like he’s trying to take in every little detail. “You feel better for the sleep?”

                “Yeah, so much better.”

                “Mmm. Good. Next time maybe just go straight to bed rather than running off hmm?”

                “You going to stick around and make sure?”

                “If that’s what it takes…”

                “Yeah? Just going to travel with me from now on?”

                “Think it’ll make everyone’s lives easier if I do.”

                Jake grins, huffs out a quiet laugh, but he’s not wrong.

…            …            …

                “So, can I know where my words are?” Bradley asks, because he has to admit he’s curious. Jake is his soulmate after all.

                “You want to see them?”

                “I don’t know… you’re looking very eager suddenly. Wait. Are they on your dick?”

                Jake bursts into laughter, his smile wide and free and he’s so fucking gorgeous Bradley can’t help but watch and just soak it in.

                “Close. Not quite though. They’re right on the inside crease of my thigh, against my dick and balls.”

                “I’ll have to save having a look for later then.”

                “Yeah? You don’t want to have a look now?”

                “I’m good with waiting. Always find the payoff is better with a little anticipation.”

                “We’re soulmates, meant to be good anyway.”

                “So we get a double whammy.”

                “Ugh. Fine,” Jake mutters, mouth screwing up into a displeased pout and Bradley wants to kiss it so badly, but…

                “At least let me take you on a date first.”

                “But I don’t have free time until we get home…” Jake says, and he’s definitely whining now and Bradley knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a brat, but he can’t help but find it cute and endearing and yeah, it’s definitely shaping into something that is decidedly not platonic in nature.

                “How about you let me worry about that.”

                “Oh. Really?”

                “Yeah. Really.”

                Then he bullies Jake out of bed and into another shower, flicking a couple of messages to both Natasha and Rueben to let them know Jake is awake and moving. He needs to go and shower and change as well, and everything is back in the room he’s sharing with Rueben. Which Rueben will no doubt suddenly enjoy having to himself seeing as he doesn’t imagine either he nor Jake will want to spend much time apart.

                By the time Jake is out of the shower there is food waiting, Natasha is packing his things and Rueben has turned up with Bradley’s own things. He pushes Jake toward the food and steps toward the bathroom with his bag and sees the realization hit Jake that he’s not even leaving his room to go and have a shower. The relief and joy and yeah, there’s definitely something to be said for making your soulmate look like that.

…            …            …

                For all the fact that he’s at the tail end of a world tour, he’s exhausted and he has a bone-deep ache for the comfort of his own bed it feels weirdly domestic in the hotel room when Bradley comes out of the shower looking all put together in a clean clothes; navy pants and light-blue button down, the staid uniform that every single member of his security detail wear and he doesn’t like the reminder that right now Bradley is effectively one of his employees.

                “Just a few more days…” Bradley says, giving him a quick side-hug and Jake has to bite his lip, because clearly Bradley could tell what he was thinking, and he’s not used to being so easy to read. It’s going to take some getting used to.

                The flight to Wellington is short, but the landing is not something he ever wants to relive. The wind makes the plane tilt wildly from side to side and when Jake looks out the window he can’t even see a runway, which is a little alarming considering he can see the white tips of the waves of the ocean below them. Then he’s being rushed off to do some radio segments and the crew are leaving to set up and Bradley is just close-by, always within touching distance, although his eyes are constantly moving and assessing for threats. Rueben is doing the same, but he’s also on the phone a bit and then checking something with Bradley and he’s watching them through the glass of the studio window, distracted when the radio-host asks the next question.

                It’s why he fucks up.

…            …            …

                Natasha is furious.

                He didn’t ever think he’d have to protect Jake from his own people, but he stands there, arms folded and watches as she rants about controlling the narrative and making sure Jake’s private life remains private, because blurting it out on radio that he’d found his soul mate in New Zealand wasn’t keeping it very private. He doesn’t think Jake has any regrets other than making Natasha’s job more difficult, and maybe his job.

                A popstar doing a tour isn’t newsworthy. However said famous popstar finding their soulmate in some far-flung part of the world is definitely more newsworthy and Natasha’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing. However, for Bradley, New Zealand is considered low-threat, and Jake has three concerts left and no-one bar Natasha, Rueben, Lee and himself know exactly what Jake’s plans are for his time off. Even Jake doesn’t know, which is maybe just as well given his sudden propensity to simply blurt things out.

…            …            …

                Once she’s finished yelling at him she tells him to get some rest and he looks to Bradley helplessly. Lee is slapping Bradley on the arm and following Natasha out of the hotel room.

                “I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

                “Jake. I don’t mind. You’re the one in the spotlight. You get to decide what you share.”

                “Except I didn’t mean to share it, I was just… watching you and not paying attention to the question and it was something about my favorite part of being here in New Zealand, or the highlight of the tour…”

                “And you were looking at me,” Bradley says, and he’s smirking.

                “Yeah well… you’re nice to look at. Shut up.”

                “Not too shabby yourself.”

                “Don’t’ feel very hot right now. Nap with me?”

                “Yeah. Just let me check in with Rueben, then yeah, nap sounds good.”

…            …            …

                He doesn’t know which version of Jake he likes the most. Soft just-awake Jake with creases on his face from the pillow case, slightly pissy Jake when Bradley won’t do anything more than hold his hand or place a chaste kiss to his cheek or forehead, or right now, watching Jake perform on stage, his energy and showmanship getting the audience completely buzzing and singing along. He puts absolutely everything into his show and it’s no wonder he crashes so abruptly afterwards, coming down from the high. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to help with that, eventually. Once he’s off Jake’s books as an employee. God, he’s really going to have to rethink his whole career if he means to follow Jake rather than taking security details for different people around the world. He knows what he wants though, and he hasn’t even kissed Jake properly yet, but that is not because he doesn’t want to.

                Jakes goes out for two encores, meets with some of the fans who won a competition and carefully deflects questions about his soulmate. Says he’s protecting their privacy. Then he signs things for nearly an hour; Bradley just stands off to the side and keeps a close eye on everyone. Rueben and Lee are also there because it’s meant to be his night off. He takes the bottle of water Natasha hands him and makes Jake drink it, then hands him a protein bar, raises an eyebrow when Jake pulls a face but he dutifully opens it and crunches down on it while scowling at him. Bradley just smiles and brushes a kiss against his cheek while it’s still busy chewing.

                “Holy shit. I just realized our jobs are like, a hundred times easier now…” Rueben says and Bradley looks up to find him watching Jake and him.

                “Mine too,” Natasha agrees and Bradley smiles, pulls Jake into his arms despite how sweaty he is, hooks his chin over his shoulder.

                “Mmm. Well, we’ve still got a schedule to stick to.”

                “Wait, what? Are we not staying here tonight?”

                “Nope. Sorry. I know it’s fucking awful, but we’re taking a very quick flight and then all day tomorrow, tomorrow night and then a lazy sleep in… all in one place, okay?”

                “One place for two nights?”

                “Well, what’s left of tonight once we get there, and then tomorrow night. Come on.”

                He gets Jake to shower and change into soft comfortable clothes, assures him no one will see him travelling. It’s easy because Jake didn’t even unpack, and Bradley just has him tucked up beside him as they get driven to the airport. The flight between Wellington and Rotorua is only a little over an hour. There are cars waiting for them and Jake is drowsy and easy enough to direct. He’s adorably snuggly and his heart twists with warmth as he runs his fingers through his hair.

…            …            …

                He’s sitting at the table, dressed and ready for the day ahead, reading through further information Ice and Mav have sent him, none of which really impacts his actions when it comes to Jake’s safety, when Jake finally stirs and blinks sleepily at him.

                “Where am I?”

                “How specific do I need to be?” Bradley asks and Jake pulls a face.

                “I preferred yesterday when I woke up and you were still in bed with me.”

                “Well, I did spend the night in bed with you. I just got up early, did a workout, then showered and got dressed…”

                “I missed watching you work out…”

                Bradley laughs, walks over to the bed and settles down beside Jake and takes in the fluffy hair, squinty eyes as he clearly protests being awake.

                “You want to see me get hot and sweaty?”

                “Well, I’d prefer other activities to get your hot and sweaty, but until you get off your high horse… it’s fine by the way. I respect it. But I just… I’m going to go and have a shower.”

                “Okay. I’ll have breakfast and coffee waiting for you.”

                Jake makes no effort to hide his morning erection, straining against his sleeping pants, and if he thinks it’s going to embarrass him he’s sorely mistaken. He just watches and when Jake glances back he just raises an eyebrow and smirks, amused when Jake blushes and then closes the bathroom door with an emphatic thump.

…            …            …

                Jake re-enters the room, showered and looking much more put together and rested, although he’s still wearing the clothes he slept in. He settles in the chair opposite and promptly hooks his ankle around Bradley’s.

                “Okay, so you never answered. Where am I? Where are we?”

                “Rotorua.”

                “Okay. That sounds familiar but I have no idea why. Care to explain?”

                “Well, thought I’d take you on a date.”

                “Yeah? What have you got planned?”

                “Well, I have to say I do feel like I got a playbook and cheated a little, but it’s still happening…”

                Jake waves an impatient hand, clearly wanting him to get to the point.

                “Ziplining. Then an afternoon mountain biking…”

                “Wait. Seriously? Javy said no to that…”

                “I’m not Javy.”

                “Oh my god. I want to kiss you…”

                “After our date.”

                “An all-day date?”

                “Yep. Still have Rueben and Lee with us though. Natasha is in Auckland having a pamper afternoon after she deals with the, uh, aftermath of yesterday.” Jake groans and Bradley laughs. “It’s fine, but there were some fans who had the super-pass and were standing on the stage and the media are convinced that one of them is your soulmate.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. No one thinks it’s one of your security detail at least, who as far as most of the media knows has been the same for most of the tour. No one new you could possibly be trading first words with.”

                “Oh.”

                “And no press or media today or tomorrow. Two whole days where you can just… not think about it.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank Natasha. But I’ll be sure to pass it on… So I’m going to try and make today feel as normal and fun as I can. For all that we’re doing a whole bunch of touristy things.”

                “Yeah, a little touristy but also I’m just dying to do something different,” Jake says, and Bradley suddenly feels a lot more confident about the other things he’s tacked on to the day.

                “Well, it’s not quite an original date idea, seeing as you put it on your planned day off, but I thought that I could make it happen…”

                “Are you serious?”

                “Yep. Told you I wanted to treat you right.”

                The look Jake gives him feels charged with electricity, heavy, a little intense and a challenge all rolled into one. Bradley simply holds his gaze, reminds himself that he has four days of work, then the flight home and then he’s officially off the books. His restraint is being tested though and he really does want to kiss Jake.

                “Well, what are we waiting for?”

                “You to get dressed. For a start.”

…            …            …

                The four of them are fastened into harnesses and he resists the urge to check that they’ve got them all done correctly. Obviously if things go badly it’ll reflect on them, they’re probably being extra careful with Jake there. The safety briefing is quick but thorough, and soon he’s soaring through the treetops. He can hear Rueben whooping up ahead and grins, hears Jake’s shout of joy and then his own stomach swoops as he glides effortlessly from one platform to another. The forest is lush and green, rushing water below them is picturesque. The rush of wind, coupled with the views and the adrenaline it’s pretty exhilarating. He gets to the end and Rueban and Jake are both waiting and then Lee is joining them and he catches the look they share. Getting paid to do this kind of stuff is pretty amazing.

                Jake takes the obligatory photos with the staff, Rueben does the job of asking them to hold off mentioning anything on social media channels for at least twenty-four hours, ideally forty-eight. They happily agree when Jake mentions giving them a shoutout on his account when he gets to Auckland, that he’s currently avoiding social media. It doesn’t stop him taking plenty of photos though, and he notes Rueben and Lee are taking plenty of the two of them and he’ll have to thank them later. After getting them to send him the best ones.

                The café they’re heading to for lunch is apparently famous for their grilled cheese, winning national competitions, and Rueben had already done the research so he follows his lead. Rueben’s also the one driving them and Bradley’s not complaining that he gets to sit in the back of a car and get driven around, all while holding Jake’s hand as he looks through pictures. Fortunately it’s the middle of the week, which means it’s maybe a little quieter. Still people approach and ask for photos when they realize exactly who Jake is. Again they’re asked to hold fire on posting anything to social media but Bradley knows that with every photo taken the chance of their location being made known increases. Jake talks to them about enjoying his day off and he’s definitely a people pleaser, his fans are pretty understanding, wishing him well, although they’re also clearly looking around for who might be with them and also Jake’s soulmate.

                Then they’re on the way to mountain biking and he’s arranged hiring four bikes, Lee and Rueben taking the front. Rueben, with his experience, has arranged lifts back to the top each time, although both he and Lee give him shit for being lazy. It does make for a more pleasurable experience though, navigating their way through a network of trails through a forest. He’s never done mountain biking before, and he’s glad that he and Jake stick to the beginner trails, because even those have tree roots and drops that make him wonder if Rueben and Lee are going to come away with broken limbs. By the time they finish up his quads are burning and he’s regretting working out that morning, not realizing quite how active the day was going to be. At least they can all enjoy the next part.

…            …            …

                He catches Jake looking at him, eyebrow quirked and he just grins. Rueben pulls into a parking area and then hops out, making a call to let them know they’ve arrived. Then someone is there, then they’re all being escorted to a side door and ushered through softly-carpeted hallways and into luxurious bathrooms. Rueben and Lee disappear to their own, he was intent on them getting their own and letting him and Jake just have this together.

                “What are we doing here?”

                “Massage. Hopefully something relaxing. With mud.”

                “Um. What?”

                “I’ve been assured you’ll like it.”

                “Natasha.”

                “Natasha,” Bradley agrees with a grin, and he nods toward the shower cubicle.

                “Not going to shower with me?” Jake asks.

                “Nope… I’ve got my own cubicle.”

                “Well, that ruins some of my fun… wait. Is this like, a couples massage?

                “Yeah.”

                “Oh…”

                He never thought Jake Seresin would get embarrassed, not by being shown a little softness but it seems like he is, little streaks of pink appearing on the crest of his cheeks and Bradley doesn’t resist the urge to reach out and just squeeze his hand.

                “Go on. There should be a fluffy robe and sexy disposable underwear for after your washed off the dirt and sweat from the ride…”

                He’s also packed a change of clothes and some other essentials for later. Once they’re both showered and wrapped in matching robes Bradley presses the call button, an attendant appears to lead them to another room. It’s warm, dimly lit, calming and quiet music set the mood. He and Jake are led to tables side by side, where they can look at each other if they want to, although he notes Jake decides to instead shove his head in the hole and hide his face. That’s okay, Bradley can understand him feeling a little overwhelmed. He didn’t warn him about this part of the date and he wonders if he should maybe mention the next parts.

                Then they’re asked if they’re ready to start, then he’s being covered in warm… mud. It has to be mud. It feels odd, but the person massaging him though is good, the pressure of their hands soothing the aches in his tired muscles and he lets himself relax. He opens his eyes a little while later to find Jake watching him and he smiles softly, gets a slow sleepy smile in return which makes his heart kick in his chest. The sluice of warm water over his legs startles him and then he realizes they’re washing the mud off.

                They’re both rinsed clean and then towel dried, then the robes are there and they’re back in the bathrooms showering to get the last little remnants of mud off. Jake definitely looks more relaxed, and he somehow looks better, and he already looked good.

                “So, where are we going next?”

                “Private hot tub soak in the forest…”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yep. And then dinner and a walk…”

                “Wow. Thank you for this. All of it. Today.”

                “Want to give you every experience that you want,” Bradley says, because it’s the truth but also this wasn’t even difficult or original. He simply took what Jake wanted already and added to it. He thinks he’s going to find Jake surprisingly easy to please.

…            …            …

                “Here, got you some trunks.”

                “Thanks.”

                Then Bradley is turning away and he can see his words across Bradley’s left shoulder blade, writing messy and scrawling and definitely his and he lets out a little laugh, which has Bradley turning back to look at him.

                “What?”

                “Just… saw my words. Feel like I should apologize for my handwriting.”

                The smile Bradley gives him reminds him of the one they’d exchanged when they’d just been looking at each other while getting massages. He’s never felt this relaxed at the end of a tour before, and he knows, hopes, that it’s because Bradley is there. He’s sleeping rather than lying awake, feeling settled and grounded despite being miles from home.

                “Come on, get changed. We can cuddle and talk while sitting in the hot tub…”

                “Oh my god, that sounds amazing…”

                He changes quickly, tries not to focus on the fact that he’s very briefly naked and in the same room as Bradley. Then he’s following him out and it’s quiet, and he can see a few people but there a fair way away and it obvious that care has been taken to make the most of the surrounding forest to provide privacy. They walk down a boardwalk to a tub, and there is steam rising from the surface of the water, and also a nearby stream. Right. Geothermal waters. The steam gives an illusion of even more privacy, almost like it’s a different world and he drops his towel on the bench and steps over the edge of the tub and into the warm water, Bradley following hi,

                “Come here…” Bradley states, and then he finds himself nestled between Bradley’s thighs as his arms and legs wrap around Jake and he hooks his head over Jake’s shoulder and places a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

                “What if I want to cuddle you?”

                “Then we take turns. Just let me hold you for a bit.”

                “Yeah, okay with me,” Jake murmurs, settling relaxing further. He can see a jug of water with glasses off to the side, along with a platter of fruit and hums appreciatively. It feels like it’s been a while since his grilled cheese at lunch, but he doesn’t reach for anything, he has a question he wants to ask. “What did you think, about your words I mean?”

                “I thought I was either going to play a lot of games of hide and seek, or maybe be a member of a search and rescue team. Although, I did think the person would be more appreciative of being found if I was in search and rescue. What about you? Are your words why you have a reputation for trying to escape from your security detail?”

                “Not intentionally,” Jake muses. Thinks about it. “Maybe? I don’t know. I always finish a show and need some time to…”

                “Decompress?”

                “Yeah,” Jake agrees quietly, and he’s grateful that Bradley apparently understand that part of him already. Not the high-energy performer that his public image hangs from, but the quieter edges of him that ache for the comforts of home after. That Bradley might become that home now… it’s equal parts terrifying as it is exciting.

                “Just… can I have a kiss?” Jake asks, turning in the water to face him. He knows Bradley has his line drawn in the invisible sand, and he’s glad in the moment that it’s there, the knowledge that it can’t, or won’t, go any further.

                “Yeah. Of course you can have a kiss now…”

                Bradley has been affectionate and pressed so many kisses to his forehead and cheek, let his hands rest where they fall on Jake’s body when standing side-by-side, or guiding him through crowds. It’s been casual and easy, comforting in how easy Bradley had just offered the new level of affection.

                Bradley’s hand cups Jake’s face and it’s soft, slow and exploratory. He lets the water buoy him and he straddles Bradley’s thighs, loops his arms around his neck and lets himself press into it, firmer but not hard, just wanting to convey that he’s here, with Bradley and not thinking about anything else in the moment other than them together. He can feel Bradley’s hands on his hips beneath the water, a steady presence just holding him and he can’t get his head around feeling so settled and grounded while also feeling like he’s flying.

…            …            …

                Bradley meets up with Rueben and Lee, goes over the last few plans for the rest of the day. They’re both still on the high that they’re both getting paid to effectively have the best day off and if he can have them form part of Jake’s permanent security detail he’s going to do it. Jake comes out of the bathroom and grins at them all, but it’s his hand he reaches for, linking their fingers together and he doesn’t even bother to try hiding his grin.

                “What next? I’m starting to get a little hungry, so I hope you’re going to say food…”

                “Yeah, it’s food. Come on.”

                He lets Rueben and Lee take care of everything, the driving and security checks. His own eyes don’t stop moving, not until they all pile into one gondola and then slowly travel up the hillside, to where the restaurant sits. They’ll have the best view of the scenery and while Rueben and Lee are there, they’re also not sitting at the same table as them, a small private dining area set off just to the side. He has no idea what he eats, not even sure he does considering he doesn’t seem to have let go of Jake’s hand. Then they’re watching the sky turn dark, shots of pink and gold filling the sky over the lake and okay, it’s a pretty fucking perfect first date and it’s not over yet.

                They take the luge down the hill, racing each other and Jake laughs and it is unplanned and Bradley is very fucking grateful that none of them break anything, even if Rueben and Lee both look like they want to do it again if Jake suggests it. He doesn’t give him a chance to, takes Jake’s hand in his again and tugs him towards the car.

                “Come on… one more thing to do.”

                “What?”

                “Nighttime canopy walk through the redwood trees…”

                The look on Jake’s face is gratifying, the squeeze of his hand and grin that clearly indicates he’s more than happy that their date is not yet over. They’re not very far away, but it’s dark by the time they get out of the car. There’s another short safety briefing, and Jake smiles, signs an autograph but then they’re left alone to make their way through the canopy, suspended on purpose built walkways. There are lanterns casting shadows and it feels like the rest of the world has just slipped away from existence, leaving just the two of them.

                They need their hands free for holding on a lot of the time, some of the passages too narrow to consider holding hands anyway, but he stops them at every platform, wraps his arms around Jake and lets himself drop gentle kisses on Jake’s face, his lips, his neck. As the walk progresses the kisses become a bit longer, a little more heated, and he’s glad that while it might feel like they’re alone, there are people waiting for them. He has his resolve and ethics and he’s going to trying his level fucking best to stick to them. Kissing Jake is his compromise.

                The compromise is unfairly tested when they get back to the ground, Jake smiling and grateful, but his fingers gripping Bradley’s hand so hard it’s almost painful as they thank the operators for letting them book the entire evening. Then he’s being pulled along a little path, the light down here even less than it had been up in the canopy. Then he’s being pushed up against one of the trees and Jake is kissing him fiercely, hard and bruising, breath gasping out of him and he’s pressing his groin against Bradley’s thigh and grinding –

                “Jesus Jake…” Bradley groans, letting himself just enjoy it for a moment, he’ll stop. Soon.

                “God, can we… please… I… fuck. Sorry…”

                “Just… kind of like the idea of our first time being in your bed. Or my bed.”

                Jake groans, but it’s not one of pleasure, more of frustration and Bradley forces himself to stop, to just rest his forehead against Jake’s shoulder and breathe, and Jake mirrors the posture, his forehead on Bradley’s shoulder.

                “Oh my god, you’re a romantic.”

                “Yeah. Little bit.”

                “Ugh. Why me…”

                “You deserve to be romanced… also I don’t want us to have to hurry or have to be somewhere. I’ve waited my whole life for this, what’s a couple more days?”

                “You can’t be sweet and look so fucking hot. My brain can’t cope…”

                “You want me to apologize?”

                “No. Never. Just… give me a minute.”

                “Of course.”

…            …            …

                “Oh god, what is that smell?”

                “Sulfur. Active volcanic zone remember?”

                “And the whole town smells like this?”

                “Apparently you get used to it. We’ve been on the outskirts of the town mostly, so it’s… not as intense.”

                “Our first date, I’ll remember it every time I get a whiff of sulfur or rotten eggs… Great.”

                “Hopefully other things make you remember it too. Now come on, we have a flight to Auckland pretty early tomorrow.”

                “How early is early?”

                “Nine.”

                “Oh… that’s actually humane.”

                “It’s only a forty-five minute flight, so yeah, no early morning wake up.”

                Like the previous two nights they fall asleep together.

…            …            …

                The next three days and final two concerts whip past in a blur; apart from sleeping with Jake tucked carefully in his arms at night he’s the epitome of a professional, although both Rueben and Lee keep smirking at him. He subtly gives them the finger when he catches them, but he’s counting down the hours to hand-over now. Jake has had multiple interviews, fielded endless questions about his soul bond which he’s deflected by simply saying that his soul mate deserves their privacy. There has been no hint of gender or nationality, and Bradley is pretty sure Jake is treating it like a challenge now, to keep it a secret after letting it slip in the first place. He doesn’t mind either way, but does appreciate not being under the same scrutiny as Jake himself.

                Then they’re finally on their final flight home, they’ve spent a lot of time conversing, mostly through messages on their phones, exchanging dirtier and dirtier information and it’s been good, having such a serious conversation almost silently. If their phones ever get hacked then they’ll be in trouble but they’ve managed to get through some pretty meaningful and important discussions with minimal awkwardness, which has been an unintended benefit. Although he’s well aware it’s once again crossing over the now incredibly blurred line in the sand regarding his professionalism. However he’s pretty sure Jake isn’t going to allow time for any type of actual conversation before they end up having sex, so again this is something he’s prepared to compromise on.

                “You two are weird… Tour has finally finished. We’re on our way home. You finally have some privacy and you’re both sitting there, not even touching, staring intently at your phones.”

                “We’re communicating plenty,” Jake says darkly, shifting in his seat and Bradley grins, looks at the ceiling of the plane to avoid looking at Jake. He’d just shared that he really likes eating guys out, but that some guys don’t like his moustache because it makes all the sensitive skin just that little bit more sensitive. He’s pretty sure Jake is sporting a semi in his sweats, hiding it with a blanket draped over and he glances to him. Sure enough, Jake is glaring at him and Bradley raises an eyebrow, knows Jake can’t do anything about it right now.

                “Bathroom,” Jake spits out, and then he’s gone toward the back of the plane.

                Bradley feels smug until he receives the photo, Jake’s hand around his cock and he bites back a groan.

                Yeah, he guesses he deserved that.

…            …            …

                “Fucking finally… come on.”

                “You sure you don’t want to sleep?”

                “I’ve waited fucking long enough.”

                “Come on then, shower first… get clean hmm?”

                “No. Take too long. Just… something else first?”

                “You trying to give orders now?" Bradley teases, thrusting against him hard enough to almost knock him off his feet and Jake makes grabby hands, his fingers curling in the fabric of Bradley’s shirt and holding tight as they kiss and grind against each other.

                “Yes, I am if you don't want me to come in my fucking pants," Jake gasps and Bradley makes a considering look, because the idea of it, the accompanying visual is definitely something that turns him on. Stepping back, gentler and more careful than before, he slips a couple of fingers into the waistband of Jake’s sweats and pushes them down, leaving the underwear for now, because he’s going to see his words on Jake soon, up close and very personal.

                "Tempting. Another time," he promises, and then he drops to his knees and the way Jake’s eyes go darker is gratifying.

…            …            …

                Jake has to squeeze the base of his cock through the fabric of his underwear to keep from losing it right there. God, this is going to be over alarmingly quickly but it’s okay, he reminds himself, Bradley won’t care or judge and it’s going to be one of many times together, but he can’t help the small part of him that wants it to be perfect. God, maybe rutting against the thick expanse of Bradley’s thigh might have been perfect, seeing him on his knees right now definitely is, but maybe anything would be perfect right now and he needs to stop worrying about any of it and all of it. But he does want his hands on him and he holds a hand out, makes Bradley stand up and then leads him to his bedroom.

                “You did say you wanted to have a bed…”

                “I say a lot of things…”

                He watches as Bradley kicks his pants off. It's not the first time Jake's seen him naked, but it’s the first time he’s allowed to look. To touch. He's gorgeous all over, thick and strong in a way that makes him look bigger than he really is. When he reaches for the waistband of his boxers, Jake does the same, kicks his underwear off and then Bradley is there, fully naked, touching him everywhere, pressing their bodies together. Their cocks are bobbing around ridiculously but then Bradley’s hand is there, just catching and holding them both, more to guide than anything else and Jake groans.

                “Bed, come on. Want you on me…”

                It’s something he’d mentioned in their silent text exchange, that he likes feeling blanketed and pinned down, held and grounded. Bradley is walking him backwards toward his own bed and he lets himself fall back and then shuffles up, his eyes not leaving Bradley’s. Then he lets his legs fall open, runs a finger along the crease of his thigh and Bradley’s eyes track the movement.

                “Oh…” Bradley murmurs under his breath. Then he’s licking over the words and Jake almost jackknifes back up at the sudden ticklish sensation. “Mmm… stay where I tell you to huh?”

                “Asshole.”

                “Yep. Proud of it too.”

                Then Bradley shifts and moves Jake, so he can staddle Jake’s thighs and his hands are free to roam and touch everywhere; suddenly Jake can do the touching he so badly wanted to do and he grips Bradley’s thighs, and, God, Jake feels like he’s waited forever for this. Then Bradley shifts again and he’s close enough that Jake can get his hand on his cock, although Bradley is leaning down to kiss him. He thumbs the thick vein under the head of Bradley's cock, smiles when he feels Bradley's mouth open against his neck, feels smug. Tightening his grip and stroking in earnest, Jake angles his head down to watch his hand working between them. Bradley has a nice cock, thick and shiny pink where the head pokes through Jake's fist. Jake knows he's an asshole for feeling relieved about it. It's not like he would want Bradley any less if he had a tiny dick or anything, but it's nice not to have to worry about it.

                "Thought about this," Jake tells him. He licks his palm messily before reaching down to stroke him again, grip tight and slick with saliva, likes the fact that all he can see and feel is Bradley.

                It's been a while since Jake last did this for someone, and even then it was mostly just a step to get to the good stuff. Touching Bradley is different; Jake wants to know what he likes. He strokes faster and slower, tighter and looser, shorter and with a twist of his wrist at the end just to see what reactions he can get. Playing with Bradley's foreskin makes him hiss through his teeth, so Jake quickly gives up on that in favor of the long, tight strokes that seem to illicit the best response. He is rewarded with shifting hips and low, throaty groans.

                "God, Jake," Bradley murmurs drunkenly, tipping his head forward to mouth at Jake's clavicle.

                The way Bradley gasps out his name makes Jake's heart feel too big for his chest. Clamping his eyes shot Jake works his hand steadily, focusses on the little hitching sounds that Bradley makes on each upstroke. Everything is slick with spit and precum now, Jake's own cock leaking between them steadily. He's so hard it hurts, but it's easy enough to ignore when he feels Bradley's muscles twitch and shudder above him. Then Bradley shifts again, grabbing for Jake’s wrists, pinning him to the mattress. Wiggling a little, Jake's heart pounds when Bradley doesn't budge. Jake stares up at him, eyes wide.

                "I'm so into this. So into you," he tells Bradley in amazement.

                Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling fondly. He's lovely, he's so lovely, it drives Jake completely crazy.

                "You’re much too coherent," Bradley states, pushing Jake's wrists up above his head and stretching him out beneath him with a heated gaze. All the fantasies in the world have nothing on the way Bradley looks perched above him, eyes dark as he transfers both of Jake's wrists into one hand and runs the other down his chest. He touches him everywhere but where he wants, dragging a palm down Jake's throat, over his pecs and stomach then back up. Jake pushes his heels into the mattress as thick fingers rub against his left nipple, sending a shiver of electricity to his crotch.

                "Bradley," he gasps. "I don't need... I don't need much. Please."

                "Mmm," Bradley agrees, dropping his head to suck the abused nipple into his mouth. Squirming against his hold, Jake whines weakly. It's too much.

                He wants more. Needs more.

                "You're so easy for me," Bradley murmurs wonderingly, stubble scratching against sensitive skin as he talks. It's been long enough since Jake fucked a guy that he can't remember if stubble-burn always turned him on or if it's a Bradley-specific thing, the moustache is softer than he thought it would be though.

                "Yeah. Just for you," Jake breathes, because it's pretty obvious what buttons to push with Bradley. As he suspected would happen the illusion of control breaks, and Bradley shudders, pushing up to kiss him. Sucking messily at Bradley's tongue, Jake wants to pull his legs up to wrap around his hips, wants to be able to chase more friction against his body. His cock feels heavy and painfully hard between his legs, and Bradley is still hovering above him, infuriatingly out of reach.

                "Please, come on," Jake insists between kisses. "I need you. Come on, Bradley."

                Bradley makes a wounded noise into his mouth, hand fumbling as it slides between their bodies to finally wrap around Jake's cock. It's embarrassing how close he is already. Little choking sounds escape his mouth with every shift of Bradley's hand over the swollen head of his cock, the sensation almost too much. Thrusting messily into the circle of Bradley's fist, Jake's too far gone to care how desperate he might look.

                He wants to drag this out, wants Bradley touching him forever, but he's been ready to go off since Bradley kissed him three days ago. The hot, tight slide of Bradley's hand over him now is too much. His balls tighten and his entire body is jerking like his entire body is crying out for touch despite having it nearly everywhere. Bradley releases his wrists suddenly, collapsing forward onto his forearm and jerking Jake hard and fast.

                "I've got you, I've got you," he murmurs over and over into Jake's neck. The familiar rumble of his voice tips Jake over the edge, muscles seizing. Pleasure crashes into him as he jerks and spills, hot and messy all over Bradley's hand and his own stomach. Bradley whispers nonsense as he wrings him out, yeah baby, that's it, so fucking gorgeous, so good. Jake whines weakly as he spasms through the aftershocks, too blissed-out to care how dumb he might sound or look.

                He slumps and goes boneless, Bradley kissing messily along his neck and jaw. Still panting, Jake strokes clumsily up and down his back, trying to regain his wits. Bradley's cock is pressing insistently against his hip, so Jake slides his hands down to grab the flesh of his ass, pulling him forward. Moaning gratefully, Bradley thrusts through the mess Jake made of his own stomach, cock head smearing wetness up his abs.

                "Yeah," Jake breathes, encourages. He feels sluggish and come-stupid, but he wants to make Bradley feel good. He can’t wait to find all the ways  to make Bradley feel good, once he has a functioning brain again and he’s regained his hand-eye coordination.

                Turning his head, he nudges Bradley's mouth up for a kiss, simultaneously digging his nails into his ass. Bradley's hips stutter then thrust hard against Jake's belly, hand sliding down to grip his hip. Even half out of his mind, he's bossy, angling Jake's hips how he wants them and rutting against him. Jake leans back, reveling in how wrecked Bradley looks as he jerks harder and harder against him, mouth wet and open and eyes lidded.

                "Come on. Come on, baby," Jake whispers, rolling his hips with each thrust. He's so oversensitive it almost hurts, but he doesn't care. Bradley looks close. Licking his lips, Jake kisses him on the corner of his slack mouth. "I want it. I want it, Bradley. Come for me. Want everyone to know I'm yours. Come on."

                It's mostly nonsensical, but it seems to do the trick. Bradley scrambles for leverage, shoves Jake up the bed with two hard thrusts before going rigid and coming in long, groaning bursts over his chest and stomach. Jake gentles him through it, stroking his hair and shoulders and murmuring encouragingly as he shudders, trying to memorize the way Bradley's face looks all screwed-up and euphoric. Jake did that, made him look that way, and he knows he doesn’t need to commit it to memory because they’ll be doing this again, but he still wants to remember it. Bradley collapses to the side with an arm slung over Jake's stomach. Honestly, Jake would have kind of liked being squashed, but he appreciates that Bradley is as much of a gentleman about this as he is about everything else. It's part of his charm.

                "You good?" he asks.

                Bradley grunts in response, obviously still out of it, and Jake smiles. It's disgusting, really, how gone he is on him. Shifting closer, Jake turns his head towards Bradley and closes his eyes, happy to just lie there and enjoy the moment. It's almost too good to take in all at once and he suspects that’s partially due to the exhaustion catching up with him, feels himself drift in and out of consciousness. He feels the mattress shift and Bradley's arm slide carefully off his waist. There is a split second when Jake thinks maybe he's just rolling over, but then Bradley's weight is gone and he's alone in bed. He's not sure how much time passes before something warm and wet swipes over his stomach, startling him back into consciousness and he grumbles quietly about almost being asleep.

                "It’s this or a shower…" Bradley whispers, and he’s definitely looking smug when Jake blinks up at him. He's leaning over the bed, washcloth in hand, still completely naked, hair a complete disaster.

                "Shower… " Jake mumbles, because he’s pretty sure it won’t be alone. Not anymore, not when Bradley is around.

                “You think you can stand?” Bradley asks, and Jake immediately feels a surge of needing to prove that he can. Although…

                “You can make sure I don’t fall over.”

                And he gets Bradley’s arms around him, pulling him up which is what he was angling for.

…            …            …

                Bradley knows Jake has a stubborn streak, and a level of self-discipline that keeps him going despite how exhausted he might get. But he doesn’t have to draw on those reserves right now, he’d hoped Jake would fall asleep and they could revisit everything in the morning and yet here he is in the shower, a naked half-asleep Jake Seresin insisting he’s good for another round. Bradley would like to differ, but that seems to make Jake do nothing but dig his heels in so he’s going along with it for now.

                It’s nice, quietly soft, having just come he’s not really angling for anything more, just lets himself enjoy the warm and slippery feel of Jake against him, his tongue and lips and little hums of happy pleasure. Then he feels Jake’s hand grab his ass, fingers brushing over his hole and he grins into the curve of Jake’s shoulder, mirrors the exact same thing and is surprised when Jake pushes back against his fingers.

                “It’s not a race Jake. We don’t have to do everything in one night…”

                Jake whines against his neck, hips jerking.

                “I want to though…”

                “We have time.”

                He does try to make them they take their time, part of him wonders if they should maybe be waiting a bit longer, Jake’s been on tour for six months, was dead on his feet less than a week ago and was almost asleep no less than fifteen minutes ago. As much as he looks and acts like he’s bounced back Bradley is fairly certain that nothing but a couple of weeks rest is going to truly bring him back to his equilibrium. Despite all that Jake is going through the motions of washing his hair and body, and Bradley is doing his best to ensure he stays upright and doesn’t fall asleep and brain himself.

                “I’m just… don’t be too long… want you to fuck me,” Jake says and Bradley can’t help but raise a disbelieving eyebrow as Jake steps out of the shower and starts drying himself off.

                “I’ll be right there…” Bradley says, amused beyond belief because he’s not even hard, glad that Jake has such faith in his refractory period. He takes his time, pays attention to getting clean himself and lets himself think about the fact that there will definitely be more sex with Jake in the very near future. He dries himself off and walks back into the bedroom and has to bite back a laugh, because Jake has passed out cold, but also clearly had some serious intent. He’s gotten the lube out, his fingers are shiny with it, as is his ass crack and Bradley picks up the tube and places it on the bedside table safely out of the way, uses his damp towel to wipe Jake’s fingers and presses a soft kiss to his bicep.

                “Sleep well Jake.”

…            …            …

                He wakes up the next morning and he doesn’t think Jake has moved, still completely sacked out but still the most gorgeous sight Bradley has ever woken up to. And he’s certain he’s going to think that every morning he wakes up with Jake beside him. As he watches Jake shifts a little, just a little grind of his hips and Bradley bites his lip, an idea forming as he reaches for the lube and a couple of condoms. Then he slides a finger into himself, is generous with the lube although a little impatient with the actual stretching, his cock getting harder the more he thinks about Jake fucking him. He’d been very thorough last night, not really expecting Jake to be able to stay awake but still not cutting any corners. It does mean that he doesn’t have to take his time this morning, and he knows from his experience the last few mornings that Jake is going to wake fairly soon and he’d like to wake him up. No alarm needed.

                Wiping his fingers on the same towel he used on Jake’s fingers last night, he drops it, then leans forward to kiss Jake's throat, then the underside of his jaw before moving up to run his nose against the side of Jake's stubbly cheek. Bradley's lips graze the corner of Jake's mouth as he smiles again. Up close his dimples are deeper and his eyelashes are darker, and he’s so gorgeous and he’s all Bradley’s. Jake makes little sleepy grunts, his body stretching out to press against Bradley as he wakes and then he’s kissing him properly, shifting to press his hard cock against Bradley’s own.

                “Morning.”

                “Is it morning?”

                “Sure is…” Bradley says, rolling his hips to provide friction for them both, feels Jake shift in response to add to it. Maybe they could just rut against each other like this. Jake is groaning, muttering something which he can’t make sense of, too quiet.

                “How do you like it? Want to fuck me?” Bradley asks, which isn’t actually what he wanted to ask, but he’s getting a little distracted by how Jake’s body feels and he’s not actually fussy but he had an idea and he’d like to at least try it…

                “Yes yes yes.”

                “Or can I fuck you?”

                “I don’t fucking care right now… Just… did I fall asleep last night?”

                “Yep. While I was finishing up in the shower.”

                “God, I am so sorry. That is not sexy.”

                “Oh, it was okay… came in to find you passed out cold and had started fingering yourself without even waiting for me to watch…”

                “Oh my god, it gets worse…”

                “Going to let me open you up? Pretty sure you won’t fall asleep this time.”

                Jake doesn’t answer with words, just shifts and stretches, opens the drawer and then looks confused and Bradley holds out the lube.

                “Looking for this?”

                Jake glares at him, but it’s got no heat and Bradley feels his mouth go dry as Jake shifts again, legs spreading and shoving a pillow under his hips, challenge broadcasted in every movement and Bradley feels smug, thinking about his idea with what he knows Jake has said he likes in bed and what he knows about his own body. He was going to let Jake in on his idea, but he decides not to, his little sulking attitude should not be this hot.

                Jake’s ass crack is tacky with the lube he used the night before and Bradley ignores the sensation, just coats his finger and goes to town, his eyes not leaving Jake’s face, watching for discomfit although the expression on Jake’s face is almost belligerent. Bradley can’t help but lean forward and kiss him, catches each of Jake’s little gasps with his own mouth and works him open slowly and steadily.

                “I’m good, come on…”

                He takes him at his word, presses a kiss to each of Jake’s knees, wipes his hands and then reaches for the condom. Lets Jake take it from him and open it up, rolls it down his cock and then falls back again and shoves his ass in Bradley’s direction.

                “Subtle.”

                “Come on…” Jake snaps and then Bradley’s pushing inside, one long slow push and Jake moans, low and deep and Bradley shakes a little.

                “Fuck,” Bradley says against the side of Jake’s neck, breath humid and hot. He keeps his hips carefully still, waiting for Jake to give him the go-ahead.

                “Yeah, yeah… come on.”

                Bradley tightens his hand on Jake’s hip and then he’s pulling out, letting Jake feel every inch of him, before thrusting back in. He takes it nice and slow, knows he has time. Jake is shifting, trying to get closer, maybe wanting it harder. Regardless, he’s not using any words and Bradley just lets his hips roll in and out, picking up the pace in response to Jake’s breathing picking up speed. His own breath is coming in pants and he can feel his orgasm building, bends down to kiss Jake.

                “I’m not, I… I said…”

                “Shh… It’s okay. I got you. Think we’re made for each other…”

                “You feel good.”

                “Mmm. So do you,” Bradley says, his hips snapping now, thinks about Jake admitting via a message sent not even two days ago that he hardly ever comes when he’s getting fucked. It’s fine, Bradley’s not about to try and prove himself, but it does mean he can just chase his own orgasm and come as quickly as possible. Then he can focus on Jake and his pleasure. He jerks as he comes, his teeth pressing into Jake’s neck and god he hopes that doesn’t mark, that would be a little embarrassing. He gives himself twenty seconds, his thrusts slowing and he finally pulls out all the way, kisses away the expression on Jake’s face as he reaches for another condom and the lube.

                “Wait, what… what are you doing?” Jake asks, and his eyes are glazed and intense and Bradley feels a little shaky but he can do this, rolls the condom down Jake’s cock, strokes him a couple of times with lube before he shifts up so he’s straddling Jake’s stomach.

                “Told you I like being fucked after I’ve come.”

                “Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” Jake breathes as Bradley sinks down on his cock, his thighs trembling but then Jake’s hips are raising up to meet him and he lets gravity take over, groan into the shivery-shake of over stimulation that he likes. Sometimes he can come again, wonders if this’ll be one of those times.

                “Fucking hell… you…” Jake starts and Bradley has no idea what his internal thought process is right now but he’s looking up at Bradley like he’s everything and he feels pretty satisfied with himself.

                “Yeah. Fuck,” Bradley says, rotating his hips in a tight circle

                “Bradley…”

                “Come on. Want you to fuck me now…”

                “What?”

                “Want you to fucking rail me. Just… come on.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Jake. Trust me. I’m more than sure.”

                Despite Bradley’s hasty encouragement and slight disgruntlement that Jake won’t just take his word for it, part of him is glad that Jake cares enough, although he’ll soon learn that when Bradley tells him he’s ready to be fucked, he really does mean it. Then Jake is pushing him off, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he moves Bradley around to where he wants him and Bradley realizes that those messages went both ways. Jake is remembering his own admissions about favorite position and he groans, lets his shoulders sink down to bear his weight, his ass in the air and Jake’s hands on his cheeks, pulling them apart and then he’s pressing his cock in and yeah, yeah, it’s going to be one of those times.

                Jake sets a brutal pace and Bradley reassess his consideration that Jake maybe didn’t take him at his word. His entire body feels electrified, nerves twanging and he manages to get a hand on himself, hears Jake’s startled intake of breath, his hips somehow picking up the pace and Bradley grunts, pushes back as he works his hand on his cock. It never really went soft, is feeling overstimulated but he knows from experience that pushing through that will make the second orgasm even better, will have an even sharper edge of relief when he comes.

                Jake knows this, his fingers digging into his hips as he fucks into him, their combined pants the only noises in the room and then he feels Jake’s hands slip a little, their bodies getting slicker with sweat and god it’s so good. This is likely it for them, not just here in Jake’s bed, but beds all over the world, but finding and making a home with each other. Jake had been right when he’d accused him of being a romantic, because he’ll follow Jake anywhere. Right now that’s leading him to a second orgasm within thirty minutes and he shudders and shakes, eyes clenched shut against the burst of white pain-pleasure from working his cock so roughly. Jake makes an unintelligible sound and Bradley is certain he’s also coming but he’s too lost in the haze of his own pleasure again and fuck, his idea to make it all about Jake completely backfired.

                He slumps to the side, gasps at the sudden loss of Jake’s cock inside him, his body feeling even more jittery as he comes down. Then Jake is there, pressing kisses over his back and shoulders, using the towel to wipe up the worst of the mess and he really doesn’t care much about anything right now, just wants to be held and feel the warmth of Jake close to him; which he’s definitely getting, being tugged over to the unused and drier half of the bed, encouraged to lie on top of Jake like a human blanket. He can do that.

                “So glad you found me…” Jake says, his voice quiet.

                “So am I.”

…            …            …

     Jake Seresin married his long-term boyfriend, Bradley Bradshaw, this weekend, in an exclusive and highly secretive event. No word on whether Seresin’s soulmate was there or not, but we can probably assume that it is a platonic bond if he is marrying someone else. Bradshaw was very briefly a member of Seresin’s security detail before they -

                Kaysie looks at the words and starts digging, going back through Instagram accounts and the social medias of different places. There’s plenty of photos of Seresin and Bradshaw, their day in Rotorua incredibly well documented considering it was ostensibly a day-off for Jake rather than a PR exercise. The day after he’d unintentionally declared to the world that he’d found his soulmate, but a lot of the business posts and other posts are a day or two after the actual scheduled day off. Which was a few days after Bradley Bradshaw had joined the security detail. Her eyes narrow. That’s a hell of a coincidence, but there’s zero actual proof either way.

                She looks at the photos again, sees the joy and soft smiles and hopes that whether they’re soulmates or not, that they’re happy together and remain that way.

THE END

[rosakuma]

The Defense of one suspect and reasoning why the other one is sus(big spoilers for ep14 of DRDT)

Okay so with the huge reveal in the latest episode, we had a big revelation that we are down to two people who could be the killers. This post shall be a heavy discussion of that, so if you haven’t check out the latest episode, please go watch it before continuing to read(thank you!) Also warning: This is very long so prepare yourself to read for awhile if you can or want to.

Those being Eden or Ace. These two are picked as the murders due to both being connected to Nico’s murder attempt on Ace's account of being there. As for why, it’s because only those two could see the murder scene and gain access to the most important part of the crime scene, the tape. I’ve seen both parties talk about why their respective theories on which one did it before this episode. And while I can’t guarantee who I believe is innocent is not the culprit or vice versa, I wanted to share why I don’t believe Ace is the killer. Which would leave Eden as the culprit(unless we get another twist that there was someone following her). I’m going to go point by point with my reasoning. It probably won’t be perfect, but hey. If no one going to try to defend Ace, then I will(poor dude needs it, like seriously it’s so sad he has no one in his corner).

Reason 1: The crime scene + tape

As Teruko concluded, the culprit is connected to Nico’s murder attempt and tries to reuse that method to kill Arei. We know for sure Teruko is not the killer obviously from seeing her POV+ no motive to do so. When we get to the murder scene, we see that before Ace gets up, Teruko and Eden have enough time to look around at what happened. While Eden tells Teruko she needs a minute to process this, for all we know Eden could’ve been scanning the room still or maybe even listening to Teruko’s explanation.

Right as Ace gets up, he’s in pain and yelling while knocking Eden to the ground. He then grabs onto his neck from it stinging in pain.

After Teruko questioned him on what happened, he explained Nico tried to kill him(which he would know it was Nico before being knocked out again since Nico verified that he woke up struggling from the fan before going unconscious again when he hit the floor). To which to add to this, Ace at this moment must’ve been trying to get the wire off of his neck while getting a glance at Nico before he caused the fan to fall down and knock him back unconscious.

He then bolts out of the room to go find Nico to kill them. Afterwards, Teruko and Eden are greeted by MonoTv who has to clean up the scene and then kicks them out. They both go after Ace, who after talking with Teruko, Eden, and Levi, goes into his room for the night.

Now this could arguably be either him or Eden who grabbed the tape. But let’s think about what happens here. Ace wakes up in pain after being unconscious, immediately tries putting pressure on the source of his pain, and then runs out of the room trying to find Nico which is on his mind. Ace didn’t have enough time to absorb what was happening to process what Nico did to him along with grabbing the tape. But Eden however? She had a few minutes to look around the scene and was even knocked down onto the floor. And what was on the floor before that happened? The tape. (Also ignore the pony reacting to the tape being missing, I just wanted to draw my sona reacting to it for fun)

Another important detail to this is that MonoTv kicked Teruko and Eden out of the gym to clean it up.

To which it stated “I kept the gym closed overnight to make sure everything was super dry. Don’t want you slipping and falling into my chemical cleaning brews!” Meaning no one would’ve been able to go back and grab the tape or see the crime scene before it was cleaned up. So at that moment if our potential killers wanted to get that tape for murder, it would have to be right at the moment Teruko and Eden entered and caught Nico. Ace only had one thing on his mind, which was finding Nico. So he would not have picked up the tape. Plus we have to keep in mind that Ace acts on his emotions rather than logic(basically he ain’t that smart). Bro was willing to kill Nico(even though the complications of what would happen if he did it) without stopping for a moment to realize what happened nor to let himself calm down. I doubt he thought of a complex idea to copy Nico’s murder on the spot like that. While Eden on the other hand, our little clockmaker would probably be able to understand the mechanism of this murder in a matter of minutes since she’s used to having to build and work with parts running in motion.

Reason 2: Eden’s behavior, the note, and the timing of Alibi

Eden’s behavior across this case has been strange to me on rewatch. When going to the moment when they found Arei dead. Whit tries to cheer up Eden who is sad and crying over Arei dying. Immediately afterward switching up in saying she’s fine and just needs to deal with it. Even being peppy of saying “I’m super ready to investigate! I’ll do everything I can to help find Arei’s killer”.

She then tries to investigate with Teruko before she rejects her out of worry she could be the killer. Eden still tries to follow Teruko after this and overhears her talking to Charles, Whit, and Rose about the note. We know the note does have Eden’s name and was written to Arei to come meet her at the playground.

Now the logic was brought up of why would Eden try to help resemble the note when that would incriminate her to be the killer. Well, remember, pieces of the note were missing, with the key part being the time on whether it’s “PM” or “AM”. This evidence must’ve been important for Eden to get to prevent anyone from knowing when the murder takes place. Since Arei’s murder was confirmed to have occurred at 7:30 am due to her swinging. We know Eden doesn’t have an alibi for the morning. Only at night around that time she does.

Even the nighttime alibi I argue could’ve not prevented her from getting the fish due to the time frame of when her alibi is and the relaxation room. Eden claims around 7:30 pm that she was cleaning up dinner with Hu, right around when people thought it was the original murder time. Nico claimed after dinner, they went to feed the fish and then left afterward without seeing anyone. We know the relaxation room closes at 10 pm.

To which I purposed that Eden would’ve had enough time to get the water before it closed and after Nico left. Nico didn’t keep track of what time they fed the fish right? So for all we know they could’ve finished up dinner early or around 7:30 pm, left, and fed the fish. I doubt it took Eden and Hu that long to clean up dinner, so she could’ve slipped and gone to the relaxation room before 10 pm to receive the fish. Now yes you can still apply this to Ace of doing this still too, but I just wanted to point out that Eden could’ve still done it within the time frame. Eden if she was the culprit, she would wanted the note to be vague originally to make them think it was around 7:30pm as around the time of her alibi with Hu so no one would think of any suspicious on her possibly preparing for Arei’s murder for in the morning. Which would by default make someone like Ace who has no alibis at nighttime and the morning seem more suspicious than her who has one at least during nighttime. Thus why she came over to help repair the note as while it would make her seem suspicious of restoring it, she could argue with someone trying to frame her and that “Why would I help repair something that would incriminate me!?”

Reason 3: Evidence that doesn’t add up with Ace.

The evidence that confuses me with Ace being the killer is the starch ball and the turpentine. The starch ball most fans have concluded is turpentine, which was used for the clothes to stick them together. The thing is we don’t know the exact use this has in the murder case. But that isn’t important for this yet, what is important is where it came from. Charles found the ball in the dress-up room formed by Teruko and Hu’s old clothes.

The clothes were left in the dressing room. Meaning the murderer must’ve known about this outfit change occurring in there. We see suspiciously later that before Nico’s murder attempt, Eden was already there when Teruko went to that room. Eden claims she heard about the outfit change from Hu and went there to receive the new clothes for her and Teruko.

Eden at this time could’ve easily gotten hold of Teruko and Hu’s old clothes to use. Not to mention, if we assume that Eden was going to plan to kill Arei(just maybe didn’t have a set method yet), their conversation between them of Arei promising to be Eden’s friend happened before she came here.

As for Ace, when at any point was he in the dressing room? He wasn’t there when Teruko, Hu, and Whit had outfit changes or after it. So I’m confused about where Ace could’ve known about the clothes and got them to form the ball. And the ball has to be important as otherwise why is it there? It needs to be used for some part of the murder we haven’t figured out(my guess is it was used to knock out Arei) as I doubt the Dev would’ve just added a useless piece of evidence(even in DR there wasn’t evidence that was useless or not used). The only thing I’m confused about is how Eden got the turpentine, but idk how Ace would’ve either.

Reason 4: Fricken David

Okay I know this is David we’re talking about here and we know he’s a lying scumbag who tried manipulating everyone into committing mass suicide to follow in what he thinks Xander wanted to do to end the killing game. But I don’t think he’s lying about seeing Arei first. As much David trying to get everyone killed here(which causes more doubt of agreeing with J on he could be lying AND putting the idea into Teruko’s head that “Oh you want to distrust others, it’s the only thing you can do” which would motivate her into trusting Eden), I think he’s serious about Arei. If David truly didn’t care about Arei, then why were we shown that flashback that continued off of the conversation Arei and David had that Ace overheard?

David thought back on that moment when Arei confided in him that she was relieved they were the same and that maybe they could be friends while learning to be less shitty together. He even lied to Eden that nothing else happened because he didn’t want to share that moment or possibly give despair to Eden about what happened between them.

Even before when he had his fake persona on, the way he reacted about Arei dying and in the trial of his feelings towards the killer…I feel like it’s one of the rare times he’s being genuine about his feelings here. Arei was someone who understood him and could’ve helped him as a friend…to only lose her the next day. Of course, he’d be pissed and upset. I can even believe he did see her first because in disbelief or upset that he lost the only person who truly knew and understood him. Following I wrote out the dialogue word for word of the scene where David describes how Arei could’ve fallen for the note, him showing disgust for the killer, and even Eden showing regret in thinking this(which before we thought was just about the note, but now…she might’ve meant that as “I killed Arei and all she wanted to do was change…but I didn’t give her that chance….it is my fault”).

David: What kind of person would fall for such an obvious trap? You’d have to be shortsighted, naive, foolish, senseless, downright idiotic.. Unless, of course, you were Arei

David: That girl wanted desperately to prove herself as a “friend” to Eden. And yet she completely lacked any experience with what “friends” were actually like.

David: Of course it never occurred to her that handling out suspicious notes was something that normal people did. What could she know about “friendship” after all? Someone like her, who had not once experienced kindness in entire her life up until now?

David: Even if she had her misgivings about something so suspicious, she must have pushed it aside due to her unwavering faith in her blossoming friendship. A friendship that she didn’t understand in the slightest.

David: It’s…it’s so…Ahaha. It’s just so foolish. For someone to take advantage of Arei like that….

David: It’s absolutely unforgivable. All she wanted was to change. What a reprehensible person this killer is. I look forward to seeing their painful execution.

Eden: …So then…It really is my fault…isn’t it? She died because she believed in me

With David’s expression throughout this entire scene even if this was before he revealed his true colors. It shows signs of his true self and how much he really loathes the person who killed Arei. He knows personally that she wanted to change and that she understood him. There’s no way by now he’s making it up that he didn’t see her body with knowing how much emotion he has in his facial expression and dialogue in this scene. It also really doesn’t help Eden’s case of seeming so regretful after this.

Reason 5: The theme of the chapter overall

Okay, so I think ultimately to me at least, why it doesn’t seem like Ace would fit as the culprit of this chapter is due to its theme. The theme is “There are no good or bad people” and “Everyone is not always what they seem”. We see throughout this chapter that every character we thought was a “good person” is slowly showing their flaws and even turning out to have some darkness in them.

We thought Levi was just an awkward guy who wanted to be helpful to others around him, turns out he killed 4 people(one is his dad) and barely remembers it because no one he cares about as the concept of caring for others is foreign to him and he just tries to copies others to try to be good. Nico seems like a shy person who struggles to defend themself from bullies like Ace. Nico then literally tries to murder Ace and almost does, while admitting(with regret) that they did try to kill Ace because Ace reminded them of their traumatic past with their peers, teachers, and father. David is the biggest example of someone we thought cared about giving inspirational speeches to others to turn out to be a manipulative jerk who might be suffering from depression(if he was telling the truth which I think he was to some extent). Even others had their moments too with Arturo being revealed to have guilt over his sister dying because he left and threatening Eden to keep it secret, Veronika only doing her talent to prevent herself from self-harming her, and even Hu showing her flaws of trying to be useful and letting her ego get the best of her in defending the wrong people.

So looking at both of our two culprits, Eden fits to be the main culprit. Before all of the reveals and Arei’s revelation about good and bad, I felt like the characters were categorized into two groups. The “Saints/Good people” and “The jerks/irredeemable ones”. Like what Arei said, she thought people like Eden and David were the ideal good people to look up to or to be, while someone like her who had a rough start and ended up as a jerk cannot ever be good. To assume that means not seeing any of the other cast people as people generally can either be good or bad or even neither(morally grey).

We see the flaws of who we thought was the ideal good or potentially good person of David, Hu, Nico, or Levi while seeing there’s more than what meets the eye to the jerk group of Arturo, Ace, and Arei(the triple A battery squad lol). Eden is the only person left in the cast we haven’t seen(not counting her being responsible for Xander’s eye as only us the audience seen that) whose main flaws or her status as a good person is broken. I’m not saying Eden has to be the culprit to reveal she was secretly evil all this time! But she has to be the culprit because she has yet to be shown as human as Arei is. Ace started as a jerk and while still is, we get hints and see how his situation is a tragic one. Like Arei, he probably had a bad start in life or before this killing game that affected him. His worst enemies are himself and the others, he has no one to defend his side for who he is to them. Despite the fact, that he’s a victim of an almost murder attempt on his life and even a victim of an eating disorder that is eating away from his body and mind. Ace unlike Eden or Nico doesn’t have someone willing to defend him or speak up for him when in trouble. The one person he did think he had was Levi, but that was just a projection.

Eden on the other hand I feel like what’s not talked about her is her main flaw of being “weak” and relying on others.

Examples:

▪️Ep 9 when Eden says “Teruko! Back me up!” “You’re smart and you always know what evidence to use during the class trial so find a way to show everyone they’re wrong about Arei!” “Please! I’m relying on you!”

▪️Ep 10 when Eden says “If I was strong enough…If I didn’t need Arei to help me…” and Arei saying “Just as I thought, you’re pathetic and weak, and you always need to rely on others to get by”

In a sense, this parallels Nico who attempted to murk Ace because others had to pick up their battle and Ace called them weak for not being able to stand up for themselves. Eden for all we know might’ve gone through the same thing when Arei yelled at her and it resulted in her planning Arei’s demise. Like Nico, she probably regrets it now. But unlike them, Eden isn’t admitting to this flaw of being the cause of this situation and is trying to rely on others like Teruko to defend her from being accused of Arei’s murder. Even down to doing the same hug that Min did to Teruko previous chapter.

Another point to add is that with the previous points showing a bit of Eden showing guilt. I can possible see her main motive of killing Arei is because of not believing her at the time. Even Arei notes this in ep10

Arei: That look you’re giving me…You don’t believe me, do you? Figures.

Arei: I’ve been so shitty and manipulative this whole time. It’s only fair that you think I’m only putting on another fake act to make people like me.

Ultimately to fit what Arei said even someone as sickeningly sweet as Eden had done something bad, which makes her human. Eden I feel has to be the culprit as what would Ace fit in this? It would just feel like Arei’s words meant nothing and Ace was the irredeemable jerk the whole time who “got what he deserved” despite not having anyone to reach out to him like David did for Arei.

Hooboy that was long. Like I say this may not be perfect in terms of defense of Ace and might not fully cement Eden as the culprit. For all we know, there could be a secret third option. Plus there still isn’t a full explanation for some parts like how both parties got the turpentine or Eden’s stalker(tbh tho I could just see her being paranoid it’s Arturo and Bro is stalking J so). But I just wanted to share my piece as I think part 2 of ch.2 did make me see Ace in a different light and Eden too, to where I wanted to at least give Ace a defense the best I could because he doesn’t have anyone on his side. Along with highlight parts of Eden’s character I feel needs adjust for why she could be the culprit. Anyway, might make more post stuff on analyzing Ace or other parts of the case. If you have any thoughts, share them! As long we’re all civil and just having fun with this tragically emotional case, I’m happy to hear others' thoughts on who dunnit. Thanks for reading!^^