#dramatically throwing myself onto my bed to wallow

[problemeule]

once again academically challenged by my academically challenging degree

[ham1lton]

WELCOME TO MIAMI

pairings: (platonic) oscar piastri x reader.

summary: after the miami grand prix, you and some of your fellow drivers go out for karaoke and drinks for ‘bonding’ according to a certain lando norris.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and strip clubs. also you pretend to be oscar’s wife and there is mentions of alleged infidelity but it’s obviously fake.

author’s note: this is slightly long but i promise you it’s worth the read. this is my apology for being inactive due to uni so let me know if you enjoyed! also i made the meme at the end and i’m proud of myself so cheer me on :D

— part of the maneater series ꕤ.

“i’m just not in the mood lando.” you throw yourself onto your very comfortable hotel bed. the sheets were soft and pillowy, are these thousand thread sheets? you don’t know what they were but they sound fancy. you flip yourself onto your back. “karaoke sounds awful right now. i need to be alone to drown my sorrows.”

“don’t be so dramatic y/n.” you can practically hear george’s eyeroll through the phone. he’s snatched lando’s phone for himself now. “this’ll be good for you.”

“i lost embarrassingly to max, it was the worst race of my entire career! i don’t deserve to celebrate or have fun.”

“you got p4.” george’s voice is deadpan. “get out of your hotel room, stop wallowing and i’ll get logan to pick you up.”

“why me?” logan asks in the background. “get an uber maneater!”

“she won’t come if no one forces her!” he’s right, you think bitterly. you would have ignored the uber even if the driver came up to your hotel room door and knocked five times. even if he opened the door and threw a bucket of cold water on your head and then threatened oscar’s life.

you knew why logan had to be the one to pick you up. it couldn’t be george. he’s annoyed you recently. he beat you to getting the podium today. it couldn’t be lando because he’s supporting george’s antics of dragging you out. it couldn’t be alex because he didn’t text his girlfriend to ask her about where she got her cute t-shirt that she wore on his recent instagram dump. you really liked that t-shirt. “logan is on his way. we’re giving you thirty minutes and if you’re not outside, i’m calling sebastian.”

“NO!”

“YES!” before you can try and rebuttal his statement, he’s hung up on you. well, there is no way you’re going out so george russell and his clique can shove that up their asses. you open netflix, and get yourself ready for a quiet night in.

one hour later, you found yourself at the karaoke bar that the guys had rented out for the night. logan running up to you, swinging the car’s rental keys around his fingers.

“i want you to know,” you breathed out, giving him the side-eye. “i hate this. i truly do.”

“i know.” logan nodded.

“i hate you.”

“know that too.” logan nodded again. “which isn’t fair really. this isn’t my fault.”

“fine. i hate you and all of them.” you gestured at the karaoke bar where lando had already gotten a few shots in his system and was belting out a britney song. “god. this is a bastardisation of a classic.”

“you know lando.” logan shrugged, opening the door for you. “after you.”

“since when were you a gentleman?”

“since i was about 76% sure that if you didn’t go before me, you’d order an uber and go straight back to the hotel.”

“i was thinking that.”

george is already slightly drunk when he spots you, opening his arms wide at your entrance. alex is sipping on a bottle of imported beer. very pretentious.

“maneater!” george grins. “the party don’t start till she walks in!”

oscar looks like he’s already regretting this. oscar and you had been best friends ever since you realised you both had a low tolerance for bullshit. you roll your eyes at george who pretends to pout but uses it as an excuse to order more shots.

“did they drag you out too?” oscar nods, like every movement pains him. “you want something to drink?”

“no. i’m hungry.”

“i think the only place open right now besides here is a strip club.”

“they have food?”

“let’s google.” after a few searches on your phone you find out the strip club has a menu. “apparently they serve chicken wings and fries.”

“let’s go.”

“wait!” you grab oscar’s arm. “you can’t go to a strip club! think about the optics or something. the media will spin it like ‘crazy f1 sex-addicted rookie’. is that what you want your legacy to be?”

“i won’t have a legacy if i starve to death.” oscar rolls his eyes. then he turns to logan. “throw me your rental keys logan, maneater and i are going to the drive-thru.”

“no.” george says sternly. as sternly as one can be while slightly drunk and a shirt that loses a button every ten minutes. how was it looser than it was two seconds ago? “you can’t leave. if you leave, you won’t come back.”

“okay?” oscar raised an eyebrow. “we’re grown george. you can’t keep us here.”

“one song and you can go.”

“that’s ridiculous.”

“one song. that’s all i’m asking.” george raises his hands. “then you can leave. unless, you’re too chicken.”

“i’m very much chicken. bye.” oscar gets up to leave before you stop him.

“c’mon. one song isn’t a bad compromise and we’re already here.” you shrug. “might as well.”

“you can do it. i’ll watch.” you stick your tongue out at oscar’s reluctance.

“lando, will you do it with me?”

“sure as long as i’m choosing the song!” lando grins as oscar gives you both the side eye. you weren’t much of an adrenaline junkie off the track and in private, you were very different to the maneater persona you would show in public. lando chooses nelly furtado’s ‘promiscuous’ but he sings her parts and you sing timbaland’s. you kill it, if you do say so yourself.

as soon as you’re done, oscar holds up the keys to the rental that logan had brought you in and you follow him out on your search for dinner. as you and oscar make your way to the car, you realise that the only place open for food at this hour is, unfortunately, that strip club down the street.

"you're kidding, right?" oscar gives you a disbelieving look.

you shrug. "hey, they serve food and you’re hungry. desperate times call for desperate measures."

with a reluctant sigh, oscar unlocks the car and you both climb in. you arrive at the strip club, the neon lights flashing in the night. as you enter, you can't help but feel a little out of place amidst the scantily clad dancers and dimly lit atmosphere.

“we're not staying for the show," you say firmly to oscar as you approach the bar.

"i wasn’t trying to," oscar looks around warily.

the smell of greasy food wafts over from the corner where a small kitchen is tucked away.

"we're really doing this," you mutter to oscar as you make your way to the bar.

"yep," he replies, already scanning the menu for chicken wings.

before you can order, a vivacious stripper saunters over, batting her eyelashes at oscar. "hey there, handsome. looking for some company?"

oscar looks taken aback for a moment before he quickly recovers. "uh, actually, we’re just here for the food. we heard you do… food?"

the stripper arches an eyebrow skeptically. "sure you are hun. what's your story, then?"

you jump in, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "we’re... celebrating our anniversary! yeah, that’s it. we wanted to do something wild, and crazy and spontaneous."

oscar nods, playing along. "exactly. seven years together, can you believe it?"

“you look so young.”

“she keeps me young.” oscar winks and then immediately regrets it. he turns slightly pink.

the stripper eyes you both suspiciously. "hmm, anniversary, huh? and you're at a strip club?"

you nod enthusiastically. "yep! we’re... adventurous like that."

the stripper shakes her head, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh."

you turn to oscar, a mischievous glint in your eye before turning and pouting at the stripper. "he cheated on me, you know."

oscar’s eyes widen in confusion. "wait, what?"

you nod solemnly. "yeah, with my yoga instructor. can you believe it? i guess that’s what happens when you let another girl bend your man over.”

the stripper scoffs, shaking her head. "honey, now why would you take a cheater to a strip club? that's like taking a carnivore to the butchers.”

oscar jumps in, eager to exonerate his fake persona. "actually, she cheated on me too!"

the stripper raises an eyebrow. "oh, really?"

"yeah, with my dentist," oscar deadpans. “imagine how i felt… lying on the chair getting my tooth drilled into while my wife was at home getting a different hole drilled.”

“well, you cheated with the milkman!”

“he gave me something you never could.” oscar sniffs.

“milk?”

“no. love.”

“i’ll get that order started for you.” she gives you both the side-eye. “i’ll leave you two lovebirds with your marriage issues. you need anything else give one of us a shout.”

you and oscar turn to each other and laugh.

“DENTIST?” you giggle. “couldn’t you have picked a sexier profession for me to cheat on you with?”

oscar chuckles, shaking his head. "hey, a cheating dentist is funny."

“fair point. but a milkman? really?"

"i had to think fast!" oscar defends himself. "i didn’t get time to prepare."

"true," you agree, wiping away tears of laughter. "i just hope our story doesn't end up in the tabloids."

oscar shrugs. "eh, if it does, at least it'll be entertaining."

you both continue to joke and laugh as you wait for your food.

"who knew a trip to a strip club could be so much fun?" you smile as you eat. the food was good at least.

oscar grins back. "only with you, y/n. only with you."

afterwards, you go back to meet with logan, lando, alex and george at the karaoke spot. george is singing a dramatic duet with alex to the tune of lady gaga and beyoncé’s ‘telephone’. lando is grinning while filming and logan is just staring, like he’s watching a car crash. too grotesque to look at but too insane to look away.

george spots you and points dramatically, motioning for you to join them. you exchange a look with oscar, both of you knowing that you can't resist the call of the karaoke stage.

as you approach the group, you can't help but notice the absence of one key ingredient: a one direction song.

"hey guys," you say, catching their attention. "this is fun and all, but i think it's time we mix things up a bit."

george raises an eyebrow. "oh yeah? and what did you have in mind?"

"a one direction song," you declare with a grin. “in front of everyone.”

the boys exchange skeptical glances, clearly not convinced.

"we can't do that," logan protests. "it's too... cheesy."

"come on, logan," you coax, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "you owe me for dragging me here."

“that wasn’t even my decision!” logan sighs, knowing he's been cornered. "but i’ll do it, only if oscar does it too."

you turn to oscar, who looks less than thrilled at the prospect. "come on, oscar. remember that time you forgot my birthday?"

“i was in hospital! i had a reason!”

“still forgot it!”

oscar groans. "fine, i’ll do it. but this better not end up on the internet."

you turn to george and alex, who are watching the exchange with amusement. "you guys in?"

george grins. "i'm always up for a challenge."

alex nods in agreement. "sure, why not? carpe diem and all that.”

lando, of course, is already on board. "let's do it! who’s who?”

“i’ve already thought about it. here me out.” you start. “lando is harry, curly haired and british.”

lando fist-bumps you.

“alex is zayn.”

alex rolls his eyes. “because i’m an asian brit too?”

“okay i didn’t think about that but it kind of fits.” you think. “i meant it because zayn’s obviously the best.”

alex grins, obviously pleased with the flattery. george stares at you, impatiently tapping his foot.

“hurry it up y/n. who am i?”

“liam.” george thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs. “he’s the leader of the group and you created our groupchat and this meetup.”

“i can deal with that.”

“oscar is louis because he has the least amount of lines and i thought he’d appreciate that.” oscar smiles. “logan is niall because… blond.”

“how come they all got actual thought put in to theirs and i’m niall because i’m blond?” logan raises an eyebrow.

“blond was the best i could do on short-notice.” you shrug. “but hey, he’s irish! who doesn’t love the irish?”

“fair point.”

you move over to the machine and start to play ‘kiss you’ by one direction. as the familiar beats fill the karaoke bar, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement. this is going to be epic, whether oscar likes it or not.

oscar, looking less than thrilled, reluctantly takes his place on stage, shooting you a glare that says, "you owe me big time for this."

logan, standing awkwardly beside him, shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to being the center of attention. you give him an encouraging smile, silently urging him to embrace the moment. you’re only a f1 driver/one direction cosplayer once, right?

lando, fully embracing his role as harry, struts to the front of the stage, oozing charisma and charm. alex, begrudgingly accepting his role as zayn, follows suit, trying his best to channel the brooding bad boy persona.

george, ever the showman, takes center stage as liam, belting out the lyrics with gusto. despite his initial reluctance, even oscar starts to get into the groove.

as for logan, well, he may not be the most enthusiastic performer, but he's giving it his all, his awkwardness somehow adding to the charm of the performance.

you, meanwhile, stand off to the side, phone in hand, filming the entire spectacle. this is going straight to your social media, no doubt about it.

as the song reaches its climax, the entire group comes together in perfect harmony, their voices blending seamlessly as they sing their hearts out. it may not be the most polished performance, but it's definitely one for the books. as the final notes fade away, the bar erupts into cheers and applause, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy as your friends amble off the stage and you all head out into the cool night.

liked by bestie1, logan.priv and 32 others.

maneater.priv: shoutout miami for having so many foreign babes 😋

view 34 comments.

bestie1: who are the foreign babes you speak of? i just see a bunch of white dudes and alex.

-> maneater.priv: um actually we have many 🤨 lando and george r british, alex is thai and british and oscar is aussie 😋 in america, they all foreign and logan may not be foreign but he’s a babe.

-> logan.priv: nicest y/n comment. possibly the y/n comment of all time actually.

oscar.priv: delete the last slide.

alex.priv: lily said she’s gonna text you the link to that shirt you liked.

-> maneater.priv: i knew i liked you for a reason.

oscar.priv: i know you see these (your full government name). DELETE.

lando.priv: how did you go to a strip club with oscar before me??

-> maneater.priv: me, u and vegas. we’ll go crazy.

-> lando.priv: YIPPEEE 😁😁

oscar.priv: blocking you btw.

george.priv: told u that you’d have fun!!!

-> maneater.priv: sorry i can’t agree with a man. ruins my street cred.

-> george.priv: what street cred?

-> maneater.priv: DELETE!!!!

-> oscar.priv: speaking of things that need to be deleted… delete the last slide 🙄

-> maneater.priv: no :D

oscar.priv: how would u feel if i shipped u with another driver?

-> maneater.priv: that depends… is he a hot one?

-> oscar.priv: no.

-> lando.priv: 😔

-> george.priv: stop being mean to lando oscar.priv.

-> oscar.priv: he deserves it.

-> george.priv: 213.40.205.53

-> oscar.priv: i hate it here.

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter here! You can also send me an ask to be added to/removed from the taglist.

permanent taglist; @pervhotch @spenxerslut @donald4spiderman @measure-in-pain @thatonezesty13 (check your visibility settings!) @jswessie187 @kuolonsyoja @idonotexiste

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

socks, penguins, and dinosaurs

summary: you and spencer are roommates, both living in the same apartment as you’re on your way to obtaining your MD and Spencer applying to be a part of the bau. although, despite the germaphobe spencer is, he seems to love leaving his clothes everywhere

word count: 1,081                                                                                               reading time aprox: 4 mins

masterlist

Clothes were piled up on the floor, various colors of t-shirts and blouses littered every inch of the apartment I shared with Spencer. Sifting through the mess, I began picking up all the soiled clothes and placing them at their appropriate places, gagging as diverse scents infiltrated my nose. 

I sighed, scratching the back of my neck as I witnessed the amount of laundry I would have to do. I huffed all the way back to my room, taking a peek at Spencer’s, only to notice that he wasn’t present at the moment. 

He better have went to go grocery shopping or else that IQ of his won’t be saving him from the slap on the forehead I’m about to give him. 

I dramatically tossed myself onto the sheets of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with crossed arms. I tossed and turned as I laid sprawled and tangled up in my covers, accidently kicking throw pillows off to the side. 

I can’t seem to get some warmth with whatever I do. 

I groaned in frustration, rubbing the palms of my hands on my arms in attempt to generate some sort of heat. I stood back up to look at the thermometer and noticed that it was 60 degrees in the room. I dragged myself up to my dresser, scrummaging through the mess in a haste in attempt to find warmer clothing. I grabbed an oversized turtleneck, another pair of sweatpants, and some winter mittens. While searching for a fuzzy pair of socks, I realized all of my pairs were in the laundry. 

“For the sake of everything living” I cursed at myself, wallowing in defeat and discomfort while waddling back to the layers of my comforter. 

That’s when it hit me.

My eyes sprung open as I leaped out of the bed, walking towards the hall where Spencer’s bedroom was. I creeped keeping an eye out for him, knowing he could be home any moment. With agile and delicate footsteps, I snuck into Spencer’s room, waving hi to Casper, Spencer’s cat, that peered at me from his bookshelves filled with science fiction novels. 

I combed through his dresser, foraging for any pairs of socks. Although, there were only piles of sweater vests and his Doctor Who t-shirts that he wore to sleep. After a while of rummaging through his belongings, I finally found his sock drawer, only to find that not a single one matched. 

His drawer was up to the brim with an array of patterns from solid colors to one with zigzags and dinosaurs on them. 

For a 23 year old man, you wouldn’t think he’d still have dinosaurs on his socks.

I laughed to myself, pulling out an orange sock with penguins printed on them and the same dinosaur sock that I poked fun at. 

I wonder what patterns he has on his underwe- Nope, no, not going to think about that. That’s for a different time. 

I cringed at the thought, sliding on the mismatched pair of socks, smiling as I wiggled my toes, making the little penguins and dinosaurs dance harmoniously as I sat on his bed. 

I looked over at Casper, only for him to be staring at me as well. “What do you think Casper?” I looked down at my feet, referring to the socks, earning a small meow from Casper. 

“You know Casper, you seriously need to pee on at least 50% of Spencer’s socks so he can finally go out and buy some new on-”

I was cut off by a loud bang, making me yelp in surprise and tumble off of Spencer’s bed. While getting up, I saw a head of hair peep into the room. Turns out that head of hair was Spencer. 

“Hey, are you okay Y/N?’ 

Concern was evident in his tone, until his eyes landed on me and the attire I had on. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion until he noticed the mittens I had worn in my hands. He let out a chuckle shaking his head as Casper jumped off from his post, startling me also. 

“Do I wanna know?” Spencer asked, peering at me with a playful condescending smirk, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Oh shut up, you celery stick” I sneered. “You know for a germaphobe, you sure like to leave your clothes laying around” I declared, shooting him a judgemental glare, making the smirk on his face grow. 

He walked over to his bed, plopping himself down next to me as he placed his satchel on the floor. “I don’t wanna know the story Y/L/N. If it makes you feel any bet- Wait, is...are those my socks?” He glanced down at my feet, snickering as he noticed the dinosaurs and penguins. “So you’ve started stealing all my socks now”.

I let out a dissatisfied groan, shoving a throw pillow onto my face, not wanting to give Spencer the satisfaction of seeing embarrassment visible in my expression. 

“It’s kinda cute” He confessed, grabbing the pillow that I desperately hid my face in and tossing it aside. “Although, you do need to shave your cankles, it’s starting to look like mine” He teased, earning a swift knock to the head from me. 

“Shut up Spence” I sighed, letting my eyes close and letting Spencer’s covers engulf me. “How was your day anyway?” I questioned, turning to look at him. 

“Good...my application went through” He replied, not taking his eyes off of the ceiling as we lay in his bed sideways. 

“What went through?”

“My application to the BAU, I just got a call from one of the head agents, Aaron Hotchner and told me to be there Monday morning” He confessed. 

I jumped up in excitement, making the bed sway in different directions. “No fucking way Spence, really?” I shrieked, grabbing his arm and waving it around in excitement. He laughed at my childlike manner, sitting straight up to continue observing my reaction. 

“Do you know this means that we’re going to have to get you some regular socks now, right agent Spence?” I suggested.

“You know that’s never going to happen and it’s Doctor” He retorted

I sighed leaning my head onto his shoulder, watching Casper walk through the crack between the door and the doorframe. A half smile etched onto my lips as I thought about the many doors this opportunity opens up for Spencer. 

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah”

“Are there dinosaurs and penguins on your underwear too?” 

[bisexualbuck]

Firefam Prompt: During Athena's suspension, she's alone at home while the kids are at Michael's. At the firehouse, Buck is sick but tries to make it through his 24 hr-shift with no fuss. Bobby eventually has to send him home but doesn't want him to be alone. With the rest of the team (and Maddie) in the middle of a shift, he sends Buck home with the one person who he knows is free; Athena. She did say she "needed to do something..." (maybe firefam goes to the Grant/Nash house later for a visit?)

[Read on AO3]

“No.”

“Bobby, I’m fine – ”

“You’re not working today, and that’s it. End of discussion.”

Hen gives Buck a look that reads are you even surprised and why the hell did you even bother to show up and Buck throws his uniform shirt at her. It misses her by several feet.

Buck does not pout.

“I can work, Cap’,” he tries again. He knows it’s a lost cause but he has never known when to give up.

“What did I just say? Didn’t I just say end of discussion?”

It’s such a dad thing to say that it has Buck wincing in shame before he remembers that, as much as he’d want to, Bobby isn’t his dad.

Huh. Weird thought to have. Of course Bobby isn’t his dad.

Okay, so maybe his mind feels foggy and slow, and his whole body aches, andhis throat is drier than Death Valley in the summer. But that doesn’t mean he can’t work.

Does it?

His gaze falls on Eddie who is doing nothing to hide his worry at his boyfriend’s weakened state, and he sighs in frustration.

He hates being sick. He hates missing work, he is always terrified that one day day, he will slack up too much and then he will be left behind. The world will move on without him.

“You’re definitely hot,” Chim says as he puts his hand to Buck’s forehead.

Buck did not even notice him approaching. That alone tells him that he is no condition to do his job and ugh, why did he have to get sick?

“Coming on to me, Chim? What will Maddie say?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Can Maddie come pick you up?” Bobby asks, though it’s kind.

Buck shakes his head. Black dots start dancing in his eyes as he does, andhe has to hold himself onto Chim until the wave of dizziness passes. Whenit does, he sees that his team is surrounding him, having stepped closer to him.

Eddie is by his side, his arm wrapped around Buck, and his boyfriend’s thumb has slipped under his shirt to caress his skin in a comforting movement.

“She’s working until 10pm,” Chim answers for him when it’s clear Buck won’t.

“I can stay by myself,” Buck protests – weakly.

“No you can’t,” Hen says. “We’re all working, and it’s not like you have other friends.”

“Hey. That’s not true. I have friends.”

“I love you but you really don’t.”

Now, Buck is pouting. Sure it’s true, but he doesn’t like it being said like that. Likethey can joke about it while they are the only people he has in the world besides his sister.

They are all looking at him with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks, defensive.

He feels raw in a way he can only explain by the fever he is running, and worse than he did this morning. He is barely standing up and he knows, though he won’t say it out loud, that he would have fallen over were it not for Chim and Eddie holding him up.

“Are you – oh my God, you’re crying.”

Buck puts his hand up to his cheek, and stares in confusion at the wetness on his fingers. The effects of the medicine he took earlier are wearing off, he feels himself getting weaker.

“Alright everyone,” Bobby intervenes. “Buck, you’re not working today. Athena is still off work right now and she’s going to come pick you up.”

Defeated, tired, Buck can only nod.

He really hates being sick.

.

To say that Athena is surprised by Bobby’s request of babysitting Buck would be an understatement. She isn’t surprised that he called it babysitting, but she is surprised that Buck agreed with the idea of her picking him from the station and spending the day with her.

When she sees the state he’s in, she understands.

He wasn’t left a choice at all.

“Buckaroo, did you really think you could work today?”

“Wasn’t that bad when I woke up,” he mumbles, and sure, she totally believes it.

The team isn’t here, they are gone on a call. She thinks about waiting for them but she does not know how long it will be before they get back, and Buck looks dejected enough as it is without having to hear about what he’s missed on the job.

“Come on, Buck. Don’t make me carry you to the car.”

“You couldn’t,” he says as he gets up.

She only raises one eyebrow at him. He squirms a little under her gaze and she has to fight off a smile.

“You could?” he asks, a little lost.

“Do you want to find out?”

Apparently he does not because he follows her down the stairs and to her car. He is half-asleep by the time they get to her house. Thankfully, neither of them have to find out if Athena truly can carry him.

.

She has to admit that Buck isn’t that bad of a patient. He mostly just lays on the couch, under an impossible amount of blankets, and either sleeps his cold off or watches TV.

These past few days on suspension have been hard on her. Solving Emmett’s murder has brought up a lot of buried memories, but she has been healing – at long last. She had bottled up her feelings for the death of her fiancé for so long that letting it out can only be a painful process.

A process nonetheless, that Athena does not have to undertake by herself.

Bobby has been her rock, of course, but not only him. Michael, Hen, her kids too – they all have been there for her in their own way and she is so grateful for it.

She can’t wait to go back to work. Working has always been a way for her to put her feelings asides for a greater cause, to feel useful and needed.

Buck groans on the couch, and her attentions shifts on him. His eyes flutter open but they don’t see her, instead focusing on nothing. His cheeks are flushed red from the fever, he looks miles away from his own body, lost, almost like a child.

“You’re alright there, Buckaroo?”

He starts lightly at the sound of her voice, his gaze finally finding her, but not seeing her.

“Mom?”

Her breath catches in her throat but then, she softens at the sight he makes, disoriented and lost, but trusting, like he knows despite the confusion of not even knowing what is happening or where he is, that he is safe.

“Not quite,” she replies softly.

“Oh, Athena.” He blinks a few times. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Let me get you some water.”

He only hums in answer, his eyes already closing again. She hurries to get him a glass and a Tylenol before he falls back asleep.

“Here, get up. Take this.”

His movements are sluggish as he gets up but he does it by himself. She puts her hand on his forehead, his fever is still high but he should be back to normal in a few days. He swallows the pill and she urges him to down the whole drink before getting the glass back.

“I’m sorry to be a burden,” Buck whispers, eyes glossy. “I don’t mean to.”

Athena is seized by the sudden need to search after every person who has ever made Buck feel like he was a burden. She has had her issues with him in the beginning, but even then, she had seen the fire in him.

Now that she knows him, she knows how deeply he loves, how bright he burns, how far he is willing to go to help, not just those he loves, but anyone who may need it. She also knows that, behind his jokes and smiles, lays a sensitive man that isn’t always sure of his worth.

She comes to sit next to him, manhandling him into laying back down and so that his head rests on her tight, the way May or Harry would when they get sick. Her hand finds itself  soothing his curls, she smiles down at his so very blue eyes, wide and fixed on her.

“You’re not a burden, Evan Buckley. You’ve never been.”

He blinks up a her. A soft, almost timid, smile appears on his lips.

“You can’t say I’m a very fun guest to have around though.”

She flicks him on the nose and laughs at his outraged reaction.

“Believe it or not,” she says, “but I was going crazy doing nothing. This is a welcomed distraction. Also, I’d rather you be here than at your place, wallowing in your own misery. At least I can keep an eye on you. We can never be sure with you that you won’t find a way to end up in the hospital – again.”

“I love you.”

His eyes widen dramatically like he never meant to say it out loud.

“I love you too, Buckaroo,” she tells him, gentle, before he can have a heart attack on her.

“Oh.”

He gives her a blinding smile, a little goofy. His eyes shine a little too bright but she won’t mention it, will blame it on the fever.

“You know,” she says, “a man your age has no business being this cute.”

He frowns, “Sorry?”

“Get back to sleep, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes already closed.

In seconds, his breathing has slowed and he is fast asleep. True to her words, she does not move away, she leaves her hand in his hair and at some point, she falls asleep too.

.

“Any news from Athena?” Hen asks when they get back to the station after their last call of their shift.

“She texted me an hour ago telling me that everything is alright,” Bobby answers. “Buck’s been sleeping the day away.”

“God, I wish that were me,” Chim groans, still covered in grim from the fire they have just put out. “I’m taking a shower and then I’m out of here and you won’t hear from me for two weeks.”

“You’ve got a shift tomorrow,” Bobby reminds him, amused at his friend’s antics.

“I’m not hearing it! Bye everyone!”

They laugh as he all but runs to the showers but they are quick to follow him. Nothing crazy happened on their shift, but it was still long and exhausting and they all want to be gone from the station.

Eddie too wants nothing but to run back to his place, spend some time with Christopher before it’s time for bed, eat dinner together and maybe watch a movie.

Instead, he sends a quick text to Carla telling her he will be a little late and waits for his Captain.

“I’ll be right behind you to pick Buck up from your place.”

“He can spend the night with Athena and I,” Bobby says. “It’s not a problem.”

“Christopher will be heartbroken if I come home without his Buck.”

Eddie smiles softly as he imagines the scene. He loves how much Christopher and Buck adore each other, that’s one of the many things that made Eddie fall for Buck – how big his heart is and how selflessly he loves.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Bobby asks and Eddie knows he isn’t talking about Christopher.

“I do.”

Bobby smiles and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “I’m happy for you two. You deserve that happiness.”

“Thanks, Cap’.”

.

Both men arrive at the Grant-Nash’s household to find Buck laying on Athena’s lap. Her hand is still placed on his head, a comforting but also protective gesture.

Buck doesn’t look as flushed as he had at the firehouse, and he is wearing a small smile even in his sleep.

Neither Buck or Athena wake up at the arrival and, without even consulting one another, both Bobby and Eddie snap a picture of the scene.

It’s their quiet laughter that wake Athena up but she does not look to bothered by that fact if her soft look at the man laying on her lap is any indication.

.

Best Captain sent a picture

Queen Hen: oh my god

Queen Hen: just so you know I AM framing this

Chim-Chim-Chimney: Bobby rip.. Athena is going to murder you

No Nickname Eddie: I thought we weren’t gonna hear from you for two weeks

Chim-Chim-Chimney: blocked

.

Hen does have the best ideas.

That picture gets printed and framed by a few people.

(Buck maybe tears up a bit when he notices it sitting among pictures of May and Henry at Bobby and Athena’s place.)

[forever-rogue]

The Edge of Thirty - Part 9

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.  

A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading and supporting this story. I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: None...plot twist?

MASTERLIST

The next few weeks were spent in an isolated haze, where days blurred into nights and time became a thing that was completely irrelevant. Nothing seemed to matter anymore; she was basically out of a job, and Gwilym was out of her life, for good this time. What was the point to getting up and pretending things were okay when they were anything but?

After their altercation at Lucy and Rami’s wedding, Y/N had made a swift getaway, as Ben went and told everyone she had become overcome with sickness. No one needed to know that Y/N and Gwilym had left separately in moods that were a mixture of anger and hurt. She wanted nothing more than to feel sorry for herself and to be angry with Ben for letting her secret slip, and to be angry with Gwilym for how he reacted.

But she couldn’t. She only blamed herself. So she spent the next several weeks wallowing in misery and self pity, refusing to leave the house unless absolutely necessary. The only company she kept besides misery was Deacon, who seemed to understand her sorrow, barely leaving her side as he smothered her in extra kisses and cuddles. It was just the two of them against the world, as it had always been.

Stretching her arms over head and relishing in the popping and cracking of her joints, Y/N slowly got up from her spot on the couch, in search of something to eat. She’d spent the last several hours in front of the television, giving in to hype and finally watching Lucifer. It had been fairly captivating, at least enough to where her mind was occupied and not every thought was consumed by Gwil.

Deacon huffed in annoyance from the couch, where he was currently wrapped up in a bundle of blankets, as her phone started to vibrate, sliding around on the soft cloth of the sofa. Sighing lightly, she trudged back into the living room, swiping up and seeing that it was Ben, calling for his usual daily chat. He’d made it a habit and a point to call and check in on her everyday, even if she wasn’t the most over joyous about it. Sometimes she’d just put it on speaker and let him carry on, not giving much input except for a few words here and there.

“Hello my good man,” she answered, putting the phone on speaker as she rummaged through the cabinets, in search of anything of sustenance, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your call today?”

“Very funny, love,” Ben’s voice was between a chuckle and a sigh, “just calling to see how you were. Do anything interesting today? How’s my favorite pup?”

“Your favorite pup is okay, he’s a little annoyed that his afternoon nap has been disturbed,” she glanced over at Deacon who gave her a dismal look before tucking his nose back under the cover, “Deacs, Ben loves you! And he’s going to come and see you soon.”

“Oooh, when can I come over?” he asked eagerly, and Y/N wondered for a moment if he was more excited to see her or the dog. After a few little more searching, she gave up on her crusade, giving into the fact that there was nothing decent to eat in the entirety of kitchen, “I miss you both.”

“I miss you too Benny, but it’s only been like two weeks,” she sighed, leaning against the counter, “besides I’m coming back to work on Monday, so like two more days. I’d wager you could survive without me until then, but unfortunately it appears I need you.”

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” she could tell he was on the edge of his seat at her words and decided that she probably could have chosen a better set of words, “are you okay?”

“Calm down, love, calm down,” she reassured him, snickering a little bit, “I’m out of food and I need to go to the store. I don’t want to go by myself, and I could use the company.”

“I’ll be over in ten,” he said, hanging up the call without another word. Y/N chuckled, her heart feeling a little lighter than it had the last two weeks at the prospect of seeing her best friend. She had missed him much more than she had thought, secluding herself in exile while she tried to straighten her own head out. It was lonely at times, and after a while it seemed like even Deacon grew tired of her moping.

“See, you get what you always get what you want,” she told him and he just wagged his little tail at her, “be lucky everyone adores you so Deacon, just like your reclusive namesake.”

“Just how on earth have you been surviving?” Ben’s eyes were wide with questioning and amusement as he looked through the cabinets and fridge. Y/N gave him innocent eyes and shrugged, “when’s the last time you even left the apartment?”

“This-”

“And I don’t mean to take Deacon for a walk,” he cocked at eyebrow at her as he and Deacon exchanged glances, “like to do something, anything besides wallowing in self pity and rewatching the Office...again.”

“How long have Luce and Rami been married now?” she giggled nervously, rubbing her hand up and down her arm nervously. Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed dramatically.

“Oh, Y/N, you can’t just mope about forever,” he teased, nudging her side gently, “I know it’s hard right now, but it’s going to get better, I swear it. I know words are wind but trust me, you’re strong and you’ve gotten through so much. Oh, and text Becca and Tessa back, they’re tired of your one word answers - don’t shoot the messenger!”

“I know, Benny, I know,” she agreed, hanging her and nodding slightly, “I just wanted some time alone to get my head together and get all the sadness out of my system. I want to be ready to go back to work and have a clear head. And I’ll call them both back, okay? I don’t plan on shutting you out again.”

“H-have you heard from him at all?” he opted to tread lightly around the question, desperately wanting to know the answer, but not wanting her to retreat deeply into herself and shut him out. He did blame himself to an extent, having honestly believed that Gwilym was fully aware of everything regarding James.

“No,” she replied, letting the answer linger in the air for a few tense moments. Ben wondered if she was about to start an argument or go off on him, but she just leaned against the counter, folding her arms across her chest. A part of her had clung onto the hope that Gwil would soften and he’d give in eventually, but there had been nothing but radio silence from his end, “I’ve texted and called him a few times, but I haven’t heard anything back from him. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s not coming back.”

“There’s always hope, Y/N,” he put his large, strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She nodded, giving it only a moment before wrapping her arms around him and clinging onto him for dear life. No matter what happened between them, at least she always knew she could turn to him. She closed her eyes and held back her tears as best as she could, a few small sniffles escaping regardless, “it’s alright, love, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

“I just really am kicking myself over this one,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, “he was a good one, maybe the one. And I lost him, but it’ll be okay. Life goes on, and I will be okay. Besides, my focus is going to be on getting back into work and making sure I present the picture of perfection to Crickle. And Becca, she’s going to need us more the further along she gets. That’s plenty to occupy my mind and throw myself into.”

“You’ll be alright,” he promised her, kissing the side of her head gently, “you’re so strong, and wonderful, and you deserve the world.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as he pulled back from her, putting his hands on her shoulders, “what?”

“As much as I love sap and cheese,” he grinned at her, “I think it’s time we went to the store and got you some food. You’re living like a frat boy at this point.”

“I’d get mad at the assertion, but you present a fair point,” she agreed, “let’s go and get this over with before I change my mind and slink back into bed.”

“Ben, the cart’s more loaded with vegetables than anything else,” Y/N groaned as she looked at the colorful rainbow of fruits and vegetables that stared back at her. He looked at her pointedly and tilted his head to the side as if to ask so what, “you’ve gotta give me some leeway and let me have some junk food!”

“You’ve got a bag of crisps and cookies,” he pointed to the snacks at the very bottom of the cart, “and don’t even argue, that’s plenty of snacks! Besides, it’ll be good for you to get into cooking, and it’ll keep you busy in the evenings. You used to love cooking.”

“When I was young and carefree,” she rolled her eyes in fashion dramatic enough to make Freddie Mercury jealous before pouting at him and steering the cart towards the ice cream, “please let me have my microwave meals for one that I can eat in front of the television with a glass, or perhaps bottle of wine.”

“Why are you the way that you are?” he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as he shook his head at her, “you’re almost thirty-”

“Don’t remind me please-”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m stating facts!” he chided her, “you’re almost thirty and you can do a little more than just putting a meal in the microwave.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, as she started to look around at the various cartoons of ice cream, trying to narrow it down. She opened one of the cases and grabbed a couple of containers out, comparing them thoughtfully. Eventually selecting one, she added it to the cart before turning  back to him, “I’m going to be annoyed about it the whole time, but fine. I’ll try your recommendation.”

“You’re so dramatic, acting like I’m making you do something so horrible,” he stuck his tongue at her as he steered the cart, casting glances down the remaining aisles. He paused by the end, noting that it was hygiene products, “do you need anything else?”

“Actually,” she mused as she walked down the aisle, tapping her chin as she looked at the various shampoos and conditioners and body washes, “I do need a few things.”

“Aye, well, get on with it then,” he watched as she walking up and down, trying to narrow down her options. Making a quick selection wasn’t her strong suit, and he knew if he didn’t her a little bit, he’d be stuck there for another hour.

“Calm down there, Benny Boy,” she grabbed her usual items off of the shelf before turning around and coming face to face with the long row of tampons and pads. She put the shampoo and body wash into the cart, before deciding to stock up on some tampons since her period was due soon. Reaching over to grab her normal supply, she stopped, hand halfway raised as she realized she hadn’t needed any tampons in quite a while. A suspiciously long time...

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Ben noticed her hesitation, as she put her arm back down, an unreadable expression on her face, “Y/N?”

“I-I can’t remember the last time I got my period,” she whispered quietly, finally realizing what the words could mean. Ben’s eyes widened as he looked at her nervously, “oh fuck.”

“Y/N,” Ben’s voice barely reach her ears as she paced anxiously around the kitchen, tears of frustration running down her face. He reached out a hand to stop her, gripping onto her wrist tightly, “I know you’re nervous and anxious, but pacing won’t help.”

“How did this happen? How could I let this happen? We were always so careful,” she ran a hand through her messy hair feeling more exasperated than anything else. Why, why, why? Was the only thing running through her head. Why her? Why now?

“Whatever method of safe sex you practice is never completely fail-proof,” he hoped giving her the facts would help, but the glare he received in return suggested otherwise, “it happens to good people all the time. It’s just unfortunate that it happened to you. Which we’re still not positive it did.”

“In a few minutes we will be,” she took a peek at her watch, and noticed that it there just a few minutes left until she could check the multitude of tests that were sitting on the bathroom counter, “Ben, I was drinking during all of this! I could have already done so much damage because my dumb ass had no clue. What am I going to do? I-I don’t know if I could ever live with myself knowing I-I’d done something to this...maybe baby.”

“Right now all you can do is relax,” he suggested softly, “what’s done is done, you can’t go back and change anything now. I know that sounds harsh, but it is what it is.”

“I know,” she huffed as she started to walk to the bathroom, dragging him closely behind her, a trembling starting in her core, “this is just a bit of a huge surprise. But how did I not know? How could I have missed all the signs? I mean, my period’s normally like clockwork and I should have been more aware. I guess I just got so caught up with everything I wasn’t aware...”

“Whatever happens, just know that it will be okay, love. I’ll be here for you, we all will,” he ducked into the quiet, still bathroom before she could and swooped up all the tests before she could examine a single one of them. She threw her hands up and glared at him, “I’ll tell you what they say. You’re too worked up to be dealing with this right now.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed, flopping down the edge of the tub and holding her head in hers, letting out a long, drawn out breath, one that she hadn’t realized she had been holding in, “tell me, Dr. Jones, have I completely fucked up my life?”

“I think that’s a bit of a dramatic overstatement, don’t you think?” he tried to tease, but a smile hadn’t worked it’s way back onto her face. His own heart was thumping about wildly in his chest, as he realized the implication of the knowledge that currently only he held, “ready Freddie?”

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said nodded quietly, trying to keep what little composure she had left. Almost as if he knew she needed some comfort, Deacon made his way into the bathroom, his paws making soft sounds on the cool tile of the floor. He nudged her with his soft, pointed nose before sitting at her feet and leaning against her legs, “what a support system, my two favorites.”

“Well,” Ben said quietly, leaning against the bathroom counter, “this confirms what you already knew, or thought you knew. I think you’re going to have a call to make.”

“Oh no,” tears almost immediately started to run her face as Ben handed over one of the tests. She took a look at the plastic stick which clearly spelled out the word pregnant and ran a thumb over it, taking in a shaky breath, “what I am going to do?”

“I’d start by calling Gwilym,” he suggested quietly, and he could see her shoulders tense, “and then going to the doctor, and make a plan. I-I know it’s hard, but it’s important to be rational about all of this. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“You’re right, you’re completely right,” she set the test down and wiped the salty tears off of her cheeks, “there’s no time to lost in my head and feelings.”

“You’ll be okay,” he promised her, “you’ve been able to get through so much, you can get through this. There are other options you know, if you don’t want to have this baby.”

“I know, I just...don’t know how to feel or think about this right now,” she admitted, still trying to process the gravitas of the situation. It was hard enough for her to believe that there was a little person coexisting inside of her, a baby that would soon grow strong and large, “it’s just so surprising. How am I even going to tell Gwil? Hey, I know we ended things on a very bad note, but by the way I am actually pregnant. Remember when we joked about it, haha, turns out it wasn’t actually a joke. Not sure how well that’s going to go over. Do I text it to him or call him?”

“Y/N, I think we both know the answer to that one,” they exchanged a knowing look and the two of them laughed in spite of the grim situation. He raised an eyebrow at her and she gave him a small nod, “I know it’ll be hard to face him and tell him, but it’s what’s right.”

“Oooh, boy,” she sighed as she subconsciously placed a hand on her stomach, “this is going to be interesting. You know, I avoided this situation for years and yet here I am, almost thirty and going through it.”

“At least it was with someone you love,” he said as if it suddenly made everything better, “and not a stranger. Besides, Gwilym is a good man, I’m sure he’ll support you no matter what.”

“I hope you’re right,” she stood up and gripped the stick tightly, gnawing on her bottom lip so harshly she was sue the skin would break and blood bubble to the surface, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous before.I hate this, but it’s the reality of the situation.”

“Hey, we’re a team,” he said as he pulled her into a hug, “it’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, it will be okay, I promise you.”

“Pinky?” she asked quietly, putting her pinky finger out and waiting for him to twist his with hers.

“Pinky,” he concluded, wrapping her own finger around hers. It had become a tradition of theirs, and one neither of them would ever break. A pinky promise was basically an unbreakable vow, and these best friends never did that.

Monday morning had rolled around much faster than she had anticipated and she found herself more reluctant than anything else to go back to work. She thought she’d feel relieved, excited to see the young, bright faces of her students, but she felt almost none of these emotions, just a deep pit in the bottom of her stomach.

She didn’t know what the day would hold, but she wasn’t necessarily eager to find out. There was a nagging sensation that wouldn’t leave her alone, and she wished she could just crawl back into bed and watch Netflix with Deacon. But her three weeks were up, and she had to go back and face the music, and she if she still had a job. After a hazy three weeks, caught in between blissful moments and the heartbreaking situation that was her reality now.

As soon as she got into her classroom, she spied a cup of tea and a bagel sitting on her desk. There was no note, no indication of who it was from, but she immediately knew Ben had taken the time out to do this for her. A small smile worked its way onto her face and walked over, setting her bag down and gratefully grabbing the steaming cup, and taking a long swig of the piping liquid.

A knock came at her door, and she was ready to greet Ben with open arms, but her heart dropped when she saw that it wasn’t him, but Crickle instead. His expression was unreadable as he stepped into the room and regarded her curiously, taking in her appearance - she was glad she had put in the extra effort to present the picture of perfection.

“Good morning, Headmaster,” she plastered on a smile as the knot in her stomach seemed to tighten even more. He gave her a curt nod as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest as his gaze never wavered.

“Miss L/N,” he parroted quietly, “welcome back. I hope the last several weeks have treated you well. I hear congratulations are in order-”

“What?!” she blurted out as her heart started to race. How could he have found out so quickly? She hadn’t told anyone but Ben, and she knew he wouldn’t have told anyone.

“I believer your close friends just got married? Benjamin took a few days off for the festivities,” a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she realized her secret was safe for now.

“Oh, of course. It was a wonderful wedding indeed,” except for getting dumped by the love of life, “Lucy’s been our best friend since we were just children.”

“I’m sure it must have been just lovely,” he gave her a small smile, and it was the closest thing to a real expression of emotion she had ever seen from him, “I will let you get back to you, Miss L/N. You don’t have to worry about your position being in jeopardy - I spoke to your good friend and we’ve come to conclusion that you are a great fit here. I know your students are very eager to have you back. Especially young Ms. Lee, she’s been very excited for your return.”

“Thank you, sir,” she didn’t know if it was all the emotions, or perhaps her pregnancy was starting to hit her, but she felt a wash of feelings as she grabbed the back of her chair, “I’m...happy to be back. I’ve missed the lot of them as well.”

“Good luck,” he said quietly, giving her a small nod before making a quick exit from the room. If she didn’t know any better, she’d wager it was almost an attempt from him to be nice to her. She didn’t know where any of it was coming from, but she wasn’t about to complain or argue - she was willing to take whatever she could get at this point.

Reaching into the desk drawer, she pulled out her planner, hoping the substitute had left her some notes to go off of. If not, she’d have to wing and hope everything turned out well, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her kids wouldn’t mind easing back into a normal curriculum.

Looking at her notes, she heard a set of small footsteps echo through the room, and looked up to find Jenny standing there, wringing her hands nervously. Her heart melted at the sight of shy, sweet girl with the smile on her face. She stood up and leaned down, stretching out her arms to the young girl, “hi Jenny! I’ve missed you so much.”

Jenny almost fellow into her arms, wrapping them around Y/N as tightly as possible. Y/N felt more comforted than she had in a long from the hug, glad to see the smiling face of her favorite student.

“Miss L/N! I’m so happy you’re back,” she beamed at her, “the substitute has been no fun, and she didn’t have a cute dog either. You’re the best and we’ve been waiting for you to get back! Did you enjoy your vacation?”

“Vacation,” she let the word roll off of her tongue and didn’t like the bitter taste it left. She knew they wouldn’t tell a group of young kids that she was suspended, but to play it off like it was just a vacation seemed a little silly. But who was she to argue with them? She was finally back in Crickle’s good graces and she wasn’t about to slide back, “it was okay, my love bug. I missed you guys though, especially you, but don’t tell your classmates. It’ll be our little secret! Deacon missed you all, maybe on Friday I can bring him to class, how does that sound?”

“Deacon!” she shouted excitedly, pulling back as she clapped her little hands with excitement, “I can’t wait to see him again! I’ve been trying to convince my mum and dad to get a doggy now. Uncle Gwil’s helping too!”

“That’s lovely, Jenny,” her insides jolted at the sound of Gwil’s name. She had yet to go to him, but she knew she had to do it sooner rather than later. Sometime that week, she had determined would be the best. She just needed to gather up a little bit of courage, and hoped a little bit of bravado would accompany that, “I hope you’re able to get a doggy that you like.”

“Me too!” she giggled as she bounced to her set, while her classmates started to file into the classroom, smiles on their faces as they realized Y/N was back.

“Miss Y/N!” the sound of their cheerful voices was enough to bring her back to reality, as she looked at her bright eyes little faces.

“Hello my little loves,” she exclaimed as they all rushed up to give her hugs, throwing their little arms around her, as they welcomed her back. She had missed them terribly, more so than she had ever thought - that was enough to tell her that she had made the right decision to come back and not just give up on everything.

They all toddled to their seats, pulling out their notebooks and various writing instruments. Glancing down at her lesson plans for the day, she tapped it thoughtfully a few times before deciding to show it all out the window.

“I know it’s my first day back, and we really should be focusing on working hard,” she took the papers and ripped them in half, causing them to ooh and ahh, “remember what we learned a while back? That life rarely goes according to plan? That’s what we’re doing, we’re taking the plan and getting rid of it. We’re going to have fun instead.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well,” she moved to the front of her desk and hopped onto it, “as far as I see it, we’ve got a couple of options. We can start the next Harry Potter book and take turns reading, or we can watch some movies, or we can go outside and work on the school garden. It’s such a nice day outside, maybe we can do a little bit of everything and end the day outside. What do you guys think?”

“I think that sounds like the best class ever,” little Brian’s curls bobbed up and eagerly as a smile spread across his face, “it’s nice to be able to get a little bit of everything!”

“I think that is a very wise way of looking at it, Bri,” she smiled at the shy boy, “maybe we’ll even find our little hedgehog friend!”

“I hope so,” his eyes widened at the prospect of getting to see the little hedgehog he had so lovingly named Freddie. He was always on the lookout for them, and often spent his recess periods looking for the little creatures, Roger usually trailing after him.

“Alright then, that settles that, unless anyway has another idea?” they shook their heads at her and turned to get the Goblet of Fire out of her bag, “now then, chapter one. Who would like to start?”

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet - as much quiet was possible with a classroom of six and seven year olds anyway. They had eagerly read several chapters, enthralled and easily captivated by getting a glimpse into Harry’s world. Making good on her promise, she’d let them pick a movie, after much debate they settled on the Princess and the Frog.

During her lunch break, she had bypassed Ben and told him she was on a mission and went to pick out some new flowers and plants so all the kids could have their own to add to the school’s garden. It wasn’t much, but she knew that they’d enjoy it and that’s all that mattered to her at that point.

“I like sunflowers so much,” Jenny smiled as she dug her hole and making sure to make it plenty deep so the roots could take hold and grow strong.

“And why’s that?” Y/N asked as she sat next to her, not caring that she was in the middle of a dirt patch. She clutched the flowers and as she observed her work. Jenny was the last of her students that was still there, waiting for her dad to come and pick her up.

“Because they’re yellow and pretty,” she smiled, looking at her hole with apparent satisfaction, “and yellow is a happy color, it makes me happy. Do you like it?”

“I do like it,” she smiled at the young girl, reaching out and gently touching one of the soft petals of the tiny plant. She hoped it would grow large and strong so that it would always serve as a reader of the sweet girl that hand planted it, “happiness is important, don’t you think?”

“I think so too,” she placed the little flower that Y/N handed her into the dirt, packing it tightly to make sure it would root properly, “my uncle’s been really sad lately. Maybe I should get him some sunflowers, I want him to be happy.”

“O-oh,” the lump that rose in her throat was almost immediate and hard, and she struggled to keep her composure. Knowing Gwil hadn’t been happy struck a deep nerve within her for some reason, “I’m sorry your uncle is sad. He’s very lovely, and deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“I know,” she nodded in unequivocal agreement as she leaned back to observer her handiwork, “I hope he gets better soon.”

“I hope so you too, Jenny, I hope so too,” she reached out and tucked one of the small, loose curls behind the girl’s ear, giving her a fond look. She hoped if she ever ended up with a daughter, which seemed to be about a fifty-fifty chance at the moment, she prayed the little girl would end up like Jenny - sweet, kind, generous. Whatever child she was carrying had some of the same genes as Jenny, so she hoped that gentle personality would transfer over.

“Jenny? There you are, lovey,” the sound of Gwil’s voice was almost enough to bring her to tears. She gnawed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should make her appearance known or just duck away and pretend she was never there. She decided against that option - she was no longer going to run from all her problems, but face them head on, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry Uncle Gwil,” she gave him an innocent smile before gesturing to the freshly planted blossoms, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, “I was finishing planting my sunflowers! Miss L/N got us all flowers to plant today! It’s her first day back!”

She swore she could hear a sharp intake of breath as Gwil took a step closer and his eyes flicked over to her. She looked away, her cheeks heating up, but refused to feel like a small child under his gaze.

Y/N looked back to him, and took in his pseudo disheveled appearance. He was dressed like he had just gotten off of work, slacks with a nice button down, but the bags under his eyes were dark, his hair messier than usual, a large amount of stubble covered his face, that somehow had taken on a more gaunt look. He looked worn out and tired, like he’d seen better days and hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as her name rolled off of his dry, chapped lips. Feeling the prickle in her eyes start to sting, she nodded gently before standing up, and starting to gather the small shovels and trowels that were left behind from her students.

“Sorry to worry you about Jenny,” she whispered quietly, “she just wanted to finish and I couldn’t say no to her.”

“’s okay,” he croaked out as Jenny pulled on her sweater and grabbed his hand, ready to head home for the day. She tugged softly, trying to get his attention, but he was too captivated by Y/N, who was trying to keep herself occupied.

“Uncle Gwil!” she pouted at him, wanting his attention on her, “can we go and get a treat? Mummy doesn’t have to know!”

“Sure Jenny,” he agreed, wishing Y/N would face him, “thanks for taking care of her.”

“No problem,” she squeaked out, her heart thumping wildly, and she was almost sure that he could hear it, “have a good night Jenny, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye Gwil.”

“G-goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, letting Jenny lead the way.

“Gwil,” she suddenly blurted out, unable to contain herself any longer. It was now or never, completely imperfect, but completely in character for her. He turned around to face her with a curious, unreadable expression on his face. Giving her a nod to go on and she closed her eyes for a moment before just confessing.

“I’m pregnant.”

Permanent Taglist: @ruinerofcheese @courtneychicken  @santa-crew@supernatural508 @ssweet-empowerment@nerissa98@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety@buckybarnesappreciationsociety@wearegoldeninthenight@mannatgalhotra@prxttybirdz @piensa-bonito@mightyhemsworthy@shewalksinanotherworld @jems8241@bookaddic@fairyxxfighter@asguardiansoftheavengers @esoltis280@the-bright-lights@artisticlales @loislp @dixonsbugaboo@sleepylunarwolf@patzammit@thisismysecrethappyplace @princess-evans-addict@bookgirlunicorn@makapaka11 @bornfortherainydays@avipshamitra@clumsy-clara @justanewqueensfan@yourealegendroger@anna1523@queenficarchive@thesecondlastjedi@bitemerog@rogernroll@secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos@dinkiplier @deacontaylormercurymay @starrystarrybabe@nicholasbich @musical-prostitute-my-dear @onexlittlespark @benhardyseyes @marvelstuck @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes@whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @wonderwich

TEOT Taglist: @geek-and-proud@everybodyplaythegame@anchoredbylove @m0etenchandon @lv7867@queentrashcanfics@bohemian-war @bnhvrdy @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@metaphorical-love-for-a-car @ramibaby @another-life-addict@queentrashcanfics @rosedeacy @softbenhardy@totallynerdstuff@rachelweiszs-areawoman @lelifesaver @live-at-the-rainbow @kerstin-p @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @booksaremylife602 @daisy-chains-over-diamonds @littleliv1 @punygodd @doctorscompanian @yourealegendroger @r-edspecial @ixchel-9275 @dessert-hardy @ezmina98 @ispewglitter @totallynerdstuff @joefucksdonuts @danamaleksworld

[littlevenusflytrap22]

Unadulterated (A Kylo Ren x Reader Fanfic) 

read it on AO3 here

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3 

“Ever word so proper….like a Lieutenant…” you could feel every word on your neck, a brand on your skin “…but that voice I hear in your head, it tells me something else” 

You didn’t know whether you were alive or dead. Pillows had indented to the shape of your head, your blankets were wrapped around you so tight that you could barely breath- you don’t remember the last time you drank water. Shame swelled in your head and you breathed a dramatic sigh into your pillowcase.

Imagine, you thought, letting your horniness get the better of you and losing your chance to impress.

It was one little mistake. Sure, touching yourself on shift wasn’t smart but it’s not like any of your superiors even notice you exist half the time. Sure, it was a slip of the hand. Sure, you could have been fired or worse but we all have moments of weakness.

Right?

“Open up…” an incessant banging railed your door, “…you’ll never guess who I met!” Levi pronounced through the steel of the door.

You could have a guess at who he met.

“Leave me alone, I’m wallowing in self pity dramatically and don’t have time for your energy right now” you sighed, flopping on your back like a longing maiden from a romance play.

“I have sweets”

“Red ones?”

“Of course! don’t be an idiot, open the door”

You pushed an arm out of your covers to press a button on the bedside table. You heard a whoosh and the airlock released. A cheery-faced Levi entered with all the grace of a seasoned dancer and all the exuberance of a Vulptex. He looked like the human embodiment of a supernova and it was far too bright for your eyes.

“so..” He throws you a bag which thuds off your chest with a resounding slap, “…I’m standing there, supervising some engineering work and totally getting my rocks off by telling the officers to speed up. Anyway, in walks Kylo Ren; Devastatingly tall and he looks over the job..”

“ And he goes..” He sighs flopping onto your bed, “‘Good work’. He told me my work was good, I almost fucking came”

Please don’t talk about cumming at work, I’m still suffering from PTSD.

“Good for you” you said.

You gave a grumpy huff and poured some of the red gummies Levi had got you onto your boobs. Who needs a bowl when you have tits? Levi laid beside you. In the small cot you he took up all the room that was left. Each Lieutenant got their own sleeping quarters with enough ‘necessities’ to get you to the next shift. One stiff-as-a-rod single bed, a compact shower/bathroom and a few desks for data pads, books or anything work related.

At the end of Officer training you and Levi had cut a hole in the wall. Small enough to not be seen during room inspections but big enough to hold confiscated items. He had even built a tiny mechanical door to hide your secrets. Little treasures from planets past sat in there - dried flowers, bottles of sand and gems. No one expected luxury when entering the first order, but you had expected to be able to keep small parts of you.

Though, it was not like the First Order was known for hospitality.

“What has got you so down?” Levi brushed your cheek with his hand.

You remembered the brush of the Commanders hand on yours, the feel of smoothed leather and the clench of your core.

“I lost a job with Kylo Ren, he basically sees me as inept”

Levi laid on his side to watch you, a frown pulled at the pink of his lips.

“I head Mandalay got a job with him, which one of the twins was it? The nice one or the wicked witch of the Finalizer?” He groaned, gesturing his hands animatedly.

You sigh, “The nice one”

“Well shit” he pulled you into a hug “That sucks worse, cause you can’t even hate her for it…but you’re not telling me everything are you?”

A resounding blush worked appeared on your cheeks. It’s not like you can say ‘yeah, I fucked myself thinking about Kylo Ren and he saw me with my juices all over my thigh. Now he thinks I’m a slutty dumbass and wouldn’t let me on a simple mapping project’.

“Did you suck Kylo Rens dick?”

“What? No!”

“Oh”, he takes a sigh before pushing a sweet into his mouth, “well, anything you say now will just be disappointing”

The words choke in your mouth. Even Levi could never know your shame, no matter how many secrets the two of you shared together. The embarrassment of the that moment is not something you can just bounce back from.

Nor did you want him to know how close you were to getting on your knees and begging to suck the Commanders dick.

You spent the next day rightfully melancholy. Lt Mandalay sat next to you at breakfast which almost gave you heart palpitations. Ever part of you wanted to berate her for taking what was yours. But, it was not her fault that you were shrouded in failure.

“Kalea” you spoke, your spoon hovering centimetres from your mouth “I’m not angry at you for taken that job, you deserve it”

Kalea, Lt Mandalay, gave you a soft smile, so reminiscent of the princesses of childhood picture books. Her beauty was not something to scoff at. Her skin was effortlessly flawless; a rich black with a bronze undertone that made her shine like smooth tourmaline. Plus, she was far more kind than any First Order officer you had met.

“No” she pushed an extra piece of bread on to your plate “That work was far more difficult than my capabilities, it was not right for me at all. However, I did put in a good word for you with the Commander. I told him that you were perfect for any role he had available. I do not think I have the strength to work with him”

Strength? How could anyone not want to be pushed to their best. That is, after all, what makes us formidable.

You gave her the sweetest smile you could manage, while trying to hide the burning happiness inside of you. Imagine -if next time- it’s yours.

You were surprised at how fast the calling came.

The transfer of kyber crystals was your main focus for the rest of your shift. Getting them to bases (or the Finalizer) was extremely difficult as the mines were prime targets for Resistance attacks and travelling with them was dangerous at best. You spent that majority of your time looking through safe travel routes and making sure there were enough ground forces defending mining planets. Ineptitude in this role could end in death and you weren’t keen to be black marked by the First Order.

In your mind, you saw his presence before you felt it. It was like, a harsh melody playing in your head. One that you could not stop listening to. Then in crawled that incessant burning feeling down your neck and you stood up with attention.

I can feel you.

The door opened to reveal the Commander, guarded by two Stormtroopers who seem to give you an odd appraisal before standing to attention by the door. You guessed that they didn’t see you as much of a threat.

Ignore the fact that the Commander is fucking hot and just impress. Do not let your vagina do the talking for you.

Kylo gave a slow meander around the small work room and you standing next to your command desk. You felt so insignificantly small in this moment.

“Sir, I-“ you started, he held up a hand to stop you.

“I’m here because I need a guarded escort” he said, standing by the opposite wall. He was looking out into the stars. If you weren’t the only one here you’d wonder if he was even addressing anyone; his voice lacked any distinction behind his modulator.

“I was assured you’d be up to the task and everyone else already has obligations necessary to the First Order. You, however…” he turned to face you “…are dispensable”

You tried not to visually cringed at the idea that he had chosen you because you were the only one available.

Fuck you, I’m worth more than something easily replaceable. I’m the best you have.

Kylo stepped before you, turning his head slightly as he watched you lower your head. You weren’t sure if you did it out of respect or fear. He raised a gloved hand and turned to the Stormtroopers given them a gesture you can’t even begin to explain. Each filled out of the room, understanding an order the Commander didn’t need to vocalise. Leaving you alone with him.

You heard a whoosh of air as the Commander presses either side of his mask, removing it with practiced elegance. You indulged in the features of his face; the soft slop of his nose, the honeyed light of his eyes and the soft vibrancy of his hair. You wonder how such beauty could stay contained.

And how much he’s getting paid, because I cannot afford shampoo that good.

He waltzed around you, his eyes not removing themselves from your form. Stature was everything when commanding respect.  You kept your hands behind your back and shoulders straight. Perfect posture for an Officer of the First Order.

“It’s funny…” he brushed a finger along the one slither of skin on you nape “…how your mind screams something different than your mouth. You’re hiding someone else below the surface aren’t you?”

“Commander, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Has my service to the First Order not been satisfactory?”

He brings his head to the corner of your neck and breaths slightly on the shell of your ear. You could not repress the shiver that overcomes you.

“Ever word so proper….like a Lieutenant…” you could feel every word on your neck, a brand on your skin “…but that voice I hear in your head, it tells me something else”

He could hear me. He could always hear me. He knows every thought I had in that command room. My thoughts about his thighs, my thoughts now. Shit.

The Commander final walks around you to watch your face from up close. Without warning, he reaches a finger up to pull a strand of your hair out from your hat. Slowly, that finger traces down your cheek, drawing an indecent line to the plump of your bottom lip. He rests his knuckle there: insistent and probing.

Without any thought, your tongue comes out to brush the leather.

Shit.

You fling your self away from his body. Your breathing was tight as you actively tried to avoid your eyes.

“I’m sorry Sir, I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t think”

Kylos’ eyes filled with a darkness. That, you thought, was either lust or anger.

He smirked, “No, you shouldn’t have”

Within seconds he grips your throat in one of his large hands; swallowing you neck with the ‘v’ of his thumb and finger. He threw you up against the wall with a resounding slap. It felt like something you had been waiting for. A dream and a nightmare rolled into one.

The Commander removes his hand from your throat to push his index finger past the guard of your lips. Penetrating your mouth with aggression. You didn’t have to think, you just acted. Your tongue dances underneath his finger, sucking passionately on its tip.

“You dirty whore…” he sighed, the leather of his glove punishing the back of your throat “…Do you do this for everyone? Do you, princess?”

He pushes the heat of his thigh in-between your legs, allowing you the slightest piece of reprieve. You feel like a puppet, moved around by his devices, only being allowed to chase your pleasure when he wants you too. Kylo pushes your pussy down onto his thigh with his free hand, allowing you to grind lightly and letting the seem of your trousers rub along your clit.

“My little fool…”.he breathed it on to your neck, letting his tongue lick the sweat on your nape “…How can you be my guard when all you think about is how you want to fuck me?”

You’re forced to turn your head when a bright pain splashes along your cheek, the Commander had slapped you. Yet, you feel your cunt clench while the pain seeps through your head. Fuck, you wanted him to slap you again. You were grinding an aggressive rhythm on his thigh, suddenly uncaring if anyone saw you. After all, you quite enjoy the idea of everyone knew you had the privilege to fuck the Commanders thigh.

A resounding slap echos of the walls when he hits you again, a fresh wave of cum oozing from your pussy and leaving a wet stain on your panties.

“Answer me Lieutenant!” he pushes the fingers to the back of your throat, shoving them in and out with a rapid pace “…Oh, you can’t”

You gag on his fingers and you feel saliva pooling out of your mouth and onto your uniform. You can’t help but think of the last time he saw your uniform dirty. Did he enjoy it? Did he want you because he saw how willing you could be? how much of a whore you could become? Kylo Rens official slut.  

The fingers in your mouth suddenly halted, pulling out to rub saliva along your lips. The Commander tensed his thigh and you breathed out an airy groan. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you right here, push his cock in with such power that your legs shake from it.

“You won’t cum today” he stated.

No, please no. I’ll do anything.

“Please, please Commander. I-i know what I did was wrong but please just..” You gave two harsh grinds on to his thigh feeling you clit pulse “…just a bit longer”

Kylo wrapped a tight hand into your hair, throwing your head harshly against the cold still.

“Do not argue with me girl”

He grinds the outline of his cock against your thigh, the only indication that this had any effect him at all. He grins into the corner of your neck before gripping your chin to turn your face toward him.

“After all…” he whispers “..We don’t cum at work do we?”

Slowly, he moves away from you. Which finally gave you space to gasp for air, shaking from the exhaustion and pain from being denied what your body needs the most.

“Be in the hanger in the morning..” He rubs your mouth with his finger before turning to leave “…We start work tomorrow”

[svelte-wip]

chapter 1

If there was one thing I could change about myself, it was my terrible, terrible habit of falling in love. It was a curse; I fell in love so often I couldn’t even count all the occasions over the years. And I was only seventeen, to boot. But that wasn’t so bad, not really. It was certainly exciting. No, the curse was that none of them, not one, had ever been interested in me back. I was too weird, too boring, too loud, too quiet, too excitable, too smart, too oblivious...the list went on and on. 

I always looked forward to Thursdays though. Why? Because our schedules lined up and I could talk to my current crush. He was dreamy: inky black hair, bright green eyes with freckles splattered across his nose. Lithe, quiet and smart, he was sweet and cute and seemed to find me endearing. I was happy that he even acknowledged me, considering it to be a sign. Surely, if he gave me the time of day, there was a chance. That he liked me well enough, that, over time, it could blossom into something more.

Nodding to myself, I pushed the door open to my history class. All I wanted was to talk to him and have everything go smoothly. Hang out, laugh, chill, and be ready to get through the rest of the week until I could see him again.

Sitting my bag down, I smiled at him sweetly.

“Hey, whazzup?” He nodded.

“Not much. You?” I replied.

He shrugged, and turned back to his friend. A little hurt, I brushed it off and pulled out my thick textbook. Maybe I had just interrupted him.

“So yeah, my girlfriend was pretty irritated at me.” He said with a weak laugh.

...Oh.

The feeling left my hands as my heart stopped. My book clattered to the table, and I mumbled an “oops” as I hurriedly caught it from falling off the table.

“You okay, Kamila?” Jenny asked.

Her bright eyes watched me with worry. I smiled at her, my throat so tight I was surprised I could get the words out. They still sounded choked, like I had tried to swallow a tissue and was trying to speak around it. It felt like I had, like my mouth was full of cotton. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Ethan glanced at me curiously as I sat down, but otherwise paid me no mind.

My heart was stinging as I thumbed through my homework.

No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. Surely I must have heard him wrong.

The idea of him kissing another girl, grinning from ear to ear when she texted him, hugging her tight, made my eyes burn and heart constrict.

I swallowed hard and thumbed through my book, ignoring the looks she shot me. This wasn’t how I wanted my day to go. This wasn’t what I had been looking forward to.

Why me? Why not me?

“Ah, you have a girlfriend? Since when?” Noah asked with surprise.

“Since, eh, last Thursday? I asked her out after classes.” Ethan shrugged. “You might know her.”

He mentioned her name, but I wasn’t fully comprehending. My mind was buzzing and yet empty at the same time. The name echoed in my mind, and I conjured up her face.

I knew her. We had a class together. She was cute and quiet and bubbly and brilliant. Pretty, curly hair, petite and stylish. Good at speaking, holding a conversation and talented at everything she touched.

The exact opposite of everything I was and was everything I expected him to look for. 

Miserable, I listened in utter silence to the lecture. I didn’t feel like saying anything or answering any of the questions. What was even the point? I was only taking this class because he was in it. I didn’t need any history credits.

I just wanted to go home and bury myself under the covers.

Why did this always happen to me?

--------- 

Walking down the hallway to the last and final class, I barely noticed when my heavy bag caught someone’s arm, making them jerk in surprise and annoyance.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, briefly looking up.

His irritation fading, Xavier shrugged, pausing for a moment. “You okay?”

The image of him walking with his own girl down the hall made me clam up to anything I would have spilled to him normally. “Yeah. S’all good.”

I felt like throwing up. All the guys I had ever liked I ended up watching them get their own girlfriends. If not, they blatantly turned me down in front of a lot of people. One had even turned me down because someone told him to.

I didn’t want to mess with boys anymore. It just never worked out in my favor and I wanted to give up. I had the worst luck and I was learning to accept that I just shouldn’t even try anymore. There simply wasn’t any point.

Walking up the stairs to the main foyer, I barely noticed when someone fell into step with me. “I went to a concert yesterday and it was lit.” A familiar, deep voice said.

He hadn’t left. Probably because he was too brash to notice when I didn’t want him around. I tightened my grip on my bag handle, annoyed that I was feeling better already. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I actually got you something.”

I looked up in disbelief. “You what? You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to though.” Xavier dug out something from his bag and handed it to me.

I paused on the landing, and he turned to watch me. The material was soft in my fingers as I held it up.

“It should fit you, it’s too tight on me but you’re a lot smaller than me.” Xavier watched me with concern.

The words Fighter written in bold font suddenly brought tears to my eyes. The sincerity of the gift coupled with the timing made me hide my face in the shirt as I desperately tried to get my act together.

“Kamila? Are you okay? Do you not like it?” He stepped closer to me.

My first friend, the one who had given me courage to actually come back and get out of bed in the morning, gently nudged my shoulder. His hand was warm through my shirt, a comforting gesture that made me hiccup.

“I love it. Thank you.” I lowered the shirt, suddenly unafraid to show him that my mascara was probably running and the tears glittering in my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll wear this shirt until all the seams come out and the ink fades.” I smiled at him, carefully folding the shirt and tucking it into my bag.

He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m touched. I’m glad you like it. Do you have to cry about it though?”

“Today has just been rough. You have good timing.” I started up the next flight of stairs.

He easily caught up with me, his long legs covering twice as much ground as mine could. “How so?”

I let out a shuddery sigh. “Y’know, it’s just unpleasant to learn your crush just got somebody, and if you had been just slightly quicker, slightly more, the story would be different, but also knowing that you aren’t enough and won’t ever be what they want.”

Xavier hummed thoughtfully. “Deep. But hey, you can’t fight fate.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He slung an arm over my shoulder, and the weight was comforting. “I’ll message you some sad songs on Spotify and you can wallow in your misery for the week.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Xavier.”

He grinned at me, that beautiful, slightly lopsided grin that made his dark eyes crinkle. “Sure thing. Hey, I’m sure you’ll find someone. Knowing you, they’ll probably crash into you on some crowded street and you’ll both hit the concrete and instantly fall in love or some such shit.”

I had to laugh. “That’s ridiculous and I hope it happens that way.”

He winked, his arm sliding off my shoulder as he lifted an earbud to his ear. “Let me know how your week goes.”

“Of course.” I replied.

I glanced up at him, my heart aching. I had loved him once, before it had come rudely crashing down around me.

“Hey, text me if you need anything. I’m always down to facetime, okay? Never too busy for a friend.”

Ouch.

“Sure. Of course. See you next week.” We parted ways at the main entrance, and I turned to my phone to check notifications.

Another unrequited love that I had buried in the name of friendship. Honestly, why did my heart have to be so soft? So easily attracted and broken?

Something brushed against my arm. Ethan walked by, not even taking notice of me. That was normal for him. He was often in his own little world. 

I envied him. It was hard to get hurt when you had your own little bubble.

--------- 

Running my fingers through my hair, I texted my best friend to say I was leaving school and asked if we could call that evening. She lived halfway around the world, and it was sometimes hard to hangout for more than a moment. I left the building, my feet somehow finding where I had parked that morning. Everything felt robotic and empty as I climbed into the driver’s seat, buckled my seatbelt and put it into gear.

“Things are fine. They will be fine. You’ll crash into someone.” I whispered to myself as I cranked the music louder.

--------- 

“He doesn’t!!!” Maria gasped dramatically when I told her what had gone down that day.

“Yeah, he does.” I traced my finger along the soft fabric of the new shirt. “Boys are losers, you need another dog.” She advised.

I smiled. “You right.”

I told her about the gift, and she sighed. “Sucks that he too, is taken. You guys would be cute. Xavier’s such goals. He’s hot and thoughtful and good with kids and honestly? Wow.”

I laughed bitterly. “I know. All perfection has flaws, though.”

Maria hummed. “Welp, maybe your mister right just hasn’t come onto the scene yet. Maybe you’re still supposed to wait.”

Sitting lower in my desk chair, I drew my legs to my chest and hugged them tight. “I hate waiting and suffering in the meantime.” I said, voice cracking.

Just from her tone, I knew she wanted to hug me. “I know, I know. It’s okay, Kamila.”

[a-splash-of-stucky]

In Sickness and In Health

Pairings: Steve x Reader

Summary: You’re sick, but for a very good reason.

Warnings: Vomiting and generally being ill. Implied/referenced smut.

Notes: Wrote this on a train, sorry if it’s crap (I was sleep-deprived and in a funny mood). Written for @supersoldierslover’s 3k writing challenge, with the prompt ‘taking care of each other whilst sick’.

also — there was a long period of time between me writing this and me editing it and man. Lemme tell you, I cracked myself up a few times (is that lame? idk) re-reading it.

My Masterlist

To get out of bed or to stay in bed, that is the question, you muse. It’s a hard decision you have to make.

“Fuckin’ butcherin’ Shakespeare, I’m that delirious,” you grumble, to no one in particular.

You’re curled up on your side underneath a fluffy blanket, despite the fact that it’s almost noon. You haven’t had a shower in—an unreasonably long amount of time, goodness, you don’t even want to think about how long it’s ben. You’re wearing your rattiest pair of pyjama shorts and an old t-shirt of your husband’s. In short, you look — and feel — like shit.

You’ve been feeling horribly nauseous. The dreaded queasiness has been plaguing you for the past couple of days, lingering in the back of your throat like an itch you can’t get rid of. A sickening feeling is beginning to creep into your mouth; the urge to hurl is present, but not yet imminent. Although, you’re fairly certain that with the way things have been going lately, you’ll be puking your guts out in no time.

The issue here is the fact that your limbs have basically been reduced to wobbly noodles. You don’t think you have it in you to roll over to the edge of the bed and throw up in the conveniently placed bucket, let alone stagger into the bathroom to puke into the toilet. Earlier this morning, you’d tried standing up, intending to go downstairs for some breakfast, only to find yourself swaying on two feet and collapsing onto the bed from sudden dizziness.

You sigh tiredly as you wallow in a pool of self-pity. Being sick fucking sucks.

It is at that moment that you hear the front door of your apartment creaking open. Heavy footsteps come next, thudding into the hallway. Keys jangle as they’re set onto the counter.

“Steve?” you groan.

Your husband materialises in the doorway of the bedroom, a plastic bag in one hand, his jacket in the other.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, eyes going all soft and concerned as he takes in your current situation — buried under the blanket, your hair in a mess and a positively miserable expression on your face.

“It’s real bad, huh, baby?” he asks, draping his jacket over the desk chair as he approaches the bed. Steve crouches down beside you, so that his handsome — unfairly handsome, Steven why are you like this? — face is level with yours.

“Think m’gonna be sick again,” you mumble.

Steve’s eyebrows quirk up in understanding.

“Need me to carry you?” he asks. You manage to nod your head, even in your weakened state.

Steve straightens up and leans over you to help unwrap the blanket from your body. He gets one arm underneath your knees and the other around your shoulders, holding you in a sure, secure grip, as if you weigh nothing at all. Your husband whisks you into the ensuite and gently deposits you beside the toilet. You manage to muster up enough arm-leg coordination to arrange your body over the bowl as the first tremors roll through you.

There’s not much strength in you, having been up most of the night in this exact same spot, doing basically the exact same thing. You heave an retch weakly, your entire body quaking as you puke out the half-a-slice of toast you’d had for breakfast. All throughout the unglamorous ordeal, Steve stays by your side, one hand rubbing soothing circles over your back, the other brushing your hair away from your face. He murmurs calming words into your ear that get drowned out by the unrelenting roar of your pulse.

When the bout is over, you slump against the wall beside the toilet, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your forehead on top of them. The dizzying sensation is still pulsing behind your temples so you close your eyes and force yourself to take deep breaths through your mouth, in order to steady yourself. You hear Steve standing up and flushing the toilet, before striding out of the bathroom.

He’s back a few seconds later, though, before you even get a chance to call out for him. You feel — rather than see — him sitting down in front of you. The soft crinkling and rustling of plastic tells you the purpose of his short trip to the bedroom. You hear a sharp snapping noise, then feels Steve’s fingers touching the back of your hand.

“Here, baby, drink this,” Steve says softly. You lift your head up and look at him through bleary eyes. Steve’s bringing a bottle to your lips, an encouraging smile on his face. You squint at the contents of the bottle suspiciously; it’s filled with an unnervingly bright orange-coloured liquid.

“S’just an energy drink,” he explains, “To replenish your electrolytes.”

You shrug indifferently, leaning your head forward. At least the thing has a sports top. You take several large sips, savouring the way the chilled liquid soothes the slight burn irritating your throat that comes with puking your guts out. It’s also unbearably sweet, but at least that has the advantage of chasing away the horrible aftertaste of vomit.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a small pink and white box poking out of the plastic bag. As Steve re-caps the bottle and sets it aside, you reach out a hand to inspect the box. What it says on the front makes your heart do uncontrolled leaps.

“Steve?” you breathe.

“Hmm?”

“What is this?” you ask, turning the box in your hand.

A scarlet flush spreads over Steve’s face, spreading from the roots of his hair, to the tips of his ears and even down his neck. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, look, I—I told the lady at the counter your symptoms, to get you some meds, and she was askin’ me questions about what you’ve been doing these past couple’a days, and…and well, she thought it might be worth taking…one,” he finishes lamely, gesturing awkwardly to the box in your hand.

“She thinks I might be pregnant?” you breathe incredulously, looking down at the pregnancy test in your hand in disbelief.

To be fair, this is not a wholly impossible explanation. Lately, you and Steve have been a lot lazier with regards to protection and, now that you think about it, your period might be a little bit late. Then again, your cycle has a tendency to be irregular at awkward times, so who are you to know these things?

“She…well, she said it couldn’t hurt to buy one,” Steve mutters, shifting uncomfortably on his haunches as he sets the energy drink back into the plastic bag. “Look, if you’d rather not—,”

“No, no,” you protest, flapping him away with one hand as you crack the box open with your other. “S’worth a try.”

You break open the seal, then tip out the contents of the box; a pee-on-a-stick test and a small instruction pamphlet. You skin through the pictures, your brows furrowed and your lips caught between your teeth. In your peripheral vision, you can see your husband trying to not let his nerves show.

The process seem simple enough, you muse. Pee on the stick, cap it, then wait three minute before reading the result. Standard. You’ve never taken a pregnancy test before, and you can’t help but feel a little bit excited as to what the result might be.

“D’you want me to…y’know what? I’ll wait outside,” Steve decides, as he pushes himself to his feet. You hold your hands out and shoot him your best puppy-dog look. Steve chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he grasps your wrists and pulls you up in one smooth movement. Before he lets you go, Steve throws his arms around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

“I love you,” he breathes, pressing a tender kiss to the middle of your forehead. He’s got a dopey grin on his face that he can’t seem to get rid off — but to be fair, you’re pretty sure that you’re not much better. The excitement is making him almost buzz out of his skin.

“Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet!” you laugh, playfully wriggling in his grip.

“I know,” he murmurs, finally letting you go. He bends down to pick the plastic bag up again. When he straightens, he flashes you that killer smile, “I still love you, though.”

“Sap,” you tease, sticking your tongue out when Steve makes a wounded face. “Shoo!” you order, prodding him in the shoulder to get him moving, “Let me pee in peace.”

Steve guffaws, eyes crinkling at the corners and hand reaching up to clutch his left pec as he walks backwards out of the bathroom. You giggle as you watch him leave, wondering how on earth you landed yourself this dork. Once he’s gone, you pull down your sleep shorts, take an unnecessarily dramatic breath, then sit on the toilet to take a test whose results could very well change life as you know it.

Being sick makes you something of a drama queen, it seems.

As per the instructions on the pamphlet, once you’ve saturated the tip on your urine, you replace the cap, then set it on the bathroom counter on top of some folded tissue paper — pointedly not looking at the small window where two pink lines may or may not appear in a few minutes time. You wash your hands, then head into the bedroom, where Steve is waiting.

He’s sat on the edge of the bed wearing a hopeful expression on his face. His thighs are spread apart and his elbows are on his knees.

“Got three minutes to wait,” you announce, your gaze flicking to the digital alarm clock you keep on the bedside table. Steve nods, sitting up straighter and holding his arms out in invitation. You smile brightly, sauntering over and perching yourself in his lap. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close. Steve rests his chin on top of your head and sighs quietly.

“I’m a little nervous,” he admits, voice low and quiet.

“Me too,” you breathe, your fingers idly tracing the geometric design on the front of his t-shirt.

It’s quite possibly the longest three minutes you’ve ever had to wait out.

(Okay, being sick definitely makes you more of a drama queen).

Everyone probably says that kind of thing when they’re waiting for something as momentous and potentially life-changing as this, but still. Time is a cruel fiend, slowing itself down when all you want is to know right now. You find your gaze drifting over to the clock more often than not.

That’s doing absolutely nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering like madmen in your stomach. Or maybe, that’s just the nausea acting up again. No, no — definitely nerves.

“‘Kay,” you say, twisting out of Steve’s grip and getting to your feet when the time is — finally — up. “You comin’ with?” you ask, holding a hand out for Steve to take.

He regards it, swallows nervously, then shakes his head. “I’m gonna wait here,” he says resolutely, folding his arms over his muscled chest and tipping his chin up to look at you. “You get to tell me what the results are.”

“Just an excuse for bein’ lazy,” you say under your breath, as you turn to head into the bathroom. Steve snorts indignantly, forcing you to stifle a chuckle — enhanced hearing; of course he caught  that.

The next few seconds pass by in a surreal blur. One moment you’re walking into the bathroom, the next moment you’re staring at the pregnancy test on the counter and seeing two bright pink lines staring back at you.

Your heart stops.

You’re not sure whether the urge to scream or the urge to bawl is stronger — torn in its indecision, your body winds up doing neither, choosing to freeze in shock, instead.

It’s quite possible that for a few seconds, your lungs stop working.  

“Sweetheart?” Steve calls, “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply, your mouth finally remembering how to make words come out. Your muscles are acting like they’re paralysed — no matter how hard you command them to move, you’re stuck in the same spot.

You’ve no idea how much time passes, but it’s clearly long enough to make Steve concerned. He strides into the room, all purposeful and determined, though you can see the hesitation and apprehension in his eyes. Steve comes up behind you, hands tentatively resting on your waist.

“Baby?” he asks softly, nose brushing along the column of your neck.

“H-hey, honey,” you choke out, voice becoming hoarse tears unexpectedly bubble to the surface. “You ready to follow me into the jaws of parenthood?”

Steve inhales sharply. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. An unbearably long silence passes. “You’re serious?” he breathes, the shock evident in his tone.

“Uh-huh,” you reply, turning in his arms so that the two of you are face to face. Steve’s expression is a curious mixture of shock, fear and excitement. He breaks out into a huge grin when his eyes lock onto yours.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks softly, one hand coming to rest on your belly.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice breathless as a fat tear rolls down your face. “We’re pregnant, honey. You’re gonna be a dad. You’re gonna be a daddy!”

A pause, then, “Already am,” Steve jokes, one eyebrow quirking up smugly. You roll your eyes, about to make some witty retort, but Steve’s already pulling you closer, the grin on his face threatening to outshine the sun.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Holy shit, we’re gonna be parents!” he cries exultantly, picking you up and spinning you around in a circle. You squeal, playfully thrashing in his grip until he sets you down on your feet again.

“We’re gonna be parents, sweetheart,” Steve repeats, his hands travelling up and down your body as if he still hasn’t wrapped his head around the thought. “Oh, you’re gonna get all round and—,” Steve cuts himself off, turning away as a slight flush blooms over the apples of his cheeks.

You know what that means. When your husband gets embarrassed, his face turns as red as a tomato, flushing all over. When he gets aroused however, that’s when he starts looking all bashful and shy like this.

“And what, Stevie?” you tease, poking him in the bicep. “Round and what?”

“Nothin’,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, messing it up.

“Bullshit, Rogers,” you say, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards you, bringing Steve down to your eye-level, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“I—um. I just realised that you’re gonna look real round when you’re pregnant,” Steve says, trying valiantly to remain calm.

You blink slowly, confused. “That’s…that’s the point, honey.”

“And I just realised how sexy that’s gonna be,” he blurts, eyes wide and cheeks flaming red.

Your expression turns coy as you bat your lashes seductively. “Oooooh, Steven, I didn’t know you had a pregnancy kink,” you purr, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Neither did I,” Steve admits gruffly, his hands dropping down to cup your ass. “Kinda lookin’ forward to explorin’ that a bit, though,” he whispers, voice dropping an octave lower, turning all husky and rough the way you love.

You can’t really focus on that right now, however.

“Hold up, babe,” you gasp, hurriedly pushing away from him, twisting and dropping to your knees in front of the toilet again as the urge to hurl comes rushing back at full force.

“Oh—okay, let me—,” Steve mutters, crouching down by your side to support you. You retch violently, forcing some a meagre dribble of liquid out of your system.

“Just think, honey!” Steve chirps, as he pets your hair affectionately, “At least there’s a purpose to all this!”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groan, as another shuddering heave wracks through your system.

“You did,” Steve says, tone solemn. “That’s how you got pregnant in the first place.”

You bark out a laugh. “You’re gonna be one of those dads with the worse dad jokes ever,” you grumble, your voice coming out sounding much fonder than you want it to.

“And you’re gonna love me for it,” Steve whispers contritely.

He’s right.

You probably will.

[returnsandreturns]

For the kink prompts and ONLY IF YOU WANNA of course: period sex, any ship you want

yes tho 

When Marci cancels a date becauseher uterus is literally attacking her, Foggy shows up at her dorm about half anhour later with a bag full of her favorite junk food, a bottle of sparklingwater, and tampons.

“Jesus,” she says, smilingdespite herself.

“I have a sister,” he says,shrugging. “And a thousand girl cousins. I know things.”

“Of course you do,” she says,laughing. “You know, I get a little less attracted to you the sweeter you get.”

“I don’t believe that at all,”Foggy says, reaching up to touch her face gently before he leans in to press akiss to her cheek. “You want me to stay or leave you to wallow?”

“. . .hug me,” she says, afterthinking for a moment, and Foggy snorts and sits the bag on the ground beforewrapping her up in his arms. He’s wearing a soft hoodie that still smells likefabric softener and his body feels good against hers, warm and steady. She humsspeculatively then pulls away, turning around to collapse on the bed again.

“Is that a yes?” Foggy asks. Hisface is so fond that it makes Marci feel things beyond her body punishing herfor not giving it a baby.

“Yes,” Marci says, reaching outher hand for him, “but you have to leave if you start annoying me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, grabbingthe back and moving it to her nightstand before he kicks his shoes off and,after staring at her questioningly and getting an eye roll and a nod, steps outof his jeans to crawl onto the bed next to her in his boxers.

They lie facing each other,making weird eye contact until Foggy breaks and laughs, leaning forward to kissher gently. Marci gets a hand in his hair and holds on, letting herself meltinto the kiss until another cramp starts building up and she turns onto herback with a groan.

“What’ll make you feel better?”Foggy asks, sitting up on his elbow to smile down at her.

“Eating chocolate whilesimultaneously having a really nice orgasm,” she says, pouting at him.

“I could make that happen,” heoffers, fingers gently touching her stomach before moving down to rub back andforth over her pelvis.

“We can’t fuck,” she says, makingan encouraging noise. “It’s like an episode of CSI down there. There’s, like,yellow tape and chalk outlines.”

“I don’t mind,” Foggy says,fingers moving even lower to trace between her legs, over the seam of her softblue pajama shorts. Marci immediately aches for it, lifting her hips slightlyand letting out a soft sigh when Foggy presses hard over her clit.

“The gung ho feminist dude thingis cute,” she says, dryly, “but you don’t have to.”

Foggy’s hand cups her cunt instead,and she full on moans when he squeezes, a little rougher than before.

“What if I want to?” he asks,smile growing when she gapes at him.

“Do you have a weird fetish?” sheasks, making soft pleased noises when he starts to massage her clit through hershorts, rolling her hips up.

“Well, I’ve never done it before,”Foggy says, patting her once before sitting up, “but who knows?”

They have a staring contest againbefore Marci makes a face and nods.

“Okay, go for it,” she says. “Just—donot put your dick or anything bigger than a finger inside me at all. Everythingis sore and I didn’t even get to do anything fun to earn it.”  

“Got it,” Foggy says, leaningdown again to kiss her again before he grabs her towel from where she abandonedit on the floor earlier and very efficiently puts it underneath her and takesher shorts off.

“Seriously?” she asks, a littlebreathlessly, when he slides down between her legs until he’s breathing close toher cunt.

“If you want it,” he says, leaningin to lick over her clit before he looks up at her and raises his eyebrows. Shelets the feeling soak through her before she drops a hand to thread it throughhis hair, nodding then laughing out a moan when Foggy dips back down to suck onher clit.

“Oh my god, this is—” she gasps,writhing just a little, petting his hair. “This is good, we should’ve done thisbefore.”

She can feel Foggy smile against her skin before he keeps it up while Marcigrunts and gasps.

“Fuck,” she says, firmly,laughing as she comes with her hips rocking up against his face. “Holy fucking shit. I wish I didn’t have a tampon in,I really want your tongue inside me.”

Foggy moves his hand from whereit was resting on her hip to brush over the tampon string, making a curiousnoise.

“I could take it out,” he says,like that’s a thing.

Marci collapses against herpillows and stares at the ceiling before she says, like she can’t quite believeit, “Yeah, you could.”

She feels weird and buzzed andvulnerable all at once, already ready to go, and she whimpers when Foggy closesfingers around the string and tugs gently until the tampon slides out her andhe can throw it into the trashcan by her bed.

When he moves back into position,he dips a finger inside of her while his tongue circles her clit a few times—beforehe traces his tongue down to lick over where his finger’s just barelystretching her.

“Foggy,” she says. “Don’t—don’tstop.”

When Foggy looks up at her togrin, he’s got a streak of blood on his chin.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m herefor the interim.”

He goes down on her again andkeeps alternating two fingers and his tongue inside of her until she’s shakingand saying, embarrassingly high-pitched, “Yeah, shit, yeah, yeah,” like she’s starring in some dramaticporn. She feels like she shatters when she comes again, tightening her fingersin Foggy’s hair and letting it hit her in waves until she collapses underneathhim again, exhausted.

Foggy’s face has even more bloodon it, now, streaks of it on his mouth and cheeks, the bridge of his nose.

“I want you to kiss me,” shesays, smiling helplessly as he sits up and wipes his hands off on the towel, “butI need you to wash your face first.”

“Fair enough,” he says, laughing.“Lift up.”

He pulls the towel out fromunderneath her and folds it over to wipe his face on the clean side, checkingin her mirror before he starts to leave to go to the tiny bathroom she shareswith her suitemates.

“Do you want me to get myself offbefore I come back?” he asks. “Because it’s gonna take, like, nothing at thispoint, and you can stay in bed.”

“Would you?” she asks. “I’dappreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says, smiling ather before he slips out of the room. She lies there for a solid few minutesbefore she thinks she can move again, getting up slowly to put the towel in herhamper and clean herself off and put another tampon in.

She’s in a new pair of pajamapants, long cotton ones this time, when Foggy comes back looking damp andpleased with himself.

“Cuddling?” he asks, pointing afinger at her.

“Desperate times,” she replies,opening her arms, waiting until she’s in his arms with her face hidden againsthis chest before she adds, muffled, “You’re kind of the best.”

“I love you, too,” Foggy says,because he’s been saying that, lately.

Marcihasn’t been able to say it yet, but she’s pretty sure she feels it. 

[dudegetserious]

One of those days

It's one of those days again.

Those days where I can't distract the empty wound in my soul, the feeling of twenty-nine thousand and one boulders on my stomach, arms and thighs, when my head is pounding and seventeen hundred thoughts swarm my mind, where every bone in my skeleton is weak as jelly, my eyes blurry and bleak of colour, my smile struggling to reach just my cheeks.

It's one of those days where I'm exhausted of being tired.

I hardly made it out of my bed this morning.

At school, my friends immediately detect my weak grins and take notice of the deep bags which take place under my eyes, that drag the skin down and replace it with blemished black.

They bombarded me with their enquiries, their words roaring into my sensitive ears. I wince, smile lightly and tell them, "What would a baby between a Zebra and a Penguin look like?" and send them a 'wink-wonk' to ensure my place as the squad's jester, and continue to smirk while they fluster around my pre-meditated question. As soon as they go back to normal conversations, my façade drops, along with my stomach.

I continue lessons as normal, well normal enough, my usual overwhelming aura of confidence and ambition has simmered down; all that's left of that flame is the acknowledgement of my slightly over average intelligence.

It's one of those days where my walls rapidly build up and loom over unwelcome visitors, where I spit polysyllabic words at non-friends that question my mental state. I'm not okay today because it's one of those days.

Not even my friends can make me muster a real smile or laugh, it's heavy today, the cloud weighing in with those twenty-nine thousand and one boulders.

Science is next, my teacher will throw banter at me, which I would normally catch, manipulate to my desire and lunge it right back, eagerly waiting for the next joke to take its swing, but not today. This is what I like the most about these type of days, my teachers will take notice of my 'sadness' and treat me sweetly, sugar-coating every word and calling me 'sweetheart', babying the work and allowing me to wallow in the darkness that dwells in my mangled mind. It's also what I hate the most;  me feeling sad is about as subtle as Elton John dancing around in drag and waving the rainbow flag, trying to hint at his sexuality.

It's one of those days where I simply can't focus on the work, my mind swirls with different types of thoughts, what would I say in an argument with that person, what should I do if this person says this, why am I like this, why do I twitch at least twice a month, why am I hungry, do I have this illness, why did I do that, I got lost in a shopping centre once, I got lost in ASDA once, that was a good episode, why can't I listen, am I abusive, does mum hate me, do I hate me, what about that person, am I really that fat, am I as big as that person or slimmer like that one, who hates me the most, why can't I just STOP-

"Hola!"

She's here. Her goofy smile shines brighter than the sun. Her eyes glimmer with mischief.

Thank god.

"So, today, wait, why did I say today?" She giggles at herself, her hand resting dramatically on her own shoulder while she breathlessly laughs at her own mistake. I find myself smiling. "Anyway, yesterday," I listen to her drag out 'yesterday', finding myself hanging onto every syllable. "I was talking to my mum, right? Right. Anyway I was talking to her about ugly people and my sister walks into the room and I say, 'like that, for example' and my mum bursts out laughing! She's like, 'oh my god!' and I'm like laughing and rolling on the floor CRYING!"

I find my spine relax and feel every muscle go numb, my chest swells with pride and glee while my face glows pink while listening to her. The countless thoughts fade and I sit there, resting my hand on my cheek, listening to her passionately recite what happened at lunch today with her friends. She continues to chirp quite happily by my side, her words soaring through the air.

She smiles at me, I find myself smiling back, the corners of my thin lips reaches to my crinkled eyes.

It's one of those days.