#fics by rj

[unmitigatedsuperiority]

boundless: a mermaid!spencer x reader fic (masterlist)

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Pairing: spencer x gn!reader

Summary: There’s a mermaid that lives at the edge of the beach. The first time you told Tara this, she laughed. Mermaids aren’t real. But you know what you saw, and something has you going back to that same spot, again and again. A connection as beautiful as the sunrise and as deep as the sea. And after several months of getting to know each other, one thing is certain—nothing could be more real than what you have with a certain mermaid named Spencer Reid.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

taglist: @everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @moderatelydelusional @reidslibrarybook @reidselle @serenity-lattes @honeydjarin

tagging others who may be interested: @reidsacademia @reidsbookclub @safespacespence @samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid

join my taglist here

[lovelyhan]

Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

[sirmanmister]

MacCready not beating the generational trauma allegations 😔😔😔

[foxprints]

This one has been done for a while now... I was waiting to post it because it actually accompanies a fic I wrote with @rj-abacura but idk when I'm gonna get it all edited. It's 24k in its current, super rough form lol. I'm hoping that by posting this now I'll work up the nerve to tackle the editing, though.

[atorionsbelt]

you’ll be pleased to hear phil dunster is back on his royjamie/ot3 agenda and has indeed read the fics

[x, x]

[transmasctintin]

tinchang fans come get y'all juice. no proofread sorry. CW INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA but it's not even bad so have fun, it's all fluffy

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

*KENDRICK LAMAR SCREAMING IN U SOUND EFFECT*

[izzyspussy]

royjamie + 7

"You're so fucking hot."

"So, how'd I do, Coach?" Jamie asks breathlessly, bounding over to Roy on his park bench sipping his tea. Sweat pours down his back and drips from his hair and his nose, but if he was truly bothered by that he wouldn't be an athlete. At least morning training is almost over, and then Roy will take him home and make him a homemade breakfast like he always does. "Good form, or whatever you stare at me the whole time for?" "You're so fucking hot," Roy blurts, stopping them both short. They blink at each other for a long while. "Uh..." says Jamie, eventually. "Like, 'cause... 'Cause I'm all sweaty...?" "Yes," Roy agrees mechanically. And then, "No." He glances around them, and Jamie follows suit. It's not even half five yet, so the park is dead empty. Even the sun's still home. Satisfied, Roy crooks a finger at Jamie to beckon him over. "Come here." Jamie goes there. Roy grabs him as soon as he's in range, his hand curled in Jamie's pocket like it's a handle. He uses it to yank Jamie around until Jamie is standing, confused and shivery - from cooling down, from the way being roughed about like that makes him feel, from... hope maybe, between Roy's legs. All Roy has to do is gesture vaguely, and Jamie folds down onto his knees with thoughtless obedience. (Eagerness only makes itself known when he's already done it.) Roy breathes unsteadily, then sets aside his tea and takes fistfuls of Jamie's wet hair in both hands. "You are sweaty," he says, as if he could be fucking surprised by that after putting Jamie through his paces for an hour straight in the middle of August. "And you're so fucking hot." He leans forward to take Jamie's mouth with his. It's not a rough kiss like Jamie might have expected, but it is deep and intense, zero to sixty - another way Jamie definitely expected a kiss from Roy Kent would be. He fucks Jamie's mouth with his tongue until Jamie is whining around it with need, squirming in his grip, clinging desperately to his forearms. Jamie can feel them flexing under his hands as Roy holds him still. Roy pulls back, sits straight in the bench, despite all Jamie's wordless protests. He picks his tea back up, takes a sip. "Hungry?" he asks. Jamie's mouth immediately starts watering. He breaks the steaming eye contact with Roy to glance longingly at the bulge growing in Roy's trackies. When he looks back up, Roy's eyes are glinting like a knife over a smirk as sharp as one. "Only one of us is an exhibitionist, Tartt," he barks, all the bite taken out by the fact he's clearly holding back a smug laugh. Zero to sixty. He nudges Jamie back with his shoe and stands, checks his watch. "But I'll fuck you in the car if you can get back to it in thirty seconds." Jamie scrapes his knees up racing off toward where Roy parked before he's all the way on his feet.

Smut Dialogue Prompts

[walnutmistjamie]

I couldn't leave you without an animated version of this drawing 🥰 (original drawing here)

[verymuchablog42]

would you guys believe me if i said i wrote another ronance fic?

[twd-obsessed-bitch]

Imagining Rick and Michonne finally reuniting.

They're fighting the same horde from opposite sides and as it diminishes they see eachother. Rick sees her first,

Michonnes all decked out in her new armour so Rick doesn't immediately recognize her, just sees her as an ally that moves very familiarly he starts trying to move towards her to see if they can find an exit together,

Michonne see him and freezes. Just for a second, but long enough for a walker to get too close for comfort. He's older, has a beard again and is in something she knows her Rick would never wear if he was back home, but it's him.

She sees him coming closer and knows how he is. He's so sentimental, he hasn't seen any of his family in like 7 to 9 years at this point (after he left we had the 6 year jump and then we had like 3 other month long to year long jumps) she knows that if he realizes she's who she is that it'll get one or both of them killed, so she turns her back in his direction. Keeping herself shielded from him until the fight is over.

He yells at her, and as much as it absolutely rips her heart out to do so she ignores him, knowing she can't look at him fully just yet. He yells again, this time followed by a "there's an exit this way! C'mon"

She turns, keeping her face away from him, by this point he knows this 'mystery woman' is hiding something from him by hiding her face but he can't tell, he assumes its a CRM soldier that knows him. But he's Rick Grimes and at his core, he saves people.

It's alot of blood, guts, gore, and effort, but they make it out, into a building to hide out in, they barricade the door, working in tandem just as they used to, like not a day has passed since they last saw eachother, like nothing's changed, even though everything has.

Rick doesn't even need to get a full sentence out before Michonne is helping him with a cabinet, between the darkness of the building and the helmet on her head he can't make out her face. They aren't safe yet so she doesn't want him too, the moment he realizes she knows they're both going to freeze, to break. The doors boarded, the rooms safe, it's quiet except for their harsh breathing. Michonne is turned away from him. She still can't bring herself to believe its truly him even though she saw him. It was him right?

She takes her helmet off. Rick's breath catches in his throat as he sees her dreads fall out of the helmet, it can't be. Michonne turns, slowly, it's torturous, they're both holding their breaths.

They stand before eachother, facing eachother, both slowly taking the other in, processing that after almost a decade they're reunited.

It's really him.

It's actually her.

Rick's the first to move. Michonne is still struggling to process that he's actually alive, that he's actually in front of her, that he's moving closer, never in her life has she been as frozen as she is right now, except maybe when she looked at RJ for the first time.

Rick's hands are on her face, but it's his lips on hers that break her out of it. It's needy, it's possessive, it's like taking a breath of air after being underwater for a second too long.

It's everything she's needed since that moment she saw him blow himself up all those years ago.

It's hello, I'm sorry, I found you.

She pulls away from him, holding his dace in her hands and then she laughs.

He joins in, holding her back just as delicately, like if they held to hard the other would disappear in their fingertips in a puff of smoke. Like how it has happened in one to many dreams.

"Hi" is all she says, it's soft, softer than she's been able to be in too long.

"Hey," he returns, just as softly, "I've missed you."

That's what starts the next wave of emotions, the tears. Michonne's eyes well up before she can even process what she wants to say. Tears are free falling by the time she chokes out her next sentence mere seconds after the words hit her ears.

They talk, it's about all they do for hours, they settle in for a long night, hearing the dead bang on the doors that are secured. They find something that could have once resembled being comfortable. Rick starts a small fire, just for warmth.

They lay together, entwined in each other's limbs, every possible part of them touching the other, and they talk.

About what Rick's been up to, about Daryl moving into the woods to search for Rick, about how michonne went out everyday for months, searching for him. She conveniently leaves out that she was increasingly pregnant in those months, not knowing how to tell him that he has a son.

She tells him about Judith, how she's grown into a strong young woman, how she's exactly a mix of him and Carl. How brave she is and how she told Michonne to leave to find Rick. She tells him of the time she trusted somebody from the past and they kidnapped Judith, and that her and Daryl went through hell to get Jude back.

How Michonne couldn't bare to lose another piece of Rick.

Rick tells Michonne how he never stopped fighting to get back to them, but everytime he left, everytime he got close, the CRM came and stole him back.

Michonnes seen the soldiers, dead ones anyways. The only breathing one she came across was on his way out. Begging her to put him out of his misery. She did, in return for a map, and any information he could have about Rick.

She didn't get any. Just the map.

Michonne falls asleep first, after so long of being alone. Both back in Alexandria and on the road. The comfort of the man laying next to her, his calm breathing, it lulls her straight to sleep.

Rick kisses her head, promises he's not going anywhere and that they'll see eachother in the morning, and sets up to keep watch.

He's wired. He's overthinking. The CRM are looking for him and this time they might get Michonne too. He can't have that. There's also a voice in the back of his head that's telling him she isn't telling him something.

She stuttered while talking about the kidnapping, when he was listening to her he thought it was just because it was hard to admit she had killed kids. But now, he can't put his finger on it. She also hesitated while talking about looking for him, like she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to do so.

A night of overthinking later and he's somehow convinced himself that she moved on. She found Judith a new dad and herself a new person. It's the only thing that makes sense in his head. The trauma of Lori and Shane shaping his mind in a way he didn't want to think about. It happened before.

When Michonne wakes up, she finds him across the room, completely opposite her.

"Just tell me it's not Daryl." he says when he noticed her awake. The bitterness in his voice cut through her. He's completely 180'd and she can't figure out why.

"What's not Daryl?" she asks, cautiously, confusion evident not only on her gave but in her voice.

"your new man." Rick spits.

"I only have you."

"Then what aren't you telling me?"

Michonne's breath catches in her throat, she still doesn't know how to tell him. After years of not seeing him, not knowing if he's alive or dead, she doesn't want one of the first things he hears from her to be that he has a son who doesn't know his father.

She stares at him, no words can come out.

"Well?" Rick asks, his patients thinning,

She cant say anything, she just shakes her head, there's to many emotions in to quick of succession.

"Who's the other man." it's not a question, "it's not like I can blame you for moving on. I mean you thought I was dead for fucks sake. But did you even wait? To see?" he's spiraling, his words are venom but she can see the hurt in his eyes.

"Rick," she starts, finally a word able to escape. Her shaky tone is reminiscent of a person shushing a wild animal.

"it is Daryl isn't it? Who else would get you to mov-"

"Rick Jr." she cuts him off, her voice confident and it silences him, for minutes they sit in agonizing silence while Rick processes her words.

"Excuse me?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"Rick Jr," Michonne repeats, "is the only new man in my life."

It feels like their words are shattering all over again,

Rick, who was so sure she had moved on within a handful of months, and with hsi best friend, his brother. Hearing he has a namesake. A son. His eyes swell with tears, the information completing its route through his brain.

"I have a son?" its barely a whisper, every syllable shaky and hesitant.

"Yes. I found out right after you blew up the bridge." Michonne starts, feeling a weight off her chest as she moves closer to him, she holds his hand while she tells Rick everything she can about RJ.

They spend days holed up on the building, hiding from walkers and the CRM, talking and more. They make a plan. Rick finding out that he no longer has one kid to get back too, but two rejuvenates his energy to fight.

They fight their way all the way back home. Back to Alexandria. Spending months fighting side by side. They fall right back into their banter, Michonne teasing Rick about being an old man whenever he groans climbing on to something. They're happy. They're strong. They're together.

Almost a full year passes by the time they are knocking on the gates of Alexandria. Things have changed, aged, but it still looks like home. It's Aaron who opens the gate

He blurts out a "holy fuck you're alive." Before giving them both a hug.

They all laugh, Rick throwing out a "I could say the same about you." Before brushing past him looking at the community he once called his home. Completely rebuilt for the third (fourth?) time.

"Where's Jude?" he asks

"not here" Aaron says, and before he can continue Rick cuts him off

"what do you mean not here?" he growls out

"she's living with Carol in another community, it's called the commonwealth." he turns to Michonne "you've missed alot." they both laugh at the obvious, "I can take you to her, let me give them a heads up and get Gracie." Aaron states starting to walk away.

"Hey Aaron," Rick yells before Aaron can get too far

"yea?"

"don't tell her. I wanna surprise her." they both smile and Aaron nods before walking off

Three days later and Rick is all but shaking in anticipation, seeing how big Gracie has gotten took his breath away. How big has Judith gotten? How big is RJ? He never met his son before and yet he can't picture him bigger than a toddler.

Michonne grabs his hands when they see the gates. Aaron pulls out his walkie talkie and announces that they're coming in, the gates open and Carol and Ezekiel are waiting on the otherside waiting to greet them. Aaron couldn't hold his tongue telling Zeke, who couldn't hold his tongue and told Carol. They all vowed to secrecy about telling Judith, wanting to respect Rick's wishes.

There's hugs, long ones.

"it's been too long old friend." Ezekiel states after pulling away from Rick.

"that it has king." Rick says with a nod and a chuckle.

"ah, it's Governor now." Ezekiel laughs, the smile on his face unwavering.

Carols barely holding her tears together, she hasn't seen anybody from her original found family in so long and seeing Rick causes her emotional wall to crack. Their hug is long and sweet, before Carol pulls away telling Rick to follow her to the school to see Judith, class is almost over anyways. She links arms with Michonne for the walk, catching up with her old friend.

They get outside the school with minutes to spare. Rick's hands are shaking, he hasn't felt this nervous in a while. Will she recognize him? Will she run to Michonne and then have to be told who he is?

A bell tolls. Rick's breath catches.

Kids file out if the school, one after one, he doesn't recognize any of them, and it hits him. Will he know who she is?

As he starts to get stuck in his thoughts again he hears a yell. And it takes him back.

"DAD!!" Judith yells, abandoning her post where she waits for RJ and running at the man, her memory of him may have faded but he is so long from forgotten.

Rick bends down as she gets closer, the Impact of her tackling him with a hug knocks the breath out of him and he falls over.

"Judith!" he yells, hugging her tightly and kissing her head. "you're so grown up." he adds as tears start falling freely. He's missed her so much. He's missed so much.

"Judith?" a smaller voice yells from the crowd and it causes the two to separate. "Jude?"

"Over here!" Judith yells, her cheeks wet as she looks at Rick, "I knew mom would bring you back." she states and Ricks heart breaks for his little girl.

"MOM!" a little boy in a sheriffs hat yells as he makes it through the crowd, spotting his mom and running over. Michonne bends down and picks him up in a hug, swinging him around while telling him how much she's missed him.

When they separate RJ stares at Judith and Rick confused, and they all freeze. Time seems to stand still as Rick looks into his sons brown eyes.

Everything starts moving at once as both Judith and Michonne grab RJ's hands and gently pull him towards Rick. Michonne and Rick are both crouched to be at RJ's height and Michonne is the first to speak.

"Baby, this is your dad." she says, her voice soft as she watches the realization cross her sons face.

"Yhe brave man?" RJ asks, remembering the stories Judith would tell him.

"The very one!" Judith pipes up.

"Hi buddy." Rick says shakily.

Without notice RJ jumps onto Rick, hugging him, his right arm catching around Michonne's neck and his left arm catching around Judith's.

When they all pull apart, Rick is staring at his family speechless. He never thought he'd be here again. He thought he had lost them forever and that his kid(s) would grow up without him. Forgetting his existence, and yet. Here they are.

Growing up but not all grown up, remembering him and excited to have him back.

"We're safe here." Judith says, looking at both of her parents. "please don't leave again."

"Never again"

"I'm right here."

They both speak at the same time, their hearts breaking for their daughter. She's grown up so fast in so little time, and they weren't here to help her when she needed it.

But they're here now.

And they're here to stay.

Together.

[unmitigatedsuperiority]

Summary: Spencer is going home. The two of you share a heartfelt farewell. Is this really goodbye? Pairing: Mermaid!Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 4.9k Category: Angst, hurt/comfort Rating: T Warnings: Pseudo-breakups and bittersweet goodbyes A/N: boundless is a story about love but it's also a story about loss. about the fear of losing others, and the fear of losing ourselves. about knowing others on an intimate level—to the point where words are neither necessary nor enough—you just know each other. it's about the complexity of relationships and the uncertainty of everything. because sometimes the most important things or people in our lives are like the ocean: beautiful and out of reach. and that's okay. because no matter what happens, and even if it's not the way you pictured it, you are not alone. no one deserves to go through anything alone. thank you all so much for reading.

read it on ao3 | series masterlist

[previous chapter]

AUGUST — FOUR DAYS AFTER

It was dark when you woke up. The kind of dark where you couldn’t see your hand in front of you. At least, not until your eyes adjusted to the lack of light. As you waited for your vision to clear, you thought about how you didn’t know what it was like to live in the sea, but you imagined it would feel like this. Dark, until it wasn’t anymore.

Perhaps it would feel a little like floating, wading. That moment when you dive into the deep end of a pool after you’ve breached the surface but before you’ve reached the bottom. In some kind of limbo where sinking is the easiest thing in the world. Except the bottom is endless, the pressure suffocating, and it can be hard to just look up and catch a glimpse of the sun hitting the waves above. Captured, in those moments, between the dark and the light. That’s what it felt like waking up in the middle of the night to go see Spencer.

In any other circumstances, you’d be thrilled, overjoyed, to have someone like him in your life. But even in the midst of his sea-song laugh and shared looks and touches, you couldn’t shake the dread in the pit of your stomach. The inevitability that finally came to a head today.

Spencer was going home.

Not for good—you knew that. But it wouldn’t ever be the same. You wouldn’t ever be the same. Holding onto what you and Spencer both wanted was like trying to hold onto sand. Not impossible, but it slowly slips through your fingers all the same. That almost made the ache simultaneously better and worse.

You sat up as your eyes settled on your surroundings. You grabbed your phone to shut off the quiet alarm that had been going off for the better half of a minute and glanced at the clock on the screen. 3:45 AM. It was time.

Shimmying out of bed and into something more fitting for bringing a mermaid out to the beach at three o’clock in the morning, you tamped down your emotions. Relentlessly trying to calm the waves. You briefly thought back to your talk with Tara mere hours ago, hoping that you weren’t waking her up now.

“Tomorrow, huh?” Tara had asked as you emerged from the bathroom. Water dripped down your legs, forming little circles around your feet.

“Yeah. Kind of middle of the night, actually, so not too long from now.” You fiddled with the towel around your shoulders, picking at a loose thread. Tara thinned her lips.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

You exhaled. “Me, too.” The silence between you two grew. You weren’t mad at Tara, you just knew she wouldn’t be able to understand the depth of your feelings, the cycling of your thoughts. She’d never had to return her mermaid boyfriend to the ocean. And in other circumstances, you might have laughed at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“You might hate me, but I did buy a wagon recently. Might come in handy,” Tara shrugged, noncommittal. You furrowed your brows.

“A wagon?”

“Well, someone broke our wheelbarrow trying to get her boyfriend to move in with her,” she countered, cheeky. You couldn’t resist the snort of laughter that came out of you.

“God,” you shook your head. “I wish it were that simple.” You blinked back any telltale signs of sadness, determined to get through this night—you would get through this—when Tara laid a hand on your arm.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as Tara walked away, back into her room. You rolled back your shoulders, determined to get a few hours of rest before what laid ahead. “I’ll need it.”

Now, shy of the crack of dawn, you were back at the closed bathroom door, steadying your breath. You rested the handle of the wheelbarrow on the ground, careful not to make any loud noises. Though you were sure this whole process would eventually wake Tara up regardless. But you knew she wouldn’t come out and disturb you. This felt like a private moment. You gripped the doorknob—preparing yourself for the final time you were ever going to open the door to see Spencer in the tub—and gently pushed it open.

“Hey,” you greeted as coffee-colored eyes peered up at you over the surface of the water, in that way that never ceased to make you giggle. Even now, you felt your mouth turn upwards of its own volition.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, pushing himself to rest his arms on the edge of the tub, his chin on his arms. You took a seat next to him and left the door open behind you. Just a crack. Maybe because there was a part of you that knew that if you closed that door, you’d never want to open it again. You’d want to stay here, forever, you and Spencer lounging in the water and reading each other Shakespeare until the end of time, when you would both grow old and pruny. But his graying pallor grounded you in reality. You gripped his forearm, smiled sadly.

“You’re going home, Spence.” You tried your best to keep a positive lilt to your voice. Tried to not make it sound like the world was crashing down around you like waves in a storm. You weren’t sure if you were successful.

Spencer swished his tail in the water, the sound drowning out your racing thoughts just for a moment. He sat there, contemplating, a watery grin on his face. He looked up at you, unwilling or unable to address the situation, you weren’t sure. “I like it when you call me Spence.”

“I know,” you sighed, ran you fingers through wet locks and down his scalp. He leaned into the motion.

“I…” Spencer bit his lip as he eased himself into his next sentence, “I wish I could take you with me,” he whispered. You thought of sinking down into the dark depths below. Floating, falling.

“I know.” Spencer eyed the exit, glimpsing the handle of the wagon just beyond the doorway.

“Would it make you feel better if I said there was something Shakespearean about the inevitability of all of this?” He asked as looked up at you through his lashes. Pointedly ignoring what he just saw. The reality of it all. You exhaled, ruffled his wet hair.  There was no more time to get lost between the pages of books, oceans of literature. You both needed to go back to your lives. Because this—whatever it was—couldn’t be everything. You weren’t Romeo and Juliet. Except maybe, in some more mundanely tragic way, you were.

“Only if you tell me about it next Sunday,” you told him. He licked his lips.

“Next Sunday,” he affirmed, putting his full weight behind the words. As though those two little words could hold you together like tape and glue. And maybe you needed that right now. Maybe you needed a little tape and glue.

***

Not that you’d ever admit it to Tara, but the wagon was definitely easier. It had taken some problem solving, but eventually you got Spencer into the wagon and the two of you had set off to the shoreline. You paved the way, dragging him through the sand behind you. Part of you wished you could see Spencer, hold his gaze for as long as you possibly could before the eventual separation, but there was another part of you that couldn’t bear it. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d probably go through a thousand hurricanes to try to wipe that sad look off his face. But you didn’t deserve to go through something like that. Spencer knew it, too, which is why it had to happen like this. Now. As much as you could fantasize about the happily ever after, there was something Shakespearean about the inevitability of it all. The pleading you wanted to do with whatever cruel fate was out there, asking some force of nature for a way this could work. If the moon had the power to pull the tides out to sea, would it be so kind as to let Spencer stay in your arms for a little while longer? But maybe this just wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe it was. Just not in the way you wanted.

“The usual spot should work, right?” You asked without turning around. As though this were some Greek myth and looking at Spencer would only make him disappear.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That should work.”

And with that, you tugged along the wagon the final few minutes until you were up against the rocks, waded out a few feet into the water. You hoisted yourself up onto the cool surface and took a deep breath before turning to help Spencer into the water. Your eyes locked as your hands met, the air quickly siphoning out of your lungs. What was it about Spencer that made you feel like a fish out of water?

You let him use you for leverage as he maneuvered himself out of the wagon and into the shallow end. You gently helped move his tail, the touch sending a shiver through him. Your stomach flipped at the sight. Spencer situated himself in the water and leaned his forearms against a rock just below yours, almost level. You leaned forward to compensate. Not even a foot of distance between the two of you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to back away. Instead, you took his hands in yours, and sat like that, palms clasped, as the sky began to lighten to that familiar greyish-blue. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when he finally spoke.

“Y/N, you have changed me in ways I can’t describe. Irreversible ways. Ways that would have some of the more close-minded folks back home losing it.” You ran your fingers over his knuckles, savoring the feel. You considered his words carefully as you chose yours.

“You’ve changed me too, you know,” you said. Because it was true. A wave crested against the rocks to your left, a grand punctuation to the statement. It all felt terribly dramatic, but maybe that’s just how it felt to feel this way towards someone. Like all the world’s a stage.

“In a good way, I hope?” He bit his lip, and you huffed a laugh. Nodded.

“Yeah. In a good way,” you affirmed. “Of course, in a good way.”

“Good,” he replied. Spencer flipped your hands over and brushed the pads of his fingers over your palm once more, igniting sparks in their path. “I’d never want to do anything that would change you for the worse. You matter to me, you know,” he whispered, chewing on his lip once more. His eyes met yours, determined and sad. Your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze, and you forced yourself to exhale. Swallowed.

“I know, Spence.” You gripped his hand tightly. “I know.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t—"

 “I love you.”

The words hit you like a wave. You were kind of hoping he wouldn’t say it. Maybe because part of you had hoped you could just go back to the way things were, even though deep down you knew that could never happen. But saying those words…that felt permanent. Like you couldn’t take those back. Spencer couldn’t take them back. Not that he would. You knew Spencer well enough at this point to know the care and intent he puts behind his words. You knew him like you knew your favorite book. Words cemented in your brain, stories that lingered. You could identify him from the shapes his mouth makes when he speaks, from the tone that he takes before you two say goodbye every week. You’d know him across oceans. You knew him. And that’s how you knew he loved you. But even with all of this knowledge, you never could’ve predicted how hearing those words spoken aloud would make you feel.

See, sometimes, you’d look at Spencer, and feel this sense of longing. And sometimes you’d think you were filled with so much longing, that it couldn’t possibly fit in your body. You’d fall apart in this heaping mess of wanting and yearning. But somehow, you kept it together. Even now, as that feeling intensified tenfold at the sound of those little words. Waking you up like a polar bear plunge at the crack of dawn. Drowning you in the joy of peanut butter sandwiches shared with someone special. Somehow, you managed to grab Spencer’s hand, squeeze it tight, and say…

“I love you, too.”

Spencer laughed, his beautiful sea-song laugh, and you joined in, unsure whether it was joyous or despondent or somewhere in between. Uniquely bittersweet.

“I’ve never been this happy and sad all at once,” you voiced. Spencer placed a finger under your chin, tilting up your face.

“Hey.” He looked at you, determined. “Next Sunday.”

“Next Sunday,” you echoed, and he nodded, retracting his hand. His tongue darted out between his lips; the nervous habit dampened by the tears cascading down to the corners of his mouth. He let out of watery laugh.

“It—it tastes like home,” he said, slightly alarmed. You cocked your head, hummed, questioning. Spencer’s eyes darted between yours, searching.

“I’ve never cried on land before. I—” Spencer licked his lips once more, finding the words. “Why does sadness taste like home? Why is sorrow this horribly familiar?”

You felt a tear of your own roll down your cheek before you quickly wiped it away. “I wish I knew,” you told him. Another tear of your own escaped, and you let it run its course. You couldn’t stop what was happening. You shouldn’t. After all, you’d already tried. And all that did was serve as a reminder that mermaids don’t belong in bathtubs.

All that time in the aftermath of the storm—maybe even before the storm—it was an unspoken thing. Whispered in on a cool ocean breeze. This was never going to work. Because it couldn’t. Not in the way you both needed it to. He was a creature of the sea, and you were the person who went ahead and fell in love with him. Except he fell in love with you, too. Romeo and Juliet never felt more cruelly poetic.

Someone always wants more than the other can give. Luke’s warning wasn’t totally accurate. What could you call it when you both wanted the same things, but they were cruelly out of reach? You could give him the world’s largest bathtub, but he would never be safe on the shore. Spencer could give you the entire ocean in all its endless beauty, but you’d never feel at home in the sea. You couldn’t overcome this last barrier without sacrificing a bit of yourselves. You wouldn’t want that for him, not really. And he would never ask you to do it, either. You couldn’t force it. So, you would take what you could get, whatever that was.

“Next Sunday?” Spencer asked, hopeful. You nodded, blinking back tears.

“Next Sunday.” Truthfully, you didn’t know how you’d be able to bear seeing him knowing what you know now.

Spencer grazed his hand against your cheek, knuckles soft against your skin. Water dripped from his fingertips, leaving your cheeks even more damp than they already were. You looked up at him—his deep honey-brown eyes, long lashes, pink lips. Watched, enthralled, when a flash of tongue poked out as he licked them. He shifted, rotated his hand so that it cupped your jaw. All the air suddenly sucked out of your lungs. Like a fish out of water. Yet you knew it wasn’t air you were lacking.

You leaned down, slowly, until your forehead came to rest against his. Damp curls pressed against the top of your head. You kept your eyes open, flicking down to glance at his tail drifting in and out of the water. You looked back up to find Spencer staring at you, something desperate in his gaze. As though he was the ocean itself and you were the shore, and nothing could stop him from reaching you.

Air whooshed in your ears as a wave broke around you, misting your face lightly. It was then that Spencer kissed you.

His lips were warm, contrasting the cool ocean breeze, the chill of the rocks. His hand gripped the line of your jaw as you kissed him back fervently. The tiny ocean beneath your ribs kicking up a storm. You snuck away to glance at him, the desperation in his gaze, the quirk of his mouth. You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you came back together, cresting and falling with each press of lips. Cyclical.

Your fingers slid along his cheek, under his chin, holding him close to you as you breathed him in. He tasted like saltwater and coffee and something else you couldn’t put into words. But words didn’t really matter right now. What mattered was Spencer swiping his tongue against your bottom lip in a way that made you groan.

As you opened yourself up to him, his hands tightened against you, grasping at your shoulders. That same quiet frenzy you felt as you held onto him. Sand slipping through your fingers.

Spencer broke away first, the need for air trumping his desire to be kissing you. You heard another wave crash in the distance, everything around you having suddenly increased in volume now that you weren’t absorbed in Spencer. You framed his face with your hands, leaned your forehead against his.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” you said.

“Not if I see you first,” he replied, cheeky. You kissed the grin off his face, partly because you could, partly because you wanted him to stay for just a moment longer.

Spencer leaned back, traced your cheekbone with his thumb, and gently kissed the invisible line he had just drawn. Then, with a sad smile, he dipped back under the waves, blue-green fins drifting up and over the current before disappearing into the deep.

You stood up and watched as the ripples caused by the motion spread out across the surface. Overlapping and intertwining until the eventual natural sway of the waves overtook it. The silence was overbearing. Yet even with Spencer so far away, you still felt it. The rhythm. A kind of interconnectedness no words could name, no dictionary could define. The ocean was a cruel and heartless place, but it was also one of wonder.

You were about to turn away when you heard a splash to your left. Suddenly, a familiar mop of wet brown curls emerged into view. Spencer leaned forward against the rocks, sending your heart fluttering through your chest. He flashed you a crooked smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you laughed in disbelief. You ran back towards the water, leaning down to meet him. And as the waves arched up to meet the shore, you and Spencer collided once again. Arms tight, shifting from two almost-lovers into something undefinable. Because while you couldn’t be together in the way you longed for, not even the entire stretch of the sea could keep you apart for long.

“I told you I’d see you first,” he said, smile audible. You huffed a laugh. Your clothes were clinging uncomfortably to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when it came to Spencer. Not now when he was holding you in a way that felt secure, familiar. You both had come a long way since that hug you shared in your bathroom the first night of the storm. You pulled away to get a good look at him, droplets of water descending down the curve of his nose, the curls in his hair. You ran your hands up and down his shoulders as you followed a droplet running down to his lip, unable to tear your gaze away. When you looked back up, Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet your stare. Then, back down. And without a moment’s hesitation, his lips were back on yours. As you gave into the kiss, you secretly hoped that there would be more of this in your future. Even if this was kind of goodbye. You couldn’t be certain of anything, but neither could Spencer. That was maybe the only thing you couldbe certain of.

“Okay, now I really do have to go,” he said as he broke the kiss, a grin plastered on his face. You felt your cheeks heat as you attempted to present yourself as less breathless than you really were. Spencer’s grin only widened as he watched this happen. You couldn’t fool him. He knew you.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he affirmed, kissing you once more, quick, but still meaningful enough to create a tsunami in your chest.

And then he was gone—for real this time—along with all the words you could not say.

But you weren’t sad. Or…you weren’t as sad as you thought you would be. You couldn’t exactly say you were happy, either, after all. No. You were somewhere in between. And you’d stay there for a while. In the in between. It wasn’t where you wanted to be but trying to control what was going on in your heart was as fruitless as trying to control the ocean itself. So, you sauntered across the rocks, picked up the handle to the now-empty wagon, and made your way back toward the house. You licked your lips as you felt the dampness travel down your face.

Saltwater.

***

Penelope and Tara were in the living room when you walked through the door, leaving the wagon at the entrance. You overheard Penelope ask what was wrong as you sulked down the hallway, heading towards the solitary bubble of your bedroom.

“Oh, she and this guy she’d been seeing broke up. She’s taking it pretty hard,” Tara whispered.

“Aw, poor bub,” Penelope replied, sincere.

You sniffed, almost wanting to laugh at Tara’s wording. You still couldn’t truly define what you and Spencer had, if you were seeing each other or if it was something else entirely, but Tara aptly described the situation. Because, yeah, you were taking it pretty hard.

As you made your way down the hallway, you stopped in front of the bathroom, heart stuttering in your chest. You pushed open the door, stomach sinking at how small and cold and empty the room felt now that Spencer was gone. You sunk down to the floor in front of the tub, leaned back against it and closed your eyes. You took deep breaths as a substitute for the tears that threatened to spill. It wasn’t as though he was gone for good. You’d see him again. Things just wouldn’t be the same. Maybe they would be better, maybe worse. You just couldn’t know, and you kind of accepted that. But part of you still yearned for that blissful ignorance you’d once shared with him. Peanut butter sandwiches and a close kinship. No grand romantic feelings declared to complicate things.

As you scanned the bathroom, a flash of blue-green caught your eye. You bent down, peering underneath the barren clawfoot tub. A solitary book laid discarded underneath, just barely in sight. You picked up the tattered copy, only stopping once you glimpsed the cover.

Romeo & Juliet.

You chuckled, tearful. Sadness and happiness and everything in between bubbled up beneath your ribs at the sight. Carefully, you flipped through the water-soaked pages, annotations in two different handwritings littering the margins. You smiled, bittersweet, at the smudged ink. Eventually, you got to the last pages. You were about to put the book away when you saw more writing on the final blank page. It was Spencer’s endearingly shaky penmanship. Like a ship called to sea, you settled further back against the edge of the tub and gripped the book tight, feeling everything you’d been holding back spill over as you read Spencer’s final written words to you.

Tara interrupted your thoughts with a knock on the door, resting against the frame. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, let out a watery laugh. “No, not really.” You let the book rest in your lap, a finger bookmarking the page. “You’re up early. Penelope, too.”

She shut the door behind her, bent down to sit beside you. You were selfishly glad you had Tara. You hoped Spencer would be able to confide in someone where he was, too. This wasn’t something anyone should have to face alone.

“I thought you’d need a friend, and Penelope is one of those freaky morning people,” Tara explained as she got comfortable on the ground. She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she comforted you as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into her chest. You snaked an arm around her waist, clutching the paper in your hand.  “How’d it go?”

“I’m in love with him,” you admitted, letting the words spill out. “And he’s in love with me. But now he’s gone. And I don’t even know if we were really together, you know? We never talked about it. It was like a non-breakup.”

She nodded, silent for a beat. “You’ll see him again, though, yeah?”

“He came back not even a minute after he left, actually,” you laughed. “Next Sunday. I’ll be seeing him next Sunday.” You repeated it to yourself like a mantra. Tara smiled.

“See? He’s not gone. At least not for good.”

“I know. It just hurts. Knowing that this—whatever it is—is real, but we can’t quite have it.”

Tara crossed her legs as she ran her hand up and down your arm. “I wish things were different for you two. I’ve never seen you so happy before he came around,” she admitted. You sighed.

“He makes me happy. He still does. I’m just more sad than happy right now, I think.” You sniffed, and Tara pulled you in closer to her. You leaned your head against her shoulder, and she rested her head against yours.

“I wish I could make it better,” she offered. “Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?” You snorted at the suggestion.

“It’s August. And it’s like a hundred degrees outside,” you countered with logic. Tara shrugged, slightly shifting you with the motion.

“I refuse to place seasonal limitations on enjoying hot chocolate.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I’ll have some. In a minute, though. Just…stay here for a little while longer?” You glanced up at her, vulnerable. She hummed, gave you another squeeze.

“Anything you need.”

You exhaled shakily, burrowing into her embrace, grateful for the luxury to fall apart. You thought back to last night, when you were almost mad at her lack of understanding. Now, you couldn’t imagine not having her to lean on. “Penelope won’t be upset that I’m hoarding her girlfriend?”

“Have you met the woman? If I hadn’t come up here, she’d break this door down herself and lovingly smother you. I figured you could use some time before getting smothered.”

You barked a laugh before turning to face Tara again. “She’s a good one.”

“I know,” she agreed. You sat up, bringing your hands together to fidget.

“And I appreciate it. I appreciate you,” you told her. It was silent for a beat before Tara said anything.

“Wow, you are taking this hard.”

“Shut up,” you nudged her shoulder with your own. “Shouldn’t you be saying I told you so?”

“Hey,” she moved her hand down to grab yours. “No. Absolutely not, you hear me? As much as I love being right, never at this kind of cost. You’re important to me, you know.”

“Wow, I should go through devastating non-breakups more often,” you joked. Tara chuckled.

“Now who needs to shut up?” You smiled, filled with a gratitude that made the sadness ache just a little less. You both sat in silence for a while, Tara clasping your hand in hers, your heads resting together once more.

“I’m not okay,” you spoke suddenly. She hummed.

“I know.”

“But I will be.” You looked up at her, attempting to be hopeful. She smiled at you, small.

“I know.”

After several minutes of sitting on the bathroom floor in silence—well, save for some sniffling on your part—Tara pulled you up so the two of you set out to get some hot chocolate. You stopped in front of the door, though, and motioned for Tara to give you a minute. She nodded and silently slipped out of the room, leaving you alone in the too-small bathroom. It really felt so much larger with Spencer in here to keep you company.

You made your way back to the empty tub, picking up the copy of Romeo and Juliet you’d left just below it. You smoothed out the wrinkled edges of the note Spencer had left you, dropped it onto the small table that lay just to your right, reading it again. And then reading it once more for good measure. Then, you stood up straight, rolled back your shoulders, and turned to leave. You shut off the lights and exited the room, closing the door on this chapter, but leaving it open just a crack. Because this story wasn’t finished. There’d be more to come, you were sure of it. What that entailed, you weren’t sure, but you knew that no matter what happened, you would be okay.

Now, in the darkened bathroom, the book remained open, its message facing the empty room:

Y/N, my love for you is boundless. And like the waves of the sea repeatedly crashing into the shore, kissing the sand over and over again, I will always come back to you.

Spencer

FIN.

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[lovelyhan]

Kai hi! Don't know how and why but, I've been experiencing severe Seventeen brainrot in general so, I'm here to supply hard thoughts. (Also, I reread the JeongCheol x Reader trilogy you wrote and it remains a favourite of mine.)

I don't know who to start with so, I'll go with my man lol. The thought of being forced to cum on Cheol's ridiculously thick fingers makes me need to sit down. You know he'd be running his mouth too and, telling you how good you're doing for him.

the svt brainrot is well-deserved <3 and JAAHFJHD i'm so touched you reread inflection point thank you so much TT BUT HELLO? being forced to cum on cheol's fingers.... [kai.exe has stopped working]?!??!?

it kind of reminds me of the oneshot i wrote after he posted those pics on ig :| his fingers,,, what i'd do to get to cum around them /gen,, you can treat this drabble as a short continuation to that fic :3c

⟣ forced orgasm with cheol ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

When he tells you he'll pick you up at seven o'clock on a Friday evening despite his harrowing schedule, he'll pull up at the curb in front of your apartment with five minutes to spare. When he promises to call you every night he's away on tour, he'll phone you despite the time differences, and the fact that he sounds way too tired to be asking you about your day.

So when your boyfriend promises to stuff you full the next time you see each other, you know better than to call his bluff.

About twenty minutes since he hung up, you hear the telltale knocking on your door. You don't bother putting your underwear back on -- fully confident of the identity of your late-night visitor.

It's safe to say that when Seungcheol sees you behind the crack in the door wearing nothing but a flimsy tank top with your pert nipples straining against the fabric, you were completely at his mercy.

You don't even make it back to your room. Seungcheol simply brushes past you and makes himself comfortable on your couch -- dark eyes hooded with equal parts arousal and disappointment as he manspreads all over the cushions. Fuck.

"If I wasn't the one who was outside, what would've you done then?" he asks gruffly. "I didn't know you were such a fucking slut, princess. Answering the door wearing nothing but that top of yours. Might as well have done it naked."

You humor him with a laugh before striding over to take a seat on one of his thighs, making a mess of his sweatpants as you rub your needy pussy all over the fabric.

"That's just how badly I need you, Cheol," you whimper, sliding your hips against his thigh for the friction you've been craving since you saw those pictures he posted. When you feel those big, warm hands of his sliding up your thighs, you can't help the moan that spills from your lips.

"Turn around and sit on my lap," he commands, and you're much too willing to comply.

The moment your back is pressed against his broad chest, Seungcheol pries your legs apart -- gathering your slick between his fingers before prodding your lips with them. When your boyfriend whispers a quiet, "That's my girl," you practically preen at his praise.

And that's how you find yourself writhing on your boyfriend's lap as he fucks you open on his thick, large fingers -- whining and crying as your walls clamp down on each digit. Seungcheol deigned to start with three, as you've already loosened yourself up during that sultry phone call you shared before he came over, and he delights in how depraved you are from his mere fingers alone.

"Such a good fucking girl for me, aren't you?" he rasps, sinking those digits into your cunt before curling them just so. "You miss me that much, baby? Want to keep me all to yourself?"

"F-Fuck, Cheol!"

You can't even bring yourself to respond. He's so thick, and so, so deep, and he hasn't even brought out his dick yet. But when your brain manages to make you remember how you felt seeing all those fans thirsting for your boyfriend, you end up hissing through your teeth as you grind down on his hand.

"Mine, mine, mine. You're mine," you mewl, barely hearing the sound of Seungcheol's amused laughter before he smashes your lips together.

"All yours, princess," he whispers, and you cry out when those few, subtle words end up becoming the catalyst for your inevitable release.

But even as your walls spasm around his fingers, Seungcheol is relentless. He continues fucking into your cunt with unending fervor -- as if he means to engrave the idea of how much he's missed you as well into your body. You're practically twitching on his lap as he mumbles an incoherent string of words against the skin of your neck, but you're not exactly in the right headspace to tell him off.

"My beautiful baby, always so pretty when you cum for me," is what you first hear when the white noise finally recedes from your ears. You realize that you're still moving your hips despite the overstimulation, so fucking desperate to have any part of him inside you again. "You want more? I've fucked you stupid with my fingers alone, and you still want more?"

You do. You do want more.

"I remember a certain someone saying he'll blow my back out the moment he's back here with me," you sigh, tilting your head so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "Is he going to make good on his promise?"

The ravenous glint in his eyes is enough of an answer. After all...

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

[sirmanmister]

Behold one of the cutest things I’ve ever drawn

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Casey/RJ playlist!

Up next on my Power Rangers playlists is Casey/RJ!

Now I'm a little shocked going back and realizing how popular this fic got! I'm rather proud of the character development in it, but to find out that it's the most viewed&kudosed Casey/RJ fic on ao3? Was a bit of a shock. I'm so grateful for everyone that's read or enjoyed it- this playlist is for y'all!

@skyland2703 @madhare0512 @khruschevshoe @liveinalovelyway @disastardly @augment-techs

[claudia-kishi]

🤭🤭🤭