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Post Weirdmageddon, Stanley continues to recover his memories. It's a gradual process, one that he sometimes gets frustrated with, but he's surrounded with a support system of friends and family that are more than happy to help.
Every so often, Stanford checks in with Fiddleford, who's a few steps ahead of Stanley in the memory recovery process and is an invaluable resource of knowledge and helpful tips. The fact that he invented the memory gun also helps, of course, and although he won't ever rebuild the thing, he has been studying the old one and just how it affects the mind.
During these calls between old friends/colleagues, Fiddleford will casually ask after Stanley's progress and general wellbeing, and Stanford will relay a summary of Stanley's most recent recovered memories.
One day over the phone, Fiddleford says, "So we know Stanley's recovered much of his childhood memories, some of his early twenties, and he's able to recall quite a bit of the past several years. Has he, ah, mentioned anything 'bout his time in the '80s? When he first started runnin the Mystery Shack and workin on the portal?"
"Not that I know of," Stanford answers. "I'll ask the kids. If he's mentioned anything to them, then Dipper's already added it to his notes." He frowns. "Should we be worried that he hasn't recalled anything from that period in his life, yet?"
"No, no," Fiddleford says. "At least, I don't think so. This all seems to be a sort of non-linear recovery process. Sorta like a stack o' cards that's fallen on the floor all mixed up and on top of each other, and he's pickin up the ones on the top layer, completely outta order. For all we know, this could be the card he picks up last." He pauses and clears his throat. "But if he does start mentioning anythin from that time - anythin at all from events to sensory memories or, uh, people - you be sure to let me know. I'd like to add it to my notes."
He sounds almost too casual. Stanford doesn't want to doubt his friend after all this time, but he vividly remembers what Fiddleford sounds like when he's trying to be sneaky, and he sounds like it right now. So much as he doesn't want to be, Stanford's suspicious.
He's just not quite sure what to be suspicious of.
He files the suspicion away for later. "You got it, old buddy."
"Well alrighty then! I'll call again tomorrow to check on today's progress. And why don't you order him an egg and sausage omelet from Greasy's? The one with all that cheese on top - but no mushrooms. He hates those. His favorite foods might jog his memories a bit."
Stanford blinks. "We were actually thinking of doing that. But how do you -?"
Fiddleford hangs up.
Stanford's still blinking at the phone, frowning, when Stanley walks up behind him.
"Hey, who was that?" Stanley asks. "Why do you look like someone just gave you a math problem you can't solve?"
"There are very few of those left in the universe," Stanford says, only half joking, and smiles when Stanley rolls his eyes, chuckling.
"Yeah, yeah, my brother the genius - whatever. Look, since you're on the phone already, why dontcha call up Fidds and tell him to pick up some pizza. If the kids are hungry, then you know I'm starving."
"Alright, but no broccoli pizza this time, I --" Stanford freezes. "Wait. Fidds?"
"Yeah, he's not in the shack or out back, so he's gotta be out in town, right?"
There's only one person that "Fidds" can be, but Stanford hasn't heard anyone use Fiddleford's nickname since college. He raises an eyebrow at Stanley, who's relaxing back in his recliner.
"Fidds, Stanley?"
"Yeah," Stanley says, raising an eyebrow back at his brother. "You know, your nerdy buddy? Scrawny guy with an accent? Helped me out with the portal right after you got stuck in it--"
"What?" Stanford's never heard about this. From either of them.
Stanley goes on, "Can't fight off a gnome to save his life but builds a giant crazy gnome robot anyway - whaat? Why're you looking at me like that?" Stanley sits up and his confusion becomes anger, almost startling Stanford out of his shocked state. "What, now that I'm getting all these memories back, you're uncomfortable?"
Stanford has no idea what he's talking about. "What? Uncomfortable with what?"
"With your college buddy shacking up with your twin brother," Stanley snaps. "We've been together for years. Maybe you should get over it, huh?"
"Get over it?" Stanford's reeling. Fiddleford's strangeness suddenly makes sense. "Stanley, I would never - I would accept you however you - I'm not straight, either, you know, and - wait." He holds up one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose with the other. "Before we even get into that - WHAT?"
Stanley blinks. "What??"
"You - you and - when did you-" Stanford throws his hands in the air. "He doesn't live here!"
"What?" Stanley snorts. "Yeah he does. I told him to move in."
"When?"
"Back in the '80s," Stanley says. "I just started remembering this morning. Where's be been, anyway? Why hasn't he been doing nerdy shit with you in the lab lately?"
Stanford's leaning against the sofa's armrest, mind racing. He answers distractedly, "We haven't been in the lab together since before you came to Gravity Falls, Stanley."
"Bull. You expect me to believe you two aren't cooking up some science project already?"
"Stanley..."
"What," Stanley says. Then he grins. "Are you the one with messed up memories now or what? Jeez, I got a better memory than my genius brother - and I've been hit with the memory gun twice!"
"Twice?" Stanford turns a sharp look on his brother. "What do you mean, twice?"
"Yeah. That one time when you used it on me, and then back in the '90s when Fidds . . ."
Stanley trails off. He blinks and then frowns, gaze falling to the floor as he mutters, "Back when Fidds . . . when he used it on me the first time, and. . ."
Realization dawns on them both at once, and Stanley looks at Stanford with an odd mix of emotions.
"Stanley," Stanford says in an effort to calm him. "What exactly do you remember of-"
"Who cares!" Stanley jumps to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "He used that thing on me! When I told him not to - when I asked - begged -" Stanley punches the wall and glares at the splinters littering his knuckles. His voice is shaking. "After everything we went through - he just took off 'cause he was, what, scared? Do you have any idea how much I've forgotten? Who knows if I'm gonna remember any of it? I didn't want him to leave! And after he did and used the gun, I - I was so broken and angry I didn't know why, couldn't remember why--"
With a growl, Stanley grabs the car keys from the little bowl by the TV and stomps towards the front door. "Get in the car. I've got a bone to pick with your old college buddy."
Stanford grabs his journal and hurries after his brother, calling for the kids as they head to the car. They're all likely going to be at Fiddleford's new mansion for some time.
He certainly has a bit of explaining to do.
#gf#fiddlestan#stanley pines#stanford pines#fiddleford mcgucket#might clean this up later for ao3#just a blurb for now#which uh got a lot longer than i'd meant it to be#look this is the most fiddlestan angst i can handle ok
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Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.
Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.
That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.
The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.
Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.
Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.
#team fortress 2#tf2#that's it that's the only tags i am putting this in. maybe someday i will have the balls to do more but for now that's about it#while i have the chance - and since posts with more of my yapping in the tags don't pop in people's feeds much - i might as well ramble-#-about these guys here. self-inserts or not i'm projecting only half of my bullshit on each one of them. creativity 👍#backup is tall and pale and has sharp canines and more of a dull brown hair colour with tired grey eyes. no amount of babyface or soft-#-hands can really help a motherfucker when he's grimacing so much because he just Hates being around half the people on the team.#cleaner meanwhile is on the shorter side and has constantly flushed skin and brighter colours and whatnot. you can't see it because of the-#-mask most of the time but they do smile a lot more and have a more cheery disposition towards life and see the whole team as their friends!#backup transitioned fully (albeit not very legally lmao) and is scared shitless of not being seen as a man although the last time that ever-#-came up was years ago. he holds onto his last name as part of the heritage he loves and loathes at the same time - attached to his culture-#-and religion and bloodline while also resentful of his family and the regime he knows someone else on the team suffered under.#cleaner just kinda binds and calls it a day. he only does it to confuse the team because while he doesn't identify with being a girl he-#-loves the confused looks his epic gender reveal moment gets. they do not remember their family name or where they grew up or what even got-#-them to this kind of mental state. and he's chill with it he values the here and now way more than some dark edgy backstory.#backup despite trying to be an honest man is afraid of vulnerability as well. he stubbornly refuses to express love towards certain people-#-lest they feel disgusted and turn away. he's afraid of consequences afraid of losing the people he loves afraid of his ''interests'' being-#-what drives them away. it doesn't by the way and he just wasted time being a cold indecisive loser for several months lmao#cleaner wears a suit that hides all of them yes but they pretty much never lie. he is always his truest self and he can always just burn-#-people who don't like him enough to make it a problem. they are a lot more comfortable indulging in their interests - be they innocent-#-and juvenile or violent and dangerous. he is quite open with his affection and his fascinations that backup would rather keep secret.#i want to establish that these two can only exist in separate universes because they both have feelings towards the funny assistant lady-#-and the funny inventor guy (selfshipping for the winnn) and would fight over those two. cleaner would win by the way#it's also a really funny point of comparison. cleaner is objectively more fucked up than backup and still managed to be more normal about-#-their feelings and live as a healthier and happier person than that guy. comedic gold honestly#OKAY I'M DONE if you read up to here you get uhhh a cookie :-)
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Hi hello friend!
As it is almost the Spooky Season (yes i know its September), do you have any halloween or all hallow's eve traditions from your area? How do you celebrate?
hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!! hellooooo!!!!!!! hiiii!! I mean yeah, it is only ALMOST the Spooky Season, but I've already started looking for halloween decorations I could get myself lol. I love halloween and the Spooky Season so much!!
I come from a very religious and conservative area and to add to that Halloween is not popular in Poland in my expierence. The only time I’ve heard about trick or treating was like 2 years ago when my aunt was complaining about trick or treaters.
There’s a christian holiday called „all saints day” (Wszystkich Świętych” in polish) on the first of november and I’m pretty sure it’s the more popular holiday here. Basically it’s about visiting your dead relatives graves and lighting the candles on them. Never really celebrated halloween, despite liking it. I'd like to watch friday the 13th this week, since I've never watched it was friday the 13th yesterday. I've also thought about trying to watch at least one horror movie every week this Spooky Season and do a marathon on the weekend closest to halloween. I love scary movies.
If you want to hear a "silly" story regarding halloween, last year during RE lesson the priest told us he saw on FACEBOOK how halloween actually means "Hell's win" and how it's terrible, satanist and anti christian etc.
I’ve tried explaining that it means hallow’s eve and how it’s just a fun thing for people to do, especially for children. But he was not having it, interrupted me mid sentence, started talking louder and louder as I was finishing my sentence (in a monotone voice, I was not being loud in the slightest lol) and he went on about how it's satanist, Eviiiiil and sinister and anti - christian for children to dress up as fictional characters and eat candy until a few people in the back googled it and told him I was right on the meaning and he slowly stopped. Yeah dude, if you talk just slightly louder whatever u r saying might just about become true, that’s how truth’s determined, you were this close🤏. You should try interrupting people and ignoring what they say more often🙄
#asks#my posts#I talk#thank you for the ask!!!#hope you're doing well!#sorry for talking so much#I'm in the RE only because unless you're 18 u need your parents to sign a note that u won't be attending the RE lessons#If I had the choice I would not be attending those lessons#god I don't think someone who bases their entire beliefs on facebook posts should be teaching anyone in schools#or even in churches like wtf??#they actually replaced the priest teaching us last year#the previous one seemed okay?#during one lesson I'm pretty sure he said he's okay with gay marriages in church#although not 100% sure since I was not fully listening that lesson#My ears activated as soon as I heard “homosexual” or “gay” so it was a nice surprise he said that#since that's not something u expect#like I'm in a class full of racist sexist homophobic etc. boys#and he said that casually#ngl impressed me a bit#every now and then I wonder whether they still sell leaded gasoline here#or maybe our pipes are all lead#or maybe people just don't invest in smoke detectors so gas leaks are common?#no idea why so many people here are so conservative and just bigots in general#maybe it has to do with the place being really religious or smth idk
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my special girls | lewis hamilton x fem! reader
summary; one of the greatest days in lewis’ life, his 104th win and the birth of his daughter.
warnings; mentions of pregnancy/labor, probs labor inaccuracies
word count; 1.4k
all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts
note; i need to see more lewis fics after 104th🙂↕️🙂↕️BUT ALZKLALSSM 104TH THATS MY GOATTTT THATS WHY HE’S THE GOATT😭😭❤️🩹❤️🩹
masterlist !
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The Mercedes garage was tense, more tense than usual. The final laps of the British Grand Prix made everyone nervous and anxious. Lewis was just laps away from his 104th win.
Both George, who unfortunately had to retire due to issues with his car, and Carmen stood by a very anxious 9-month pregnant Y/n Hamilton. Although Lewis advised his wife to stay home due to how far along she was in her pregnancy despite it being his home race, she refused.
Carmen held onto her hand, their eyes focused on the screen as the final lap began. Although she was also upset with what happened to George, the couple couldn’t help but feel happy for the 7x world champion.
Time seemed to pass by slowly as Lewis drove around the final corners. Y/n didn’t notice anything happening around her, her focus completely on the screen.
‘Lewis Hamilton wins the 2024 British Grand Prix.’
Those 8 words the married couple longed to hear were finally being said. Y/n carefully but quickly jumped up from her seat, cheering loudly as her husband passed the checked flag. With one hand around her pregnant stomach and the other being thrown in the air while crying, she didn’t even notice the faint cramping in her abdomen.
The team rushed to meet up with Lewis, Carmen staying behind to help Y/n who slowly waddled behind the rushing team. She couldn’t hold back her tears as she watched her husband hugging his father in tears.
She stayed with the Spanish girl, not wanting to be within the grand crowd for safety reasons. Her vision was cloudy from tears. There were black smudges around her eyes as she carefully wiped her eyes to not mess up her cheeks.
Through her teary eyes, she could see the deep brown eyes she fell in love with years ago right in front of her.
Lewis carefully wrapped his arms around her, keeping a hand on her stomach. “My loves.” He whispered, pressing a kiss against her plump lips. “You both okay?
Y/n reaches up to carefully wipe the stray tears on his cheek. “Worrying about me after winning?” She teases through tears. “We’re fine and we’re so proud of you.” She cradled his face in her hands.
Only she knew how much Lewis had truly struggled after that day in 2021. She knew the mental anguish he went through whenever a race went poorly, so desperate to prove to others he was still as good as he was in his prime. She knew how hurt he had been with what was happening with Mercedes, wanting to spend his last season with the German team in a good way.
It seemed everything he had been through was worth it when Y/n revealed she was pregnant. Suddenly, everything didn’t matter. He just wanted to be there for his wife and child.
9 months later, he was washed over with a large wave of emotions as he passed the checkered flag knowing his pregnant wife was in the crowd.
“Gotta make sure my girls are okay,” Lewis mumbled, resting his head in the crook of her neck. Her long nails gently scratched his scalp. She hummed as she felt him press a kiss on her shoulder. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” Y/n whispered back as he lifted his head from her hold. She gestured toward where the reporter was waiting for a quick post-race interview before the podium. “Go, my love, we’ll be waiting for you after you’re all done.”
With one last kiss, Lewis left her to do his post-race interview. She left with Carmen to slowly waddle walk back to the garage. She didn’t feel quite comfortable being part of the crowd during the podium celebration so she opted to watch from the TV in the garage.
They had barely made it back when Y/n suddenly felt another sharp pain in her abdomen. She felt a small puddle of liquid by her feet. Carmen and her look down at the puddle before making eye contact.
“The baby?” The Spanish girl questioned, trailing off when the pregnant woman nodded.
“Is coming.”
Lewis’s mother, Carmen, had kept a close eye on her daughter-in-law the entire day. She noticed the panicked look on both of the girls’ faces and rushed over to them. “Is everything alright, dear?”
“Her water broke.” The Spanish girl explained, keeping her hand interlocked with the laboring woman.
“Don’t tell Lewis yet. I want him to enjoy this day.” Y/n said in between deep breaths. Before either woman could protest, she added, “Do not test me right now. The contractions aren’t bad yet and I don’t want to go to the hospital until there are a few minutes in between.”
“Let’s take you to his driver's room then, dear.” The elder Carmen says, taking her daughter-in-law in her arms and helping her. The younger Carmen followed behind due to the two becoming quite close.
Time had passed and Lewis was finishing up all his media duties. He wanted nothing more than to be in the embrace of his wife on such a special day. His eyebrows furrowed up when he couldn’t find her in the garage. He looked around confused until he saw Carmen appear out of his motor room looking distressed as she spoke with George who was waiting outside.
“What's going on?” Lewis asked confused, feeling a surge of worry running through his veins.
“Y/n, her water broke earlier and we wanted to get you but she refused! Your mom only let her refuse because her contractions weren’t too bad yet,” The Spanish girl explained to Y/n’s worried husband. “But they’re getting closer now so I came to get you and-“
Lewis didn’t let her finish before rushing into his motorhome. He spotted Y/n leaning against the wall with his mother supporting her by her arm. “My love, why’d you wait this long?” He softly says, quietly thanking his mother before taking her place with his wife.
“Wanted you to enjoy this day and your win-“
“But you’re pregnant and in labor. This is far more important and urgent.”
“So does that mean we can go to the hospital now?”
Lewis sighed, shaking his head as a smile crept up on his lips. He turned to his mom before grabbing Y/n’s bag, “I’ll take her now. I’ll keep you updated.”
His mother simply nodded and gave her son a kiss on his cheek. She gives Y/n an encouraging smile before whispering, “If your daughter is anything like my son, it’ll be a fast delivery.”
Y/n chuckled at her words before waving goodbye to her. Lewis sighed as he easily scooped her up in his arms. Fortunately, George had called an ambulance which was waiting by the entrance of the paddock just in time.
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Although winning after so long at home was so special to Lewis, he knew nothing could beat what he currently felt as he cradled the tiny baby in his arms.
Hours before he held the golden trophy signifying he won his 104th race. Now, he’s holding one of the most important girls in his life.
Just like her father, little Ophelia came out fast. Y/n was only in the hospital for an hour or so before it was time for her to push. Tears hadn’t stopped flowing from their faces from the moment Lewis won to even after Ophelia’s birth.
“What a day.” Y/n sleepily chuckled, waking up from a nap that had been knocked out for a while. Lewis turned around with a sleeping Ophelia still in his arms. “You win a race and you get a daughter who is identical to you even if I carried her for 9 months?”
“How are you feeling?” He asked his wife who scooted over to the side, signaling for him to sit next to her.
“Tired. Happy, but tired.” She immediately melted into his side.
She gently runs her finger over Ophelia’s cheek. The newborn was still in deep sleep, clearly exhausted after being born just a few hours earlier.
Lewis couldn’t help but admire the two. June 7th was undoubtedly one of the happiest days of his life. He’s won many times before. He’s won trophies and world championships. Winning at home after 3 years was something special. But winning in life with his wife by his side and his daughter in his arms was something unexplainable.
He leaned down to press a kiss on Ophelia’s forehead before pressing a kiss against Y/n’s lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you two. My special girls.”
#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#formula one scenarios#f1 imagine#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 scenarios#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton scenarios#lewis hamilton imagine
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BAD IDEA, RIGHT?
Bangchan x reader. (s)
Synopsis: Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea. (14,4k words)
Author's note: Yes, it's inspired by that one Olivia Rodrigo song.
Talking to your ex is a bad idea, right?
You've been considering whether to slide into his DM or not, commenting on his Instastory which is a video of him exercising half naked, exposing his toned upper half body in all its glory.
It's been two years after the breakup and he didn't post anything on his social media until today, it's like he knows you're bored and horny.
It's unclear whether it's him or it's your uterus talking, but he looks hotter, sexier, and bigger than the last time you saw him. Although you must admit that he's always been attractive to you, except that his attractiveness is on a whole 'nother level now and it makes you wonder why you let this man go in the first place.
In your defense, Chan is not a terrible ex, he decided to break up with you because he was leaving to study abroad and thought the long-distance relationship would be hard and mentally draining for both of you.
You acted like it didn't hurt you but when you came home that night, you cried so hard that your pillow got drenched in tears. You didn't want to break up with him because he's a great guy who happens to be great in bed too, not only because he has the most delicious cock you've ever had but he also knows how to put it to a good use. Simply put, you were so devastated thinking that you'd never find a man like him again.
And you know what? You were right. You tried dating a few times but nothing comes close to what you had with Chan. Also, can't two people reconnect?
Before you get to change your mind again, you decide to hit the like button and send a short message in his DM.
Hey, there. You type into the message box, adding a smiling emoji at the end to make it sound casual but friendly at the same time.
There's no reply or a sign that he's read your message, you figure he must be busy on a Saturday morning, he could be having another session at the gym or having breakfast, or... yeah, it could be him ignoring your messages.
Slightly hangover from hanging out with your friends last night, you slump down your bed and close your eyes to get another few minutes of sleep.
You wake up an hour later with more than a dozen notifications on your phone, they're mostly your friends sending photos they took of you last night. You groan when you see a couple of work emails and do not think twice to skip them. There are some texts from friends and then, there it is, a reply from Chan.
Well, hello, there!
It's been ages.
How are you?
You check the time and his replies came about fifteen minutes ago, there's a possibility that he's still on his phone and he'll respond faster this time.
Never been better.
How about you?
Looking fine as ever, I see.
You add the eyes emoji before hitting the send button and drop your phone onto the bed, it's a bit risky but a compliment never hurt. Besides, who doesn't like getting a compliment?
The thought that Chan is probably waiting for your reply in those fifteen minutes amuses you but pfft... that's just your wishful thinking.
As you wait for his response, you're checking the photos your friends sent you. You check them one by one, deleting the ones that you don't like and saving the good ones where you look flattering.
An idea pops into your head as you go through your gallery: a plan. First, you choose a photo of you that shows your whole look last night, dressed in a blue mini dress and strappy heels with your hair up, tied in a messy bun, in other words, you looked hot and you felt like it when your friend took the picture.
You upload it as your Instagram story and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You're sure as hell he'll see your new post, then he'll get curious and open it, and Wowza!
Chan thinks he can be the only one posting a thirst trap on a Saturday morning, huh?
It only takes a minute for the thirst trap to do its job, you smirk at the notifications and see Chan's username on the top.
Me? He adds three flustered emojis to it.
Nah. I'm not.
But you...
You look beautiful as always.
Is it even allowed to look that beautiful?
A year of being single makes you weak at the slightest chance of romance, you catch yourself smiling to yourself in the mirror. You slap yourself to get ahold of yourself, reminding yourself that he could say that just to—
A notification pops up and it shows that Chan liked and reacted to your Instagram story with the hearts eyes emoji. Fuck! You just caught yourself smiling again. but what can you do? You're just a girl who is lonely and in need of some loving touch.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and think about what to reply to him.
And you...
Is it even allowed to have that much of muscles?
Someone, please close the gym!
You look good nonetheless, Chris.
But seriously, close the gym! You add a laughing emoji to keep it playful.
You patiently wait for his reply but your patience only lasts for twenty minutes until he makes you wait longer for his reply and you slump on the bed again.
It's time for plan number two!
The thirst trap worked to pique his interest and you have to come up with something that shows you're a hot commodity, you don't waste your time chasing boys, they chase you. That way, Chan will respond to your message faster.
So here comes plan number two, you take another trip to your gallery, scrolling through photos from last night, and find the perfect photo. It's a picture of you and one of your male friends, you're standing side by side, holding your drinks together and smiling to the camera. There's enough friendliness in there to show that you're close with this guy but also, not that close. You don't know how to explain it, but you know it'll work.
You wait a few more minutes to add it to your Instagram story, not forgetting to tag your friend which is the best part of it. If anyone checks his account, they'll see a model with blue eyes, just the perfect guy to make certain someone is jealous.
You're devilishly laughing as you hit the post button and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You check to see the final result and smile in satisfaction.
Okay, maybe you were too haste and didn't do your calculation right because morning has turned into afternoon and Chan hasn't replied to you. Not only did he make you wait, but you also wasted three hours of your day staring at the ceiling with the phone resting on your chest.
At this point, you should've given up and maybe it's true, he only replied just to be friendly, nothing more. You fling your phone across the bed out of spite and get up, planning to wash him away from your head with a hot shower.
Against the loud sound of the hairdryer, you hear your phone chimes and you turn it off to check whether you're imagining it chimes or not.
You hate how quickly you forget how upset you were a while ago after seeing your phone light up with new notifications.
I'm sorry for replying late.
I was busy moving some stuff.
Do you have time?
And you hate it more that he can easily get your hopes up again. You figure it's time he tastes his own medicine, you put your phone away and leave him on read. You'll reply later when you feel like it, or never. Who knows?
You continue drying your hair but the constant hum of the hairdryer makes you unable to hear your thoughts, especially one that stops you from going to your phone again as it chimes with a new notification. It only takes twenty minutes for you to cave into the temptation.
I don't know about you but all these chats, they're not enough.
Can we video call instead?
It takes you not even a minute to say yes to him. You make a run to your closet and change your clothes, picking up a white top with a low neckline, ditching the bra, and pairing it with denim shorts.
Chan doesn't give you a minute to choose the setting of the video call, your phone rings as you try to make the bed as best as you can and sit with your back against the headboard of the bed.
The phone keeps ringing but you need to check your hair in the mirror again to finally accept the video call. A second later, Chan's face appears on your phone screen, and from his damp hair, it seems like he's just taken a shower too.
"Hey," he greets you as he brushes his curls with his hand.
"You look a little wet, Chris," you tease with a sly smile.
Chan moves, changing his sitting position and revealing himself in a bathrobe with his chest all exposed. Intentional or not, you must admit that's quite a show!
"I was feeling hot so I took a quick shower," he answers with a grin.
"Feeling hot, huh?" You tease again.
"I am now," he playfully responds, flashing you a sly smile and lip bite.
The two of you just stare at each other through the screen and it's getting too much for you with how intense his eyes are.
"So, where are you now?"
"I'm actually in the city," he shortly replies.
"Oh? You're back!" You gasp but hold yourself back from continuing the sentence and ask if he's back for good. The most important thing is he's confirmed his location, all you need to find out next is if he's up to do no good with you.
"Kind of," he vaguely answers.
"Kind of..." you teasingly repeat his words and then giggle.
Chan grins and rests his back against a pillow, it's unclear if he's sitting on the bed or the sofa, "Oh, how I missed that," he says.
You take a pillow and put it on your lap as something to hold on to, "Missed what?"
"Your sweet smiles and cute giggles," he shortly answers like he's been waiting for you to ask him that.
"Oh, stop it, Chris!" You respond, getting a little flustered that you melt onto your pillow. You may as well lie down on your stomach and put the pillow under your chest, "You're getting good at lying, huh?"
"Yeah. Nah. Just a little bit," he jokingly says, then bursts into laughter that his dimples sunken deep into his cheeks.
And oh, you missed his dimpled smiles and his sonorous laughter too, but you're not going to tell him that, maybe not now, or ever.
To avoid it escalating really quickly, you shift the conversation elsewhere. You prop a hand under your chin and tilt your head to the side while the other hand steadily holds your phone far enough from your face.
"So, what are you doing now?"
"Staring at your face," he answers, a half smirk decorating his rectangular face.
"Just my face?" You jokingly ask with a flirty lip bite.
"Everything else too," he adds, catching his eyes flicking down for a second then smirks.
You act oblivious to the fact that with the way you lie on your stomach, you're offering him a view of your cleavage and he would be stupid if he missed the sign.
"What I meant is what are you doing in the city? Is it for work or...?"
"I need to sort a few things," he vaguely explains.
It's obvious that he's keeping the details from you and you have to respect that, he's not your boyfriend and even if he is, he's not obligated to tell you everything. Including the possibility that he came here to see his new girlfriend, perhaps?
"Oh? So, all business, no pleasure?" You joke with a light chuckle, hiding your true intention to know whether he's seeing anyone or not.
"I'm free tonight and I was hoping that we could meet," He says, shattering the negative thoughts that rush through your head.
Now, that gets you thinking if he's coming here to see you and you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach, or it could be your uterus ovulating as you speak, either way, you like it.
"Tonight?" You ask, acting like you already have a plan for tonight.
"Yes. Or do you already have plans for tonight?"
The act always works, gosh, you should consider to start a career as an actor, "Not really, but uh... where do you want us to meet?"
"There's a nice bar in the hotel I'm staying in. We can have a drink or two," he replies, then licks his lips and makes them appear wet and fuller, tantalizing you to kiss them.
Despite you feeling like screaming and jumping on the bed, you remain coy about it, reminding yourself to not sound eager but show enough enthusiasm.
You pretend to consider it for a moment, tilting your head to the other way and saying, "Hotel bar has better drinks so... yeah, I'd love a drink or two."
A triumphant smile rises on his face and it's cute that he lets it show, making you feel a lot of things in a few seconds.
"I'll see you there, I mean, here at 8?"
You tug your middle finger between your teeth and flash him a seductive smile, "Okay."
"I'll DM you the address."
"Okay," you mutter again while staring at him through the screen on your phone.
"See you tonight then," he says, touching his lips and rubbing the lower lip with his long, dainty finger.
"Can't wait to meet you," he adds.
Instead of answering him, you let out a giggle and sit up on the bed. You flip your hair to the back and just stare at him for a minute without saying anything.
"See you tonight, Chris," you finally reply, making sure to call his name with a low, sultry voice and a sly smile.
Without hesitation, you hang up first and let out a long sigh after. It's just a video call but Gosh! It feels like a foreplay already.
You give yourself a moment to compose yourself before execute plan number three: Dressed to fucking impress. To be honest, you don't even bother with the 'impress' part, you just want to fuck.
See? Talking to him is not a bad idea after all.
-
The sound of your high heels constantly tapping the marble floor as you walk echoes in the hotel lobby, you're unsure of how to inform him that you've arrived just a few minutes late from the appointed time.
You take your phone out of your purse and are about to compose a message when you catch him holding his hand up at you from the second floor.
You wave your hand back at him and make your way to the stairs, climbing each step with caution because it would embarrassing if you tripped. But looking at Chan waiting for you at the top of the stairs makes it feel like you're living a scene out of a movie.
Even with his signature all-black look, it doesn't make him less princely. He looks dreamy with crinkles in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.
He offers his hand when you're only a couple of steps away from him. You take it and let him guide you on the last steps of the stairs. His grip is firm as you remember and he still has his favorite chain bracelet around his wrist.
"You look gorgeous," he doesn't say it in a dramatic, hyperbolic way but he softly whispers it to you before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, so close to the corner of your mouth.
The night has just begun but he's already succeeded in making you quietly hold your breath. You put on a smile for him and coyly say, "You look stunning in black as... always."
He laughs and it feels like to see and hear it in person, like you can feel the warmth that his laughs emit.
"Want to have dinner first?" He asks.
"I've had dinner," you answer.
The truth is, you barely had dinner because you were too nervous to eat anything but you did eat a nutrition bar in the taxi.
"This way to the bar then?" He offers his arm at you like a true gentleman.
"Lead the way, sir!" You say as you link your arm around him.
It's only a short walk from the hotel lobby to the bar Chan mentioned, the interior is rather luxurious, leather seats with a live jazz performance. He mutters something to the hostess, probably where he prefers to sit and she nods in response.
"This way, please!" She says with a polite smile, walking like a feline creature in her tight skirt and silk blouse.
You glance to the side to see if Chan is looking at the pretty hostess in front of him, but you find him staring at you instead.
"Is there something on my face?" You ask in slight panic, afraid that you have something in your teeth but he feels bad to tell you.
"No," he simply answers.
"This way, sir, ma'am," the hostess says, gesturing to the booth she chooses for the two of you, a little hidden in the corner of the bar to provide some privacy.
Chan gently places his hand on the small of your back and lets you take a seat first. You have a seat in the middle of the curved sofa and he sits right next to you.
"Can we order drinks right away?" Chan asks as he puts his phone on the table.
"Sure," the hostess answers, slightly bending down to hear him talk clearly, "What would you like to have, sir?"
"I'll have the... Boulevardier," he eloquently says with a slight French accent.
"Excellent choice, sir!" She comments, she then turns her head at you to take your order, "How about you, ma'am?"
Things have been feeling a little surreal for these past few hours your brain is struggling to keep up, you want to be cool and confidently answer the fanciable hostess but it takes you a longer time to process a simple question like that.
"I'd love a daiquiri, please!" You answer, ignoring the fact that it takes you a minute to come up with it.
"Can I recommend you with the Hemingway special? It's a daiquiri with a splash of sweet grapefruit juice and Maraschino liqueur," she eloquently explains, proving that she's not only hired because of her look.
"That sounds amazing. I'd love that," you say with an impressed smile.
After confirming your orders, the hostess left the booth and it's just the two of you now in this nice yet slightly erotic setting of the bar.
"That's a nice dress," he suddenly compliments as he's looking at your face, not at your dress.
The dress goes to your midthigh, it's white and tight enough to showcase your curve. It's long-sleeved but the sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of skin. You've been saving it for a special occasion and considering that you haven't met him for two years, you reckon it's time to wear it.
"Just something I had, you know, lying around," you playfully answer.
The drinks come not long after and Chan waits until the server leaves to initiate a toast with you. Your drink is in a glass with a thin stem so you carefully lift it with your fingers.
"Cheers!" You mutter in unison and clink your glasses together.
The first round of drinks went with a conversation that consisted of basic questions. He asks you about work, family, life in general, and everything in between. You must admit that your life is kind of boring but it's nice to know that he wanted to catch up on your life updates.
It's a little disappointing though that he doesn't ask anything about your love life or whether you're seeing anyone or not.
When you deem that you're on the verge of oversharing, you stop talking and shift the focus to him.
"What about you? What are you working on at the moment?" You curiously ask, putting down your drink on the table and leaving one last sip on the fragile-looking glass.
"I'm working on a lot of things right now. From a lot of places too," he answers.
"So, you've been traveling a lot," you remark.
"Yes."
That says something about his relationship status and unless he has learned how to be in a long-distance relationship, then it means he's not seeing anyone right now. Even if he is, there's a big chance that it's noncommittal.
This calls for a celebration so you pick up your drink and drain every last drop of it, delightfully gasping once you swallow it.
"Round 2?" Chan offers.
"Yes."
Now that you've made up your mind about it and from the subtle signals he's sending you so far, it's safe to say that he's up to do no good with you. You smooth down the hem of your dress and flip your hair to the back, preparing yourself to execute plan number four: Make your intention known.
As much as you feel tempted to say 'Chris, let's fuck!' right to his face, you decide not to be haste and go with a more convenient, acceptable way. You plan to be forthright about your intention what you want and if he wanted the same too so the two of you can skip the formalities and go straight to the fucking.
"Chris, I have something to tell you," you say to him.
He positions his body slightly turns to the side to face you and softly smiles, "You can tell me."
You've mustered up the courage and have the words prepared in your head only for the moment to be ruined by your phone ringing in your purse.
"Fuck..." you quietly mutter to yourself, you could sense your courage shrinking inside you.
The phone has stopped ringing but you grab your purse on the space next to you and pull it out to check the caller. A new text message appears on your screen.
Call me. It's urgent. Your friend wrote in her text along with multiple red exclamation marks.
It seems rather urgent, you put on an apologetic smile at Chan and say, "I'm sorry but do you mind if I make a quick call?"
"Not at all," Chan says with an easy smile.
You take your phone with you as you get up from the sofa, leaving the booth at the same time the waiter comes with your second round of drinks.
Finding the way to the restroom, you hit the call button as you enter and stand in front of the sinks, waiting for your friend to pick up while checking for your hair and make-up in the mirror.
"What's the urgency?" You say the second you hear the call being picked up.
"I need to borrow your laptop. Mine is suddenly frozen and I can't reboot it," your friend answers in a rather distressed tone.
Knowing that it's not the kind of urgent you imagined in your head, you let out a sigh of relief and then say, "Yes, yes you can use my laptop."
"I'm already in the elevator to your floor."
"You have the code to my apartment and I'm sure you know where I put my laptop," you calmly tell her, putting the strands of hair to the side and carefully dabbing the skin under your eyes.
"Wait. You're not home?"
"I'm not and I'm not taking any more questions," you immediately stop her before she gets too nosy.
"Don't call me for the rest of the night. Bye!" You don't wait for a response and quickly hang up.
On the way back to your booth, you see Chan enjoying the jazz performance on the stage, tapping his foot against the floor. You didn't notice the way he sat until now, his legs spread open, he's slightly slumped and his long arm rests along the edge of the sofa, plus he left the top three buttons on his shirt open.
Chan looks so hot simply by sitting like that and you're sure you've seen much hotter men but you really can't remember when.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and slide into the booth again, then slowly sit on the sofa, leaving a gap between you and him.
"Here's your drink," he says, handing the glass to you with such caution.
"Thank you!" You mutter your gratitude.
You're glad that you're taking the recommendation because the Hemingway Daiquiri tastes so refreshing, it's sweet and sour, certainly an upscale from the classic daiquiri.
"I hope the call wasn't something bad," he says to you.
You lick your lips after taking a sip, "Oh, no. It was my friend. She needs to borrow something," you spare him from the details.
It takes a minute to remember where you left the conversation and when you finally recall, you need to take more time to prepare yourself again. You immediately take another sip to quicken the process of building up your courage.
"Can I tell you a secret?" He suddenly comes up with an unexpected request.
Your throat burns from accidentally swallowing your alcohol too fast and you can feel your eyes get teary as well.
"Sure," you manage to answer.
Somehow the gap you purposely put between you and him disappears, he sits so close to you that his knee bumps into yours.
"I've been stalking your Instagram page," he shares with a shy smile.
You snort because he makes it seem like it's an embarrassing thing to say, but you doubt if that's true, he could be saying that to make you feel flattered.
"As far as I can recall, you've been abandoning your account until today," you say, hardly believing his so-called secret.
"That's because I'm using a fake Instagram account," he simply answers.
You snort again and roll your eyes at him, "Yeah, sure."
Chan smirks and picks up his phone, he opens Instagram to show the fake Instagram account he made and it only has one following, you.
"Do you believe me now?"
It's hard to stay calm when you find out that the guy who broke your heart two years ago has secretly been keeping up with you through your social media. You're happy but a part of you is still in denial.
"I mean... why not use your own Instagram?" you ask out of pure curiosity because it's not like you'd mistake this as a sign that he wants to get back with you. You're not that naive nor delusional.
"Then you would know that I regret breaking up with you," he casually answers like he didn't just reveal something profound.
You look at him to check if he's just messing with you and you would know if he's lying cause he's bad at it, but nope, he's telling the truth.
"And you would know that I've been struggling to get over you," he continues with glints filling his doe eyes.
There's an alarm going off in your chest, it's coming from the heart and it's telling you to be cautious, potential heartbreak lies ahead. You get reminded that you came here not to confront your feelings, you came here to get fucked, hopefully hard.
"And I guess you posted your boxing video for a purpose?" You ask with your eyebrow raised at him.
"Well..." he shrugs and slyly grins, "it worked, didn't it?"
As expected, this man has so many tricks up his sleeves. Better be careful as he puts all of his attention on you, his arm slowly makes its way around your shoulder and his hand is playing with your hair.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"No comment," You smirk and take a small sip of your drink.
Chan lets out a laugh, the sonorous one and the kind that makes his eyes form two crescents. He takes a sip of his Boulevardier which is an upscale version of negroni.
"I've been wondering why you stayed single for so long," he says with an underlying tone, implying that he's actually asking you the reason why. Also confirmed his secret stalking behavior.
"It's not that long," you reply, crossing your legs together as you flash him a sly smile.
"A year, isn't it?" He asks.
You groan and roll your eyes at him, "You really are a stalker."
"You can tell me," he playfully elbows your side.
"No. It's a secret," you refuse to share.
"I shared my secret with you and it's only fair if you share yours with me."
"First of all, I didn't ask for your secret," you defend yourself while holding your drink close to your mouth.
He leans to your side, offering his ear at you as he says, "You can whisper it to me."
He means to know the answer anyway so you lean into his ear and cover the side of your mouth, then whisper, "All the guys I've met, they don't have a big cock like yours."
That's a way to get his attention and escalate the tension between the two of you. You pull away with a devilish smirk dancing on your face.
You glance down at his crotch and ask, "Is it still as big as I remember?"
"If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," he plays coy about it and you find it extremely attractive.
Noticing that you've drained your drink, Chan waves his hand to get the two of you another round of drinks. Obviously, you don't want it to end when things have just started to warm up.
He looks at you and then glances down, showing his hand snaking its way to your thigh.
"Have I told you that it's a nice dress?"
"I don't mind hearing it one more time," you respond with a cheeky smile.
He shoots you a big grin while he's playing with the hem of your dress, feeling the fabric between his fingers.
"It's a nice dress," he compliments, then leans in close so that you can feel his warm breath brush your cheek as he adds, "And I want to take it off of you tonight."
You place your hand on his hand that rests on your thigh and play with his bracelet, "if you're lucky, you'll get to do it," you poke fun at him.
You can audibly hear his laugh in your ear as he leans in closer his nose pokes your cheek, "We're even now."
The third drinks bring the tension higher as the two of you relax from every sip and the gap between your bodies gradually disappears.
Chan has his eyes on you all the time, it's overwhelming at times but you like the way he looks at you like an animal who has his eyes on its prey and you like seeing the confliction in his eyes on whether he should eat you whole or play with his food first.
There's so much chemistry and tension here, plus the alcohol, you're only waiting for the light to turn bright green, really.
He gently brushes your hair to the side and keeps it there so he can plant a kiss on the skin behind your ear, knowing that it's your sensitive part of body.
"You change your perfume?"
"Yes," you manage to remain calm despite the proximity and the way he constantly rubs your thigh with his knuckle.
He drags his lips to your ear and asks, "What is it called?"
You lick your lips and make him wait for your answer, "I believe it's called Good Girl Gone Bad."
He tilts his head to the side and looks at you right in the eyes, wide and dark with lust, "How bad?"
You grab the collar of his shirt and tug at it, "If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," you get back at him again.
As he bursts out laughing with his eyes closed, you follow your intrusive thought to cup his jaw with your hand and laugh along.
"That's two to one," you remind him.
He stops laughing only to fondly smile at you, "Remind me how I broke up with you."
"For a start, you acted like an absolute jerk that day," you half-jokingly say.
The truth is it wasn't the breakup that hurt you the most, it's the post-break-up and his total absence from your life, he didn't call or text, or even send a pity email after that day. It felt as if he didn't want you in his life anymore.
Fuck. How did you get here again? Forced to face your feelings. Time to shift the talk.
"It's getting late, don't you think?"
Chan immediately reaches for his phone on the table to check the time, "It's 10.51."
"Oh," you plainly respond and finish you drink.
"Can I have your new numbers?" He suddenly asks.
You put down your glass on the table and answer, "I still have the same phone numbers."
"Yeah but I lost my phone at the airport and had to get a new one, lost all of my contacts," he explains like he knew you thought about how he didn't call you earlier.
Chan hands you his phone so you can enter your phone numbers and hand it back to him once you've finished. He hits the call button instead of saving it first and your phone rings a second later.
"Come on. Pick it up!" He tells you.
You obey him, accepting his phone call even though he's sitting next to you, "Hello?"
"Hi, it's future Chris calling," he says with a mix of foolish and sexy grin, you don't know how but he does it so well.
Curious to see where this talk is going, you decide to play along with him, "If you are really from the future, can you tell me the lottery numbers for this week?"
"I... can't tell you that."
"I'm hanging up," you joke.
"But I can tell you something else."
"Not interested," you put away your phone from your ear.
He glares at you, forcing you to continue playing along with him, "Hear me first!"
"Okay, I'm listening," you say with a dramatic eye roll.
"Future Chris says you need to go to hotel room number 103 tonight."
"Uhm... why?"
"You have to go there if you want to get lucky," he says with his tongue slightly poking out on one corner of his mouth.
"Still not interested," you poke fun, pretending to hang up the phone again.
"You'll regret it," he teases.
"I doubt that," you say with your nose scrunched at him.
Chan gets a little annoyed now, you can tell by the way he has his tongue poking his cheek and the fed-up grin on his face.
"Don't you want to get lucky tonight and find out about..." he pauses as he reaches for the pendant of your necklace and turns it over in his fingers, "the thing you're curious of."
This is it then, your intention matched his intention and the light has turned bright green. You take his hand and put it down onto your lap, then you slide your hand into his palm, "Okay."
"Okay," He says, holding your hand in his then brings it close to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.
-
As you're waiting for the elevator to arrive, Chan steadily places his hand on the arch of your back and lingers there until the elevator chimes open.
He lets you get in first and you choose to stand on the side, close to the panel full of numbers of the hotel floors and he reaches for it to push the number to his floor.
Should you consider yourself lucky that the elevator is empty? Should you be nervous because you're starting to feel like a prey being locked with its predator inside a small, enclosed space?
No words are being exchanged as the two of you locked in a gaze, but he speaks so much through his eyes, they're fiery, filled with so much want, so much need, and ultimately, desire.
After that much teasing, flirting, alcohol, chemistry, and tension, you've been wondering how the two of you managed to not kiss each other already.
It seems like he's about to make it happen as he comes closer to you, putting his hands on the handlebar and caging you in between. Slowly, he brings his hand close to your face and carefully puts away the strands of hair covering your face to the side, then tucks it behind your ear.
In this proximity, you can see how plush his lips are, how soft and full they are, and it's getting too hard to try to ignore. You look at him, telling him how much you want to kiss him through your eyes and deliberately blink to give him the unspoken permission to kiss you.
The heating moment gets interrupted by the sound of the elevator chimes open and a group of people gets in from the fourth floor.
"Excuse me," a man says as he reaches for the panel to press the number to his floor.
With his hand on your back again, Chan protectively guides you to take a step forward and stands behind you, he puts his arm around your waist with his hand resting on your abdomen.
There's a low chatter going on from the other corner of the elevator but the absence of silence doesn't make it less tense as Chan buries his nose in your hair, you can feel every breath he inhales on the nape of your neck. It feels hot and cold at the same time, making you tingling inside.
He then presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're still using the same shampoo, mmh?" His lips graze your ear as he speaks.
Chan puts his other arm on you and quietly, pulls you closer until your back meets his chest, that way you can feel him behind you and his body heat that slowly melts you from the inside.
Quietly, he slides his hand down to the curve of your ass cheek and then gently squeezes the flesh.
"My God, this body..." he whispers with his breath tickles your body, "Makes me want to ruin you so much."
Is it wrong that you don't even want to hide it anymore? You want everyone in the elevator to hear what he just said to you and for a split second, you want Chan to fuck you right there and let everyone watches.
However, Chan suddenly lets go of you and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. Then you notice that the little screen above the panel shows that the elevator is about to stop on the 10th floor.
When it chimes open, you make your way out with Chan trails behind you. None of you look back but keep walking ahead with his hand resting on the arch of your back again, leading you to where his room is. His hand goes lower and lower the further you walk through the hotel corridor.
"This way," he says, guiding your body to take the left corridor.
Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and roughly pulls you with him until he hits his back against the wall, then crashes his mouth on you.
This is not your shared first kiss but this is somehow better than that. The feeling of your lips finally reunited in a rapturous kiss especially when you've been craving it oh, there's nothing like it!
Chan kisses you so hard, so deep, so passionately that you have a hard time returning it to him and breathing becomes a second priority to you.
"I've been wanting to do that all night," he mutters when he lets go of the kiss.
Still gasping for air, you nod and say, "Me too."
To your surprise, he turns you over and has you pinned against the wall this time, he pushes his body against yours as he seeks to be as close to you as possible until there's no inch of gap left between your bodies.
When he deems that you need to breathe, he lets go of your lips only to kiss you on your neck and you tip your head to the side to give him the free access. You let out a low moan as his teeth faintly scrape the skin.
His hands run amok, feeling you all over and touching you through your clothes, eventually his hand cups your breast in his. He kisses your lips again only to distract you from his hand trying to pull down the front of your dress and after a few tries, he manages to send your breast spilling which he wastes no time to take it in his mouth.
"Oh..." The moan just slipped out of your mouth and you hurriedly press your lips together to shut yourself up, aware that you're in a hotel corridor and the hotel guests might hear it, oh and also, someone may walk in on you making out in the hotel corridor.
He leaves your breast wet with his saliva when he lets go and goes straight to kiss you again, putting his weight against you and hoisting your leg around him.
It's getting hard to stay quiet as he starts to dry hump you, you can feel the friction of his clothed erection on you, big and bulging, highly arousing.
Hearing footsteps coming, he hurriedly fixes your dress and takes your hand, this time, leading you right to his hotel room. He swiftly unlocks the door with his keycard and pushes the door inward.
"Come in," he softly mutters, keeping the door open to let you in.
Once you're both inside, the obscenity continues. Nothing is stopping you from coming at each other and ripping each other's clothes. Your dress is the first to go then his shirts, they're lying on the carpeted floor now.
As you lips continuously latch with his, Chan swiftly unbuckles his belt and zips open his fly, he pulls his erection out of its confine.
Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hand and puts it around his hardening member. You gasp at how hot it feels in your hand, how hard it is that you can feel the veins coiling around his length.
He pulls away and looks down to see your hand holding his cock, "Is it as big as you remember?"
You suck air through your teeth and then say, "I'm not sure."
You start to slowly pump his length in your hand and look up at him, "but there's a way I can know for sure."
His eyebrow raised in question, "You do?"
"Uh-huh," you answer, leaning in to kiss him.
From his lips, you begin a trail of kisses to his neck and his chest next, then down to his sculpted abs until your knees hit the carpeted floor.
Something about kneeling in front of him and he's looking down on you with a mix of excitement and anticipation in his eyes arousing you in a whole new way.
In return, you look back at him, innocently blinking your eyes at him all the while your hand keeps stroking his cock in front of you.
"Can I?" You ask him with your thumb softly rubbing the tip of his cock.
He puts his hands in your hair, brushing your hair and gathering them in the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, "Yes."
Without looking away from him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, then slowly, you take him in your mouth. You take him little by little and give yourself time to adjust yourself to his size which you think is somewhat bigger than you remember.
Wanting to impress him, you push yourself to take more of him but you're too haste and his cock hits the back of your throat so fast, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately pull away before you embarrass yourself more and look away as you let out a cough.
"Still too big for me," You say with a shy chuckle.
Chan places his hand on your cheek and tenderly caresses it, "Too big for you, mmh?"
You nod with your puppy eyes at him.
"But you're taking it so well," he coos, now wiping your chin with his thumb.
You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly pump it, "Yeah?"
"Yes," he mutters with a soft smile.
The truth is you're not a big fan of giving blow jobs and you're not very confident in your skill, but he remains sweet and patient with you and you believe it's because he knows.
Chan makes you feel safe and comfortable enough to make you want to do it again.
"Let me just..." you don't finish your sentence but do it all over again.
You remind yourself to take it slow, regulate your breathing, and keep calm, it's even better if you can try to enjoy doing it.
To compensate for the rest that you can't take in your mouth, you use your hand and alternate between sucking and licking.
"See? You're taking me so well," he softly mutters, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear.
It doesn't take long for you to find your rhythm and slowly enjoying yourself giving him head, you're even humming in pleasure with your mouth full of him.
Seeing his reactions and hearing the lewd noises coming out of your mouth, encourages you to keep going despite your jaws getting tired and your knees are hurting from kneeling too long.
In between his low moans, he manages to mutter sweet nothings to you.
"Oh, that pretty mouth!"
"You're just too good."
"Oh... Too good at this!"
After a few minutes though, you sense that you needed a break so you slowly pull out and replace your mouth with your hand.
"You like that?"
"Very much," he answers without a beat.
He offers his hand to help you get up from the floor and pulls you close, hoisting your body against him knowing that you're probably tired from kneeling too long.
"You're getting too good, it's dangerous," he whispers to you with both hands cupping your ass cheeks.
You giggle and let him have your lips in him again, you're opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper while he hoists you higher until your feet are lifted off the floor.
Chan carries you to the bed and gently lays you down on the bed, he removes his jeans first before joining you, lying next to you on the bed.
He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a kiss on your lips, "So, is it as big as you remember?"
You tangle your hand in his soft curls, "Jury's still out," you answer with a sly smile.
Chan glares at you as a grin slowly blossoms on his face, he offers his arm as your pillow and then pulls you closer to him, that way, he can comfortably plant his lips on yours again.
As he keeps you busy with his kisses, his hand is making its way down south and not stopping until it lands on your clothed cunt. He smirks against your lips the second he slips his fingers under, meeting your wetness.
"That wet for me, mmh?" He murmurs.
You coyly shrug and shoot him a smirk just to provoke him.
"Well, I'm honored," he says with his fingers tracing your folds and running it up and down your slit.
When he starts playing with your clit, you know you no long can keep your cool anymore. The cold that comes from the metal of his chain bracelet adds a different sensation to the hot and wetness of your cunt.
"Goodness..." you breathlessly gasp as he inserts his finger into you.
"I know you can take one more," he mutters with his mouth pressed to your ear, then proceeds to add another digit.
His two long fingers are inside you now, pumping them in and out of you, and curls them to find that spot that makes you—
"Chris! Oh, fuck!" You curse and grip his shoulder hard enough your nails dug into the skin.
He's enjoying it from the way his head hovers above you and peacefully observing your face, wanting to see all of your reactions to his delightful assault.
He has his mouth sucking on your breast now and the other is being fondled by his other hand, the other hand is busy making a mess out of you.
You're squirming on the bed with your waist upheld in the air and shamelessly arching your back at him, seeking more of him inside you.
Chan knows when to stop, he teases you enough to prepare you for what comes next. He slows down his hand motions and slowly pulls them out. He doesn't let go yet but keeps his hand inside your underwear, playing with your clit.
A moment later, he draws his hand out of your underwear and rubs his fingers coated with your arousal on his lips, "Taste yourself on me," he says.
Seeing his lips wet with your essence is rather arousing and you don't hesitate at all to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. The kiss feels exceptionally kinky and you thought you couldn't be more aroused than this.
Without letting go of the kiss, he hovers above you and props his elbows against the mattress, "Are you still on the pills?"
You swallow air before answering, "Yeah."
He places a sweet peck on your lips then looks at you, "Is it okay if we do it without protection?"
Maybe deep down you know you can trust him and it wouldn't be the first time you're doing it with him without a layer of protection so you find it easy to agree to it and nod.
"Okay," you say, also providing him a verbal consent.
He smiles at you and lowers his mouth on you again, he continues the kisses down your front. His hands tugging at the elastic band of your underwear and pulling it down as he continues the kisses down to your legs.
The bed quakes as Chan gets off the bed and he's just standing there, looking at you and your naked body for his eyes to lust on. You catch him inhaling and exhaling air like he's overwhelmed by what he's seeing.
"You're so beautiful," he mutters with a delightful sigh.
It would be the only normal response to get flustered under his lustful eyes, you look away from him and say, "Just get in here, Chris!"
He surprises you by jumping onto the bed, making the bed quakes once more and he immediately puts his lips on yours again.
"Turn over for me," he softly whispers to you ear.
Without saying a word, you obey him, turning over on the bed and getting on your fours, kneeling with your hands propped against the mattress in front of you.
Chan positions himself behind you and then with so much care, he puts all of your hair away onto one shoulder so he can place kisses on your back. His hands freely roam around your body.
In your opinion, Chan has the most attractive pair of hands, it's warm and firm with veins snaking on the back of his hand, and of course, long fingers that know how to find your most sensitive spot. Now, they're on you, going all over you and feeling you all over.
"I almost forgot how soft you are," he murmurs.
He then brings his hands to your chest to play with your mounds, he hums in pleasure as he sees your breasts mold perfectly in his hands.
"Like they were made just for me," he sighs.
It's like his attractiveness and his big cock aren't enough, Chan has to have a smart mouth too, a mouth that knows what to say and how to say it.
Then again, you're just a girl and you're prone to sugary sweet words like that. You look over your shoulder and smile at him, not expecting that he's going to capture your lips in a kiss.
He slides one hand down to your throbbing cunt again, making sure it's wet enough for him to penetrate. He gently pushes you to the front so he can aim his cock at your entrance and then slowly, he guides you to take him in.
"Oh... ah..." you moan, crumpling the sheet underneath you.
And you almost forget how big he is until he's inside you and you get so high that you blank out, you're there on all fours and merely just a vessel.
Not giving you another minute to adjust, Chan moves back and pulls his cock out only to push it deeper inside you. He then wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly while you're flailing against him like a rag doll.
"You feel so good," he whispers, his breath is hot and heavy in your ear, "So fucking tight around me."
He brings his hand down to rub your clit, adding gentle pressure as he's circling on it.
"I'm going to move, okay?" He says to you with a slobbering kiss on your shoulder.
Unable to form a coherent answer, you repeatedly nod in answer.
The sploshing sound of his fingers incessantly rubbing your clit intensify along with the pace of his thrusting. Chan either has his lips on your lips or plants them on your shoulder, either way, he does it to muffle his groans.
This is what happens when his hand and his cock joint forces, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm when all you've been doing is filling the room with your high-pitched moans.
"Oh, I'm cumming," you whine, holding onto the sheet as waves of pleasure surging all over you.
Chan slows down but does not stop thrusting into you, he kisses your neck and shoulder as you relish your orgasm. He keeps you close with his slung across your chest.
"Chris?" You breathlessly call his name.
"Yes, baby?" He answers your call and you guess the pet name unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.
Not going to lie, it gets you fluttering to hear him call you baby. You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close to kiss him.
After a while, you start to doubt that the fluttering feeling came from Chan calling you with a pet name. You think it's because you're getting your second orgasm.
"What should I do, Chris?" You whine against his mouth
He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a concerned look, "Huh?" Chan confusingly asks.
"I'm about to cum again," you shamelessly admit.
Chan lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss on your lips, "Then let's cum together, yeah?" he simply resolves.
He draws you close to him until your back hits his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you to hold you steady as he adds more speed to his thrust.
"Chris, oh..." you moan while holding onto his forearm.
His hands slithering around, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other wrapped around your neck. His mouth nests in the crook of your neck, grunting in pleasure and at times, sucking on your skin to muffle his noises.
"Oh, you keep clenching, baby," he mutters, followed by a broken moan.
That is probably because his cock is deep inside you, it's engorging and pulsating, filling you whole and continuously rubbing against your velvety walls, making the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.
Getting weak on the knees, you collapse onto the bed and Chan hurriedly holds you by the waist as he maintains the pace.
"I'm close, I'm close," you tell him repeatedly with one side of your face pressed against the bed.
Chan groans as he pushes his cock as shallowly as possible inside you, "Almost there," he says through his gritted teeth.
The previous orgasm makes you more sensitive than before and you can't hold yourself back anymore so you slowly let go and let the pleasure take over you once more.
Meanwhile, Chan hovers behind you and takes your hands, he holds them by the wrists then pin them against the bed as he restlessly thrusts into you to chase his high.
"Want me to cum inside you?" He asks, still thoughtful as you remember
"Uh-huh, yeah," you manage to answer even with your brain close to short-circuit.
Getting the permission is all he needed to get to his release. Then moment he finally come undone, he lets out a hoarse yet the most beautiful moan you ever heard, then lets himself lay on top of you.
A moment passes in contented silence and Chan presses a long kiss on the nape of your neck, then softly asks, "Are you okay?"
Not getting an answer, he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face to check it himself, "Did I go too rough on you?" He asks again with a slight concern.
You allow yourself to take a few more seconds to gain your composure and instead of answering, you foolishly grin at him and say, "That was so fucking good."
In response, Chan brightly smiles then pecks your lips, "No, but seriously, are you okay?"
You nod at him, "I'm okay."
After hearing your confirmation, he lets out a sigh of relief and then kisses you again, longer than the previous one.
"Sweet break?"
You don't expect him to say that after a long time, you smile and nod, "Sweet break."
-
Sweet break is something you used to say to each other when you need to take a break from something by eating something sweet. Like now, for instance, you and him taking a break from sex to order something sweet from the room service.
"Bad news is the kitchen is closed" Chan announces the second you come out of the bathroom.
It would be bothersome to put on your dress so you put on Chan's shirt instead, buttoning it as you join him on the sofa, "And the good news?"
He opens the food cover to show you what he got from the room service, "They're still serving desserts," he says with a grin.
The two of you huddle together around the plates of desserts and eating them on the sofa, filling the room with the sounds of your chewing and the dessert spoon scraping the plate.
It's fascinating to watch Chan casually eat his chocolate cake like he didn't just fuck the brains out of you a while ago. You let out a low chuckle and get back to your crepes.
"What's so funny?" He asks, catching you quietly chuckling to yourself.
"Nothing," you answer with a shrug.
He glares at you and decides to invade your plate with his fork, stabbing at the sliced banana and then shoving it into his mouth.
"Hey, eat your own dessert," you scold him but let him collect more bananas from your plate.
"But you don't like bananas," he says in between his chews.
"I don't like bananas but that doesn't mean I can't eat them," you say, but proceed to put the bananas to the side of the plate.
"I'm eating it for you so you only eat what you like," he says with a proud grin.
It's endearing that he still remembers little things like this. The sweet break, your dislike toward a certain and even how many of his fingers you like to have inside you. You can't help but wonder if he remembers other things too. His feelings for you, perhaps?
"Want to order another one?"
The two of you shared and finished the last plate together, even though you feel like you can have another plate, you refuse the offer.
He puts the plates away to the side of the room and returns to the sofa, lifting your legs before he sits next to you and then puts your legs on his lap.
"What's that café with the salted caramel cookies?" He suddenly asks.
"The one with butternut latte?" You ask back to check.
He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and plays with your hair, "Is it still open?"
Damn. He even still remembers that one café you regularly visited when the two of you were still dating.
"Yes," you answer with a smile.
"Man. Those are the best cookies!" he sighs with his fingertips lightly rubbing your thigh.
"I mean, we can go there tomorrow if you want," you casually say or you hope it sounds casual, it's a friendly offer.
He stops playing with your hand and cups your jaw, "I would love to," he says.
From the way his smile slowly dims, you sense a 'but' coming. Oh no, you sense a regret coming. You shouldn't have offered it in the first place.
"But I have to leave tomorrow," he says.
"Oh?" You try to remain unbothered and keep your facial expression in check, "Tomorrow, huh?"
"Yeah. I have to take care of a few things back home," he explains.
By back home, he means Australia and he'll fly out tomorrow, and probably for good. You hate that you get sad like it would be the first he's done it to you.
He holds you by the chin and slowly brings your head close to place a chaste kiss on your lips, it's so tender that you feel a tug at your chest.
"Thank you for coming to see me," he sincerely says with his eyes wide and shining for you.
This is where you start losing the objective of why you're here, you came here to solely get fucked, not expecting anything but his cock inside you.
Time to put some sense into your head and laugh it off, "Oh, my God, Chris!" You gasp out loud.
His forehead wrinkles in question, "What?"
"Yes, we can fuck again, no need to try so hard," you say with a sassy eye roll.
Learning that he's being pranked, he squints his eyes at you with his tongue pokes his cheek. While clutching his chest, he says, "Gosh, I thought—"
Before he can finish his sentence, you shut him up with a kiss because you don't want to keep talking about your feelings or get reminded of how things were when you were still together. You kiss him because you want to forget.
"You thought what?" You ask as you sit on his lap.
He licks his lips and shakes his head, "Nothing."
He's more than glad to have you sitting on his lap as it allows him to hold you close. His hands trail the sides of your body until they eventually land on your ass and then eagerly fondle them in his hands. Catching you off guard, he lands a slap on your ass cheek.
"Chris!" You shriek, abruptly stop kissing him, "That stings!"
"Can't help it," he innocently says while laughing and then pulls you close to kiss you again before you scold him more.
As a safety measure, you take his hands from your ass and fold them together on his chest but he takes it to his advantage, he finds another playground for his lewd hands.
Doesn't want to waste time unbuttoning it, he slips his hand under your shirt to fondle your breast, circling his fingers around your nipple before pinching at it.
He then lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool night air, and wastes no time to bury his head in between your mounds. He then pulls the shirt down and hides himself in it, acting like a toddler by purposely placing ticklish kisses on you to make you laugh
"Stop playing," you scold him with your hand tangled in his curls, "Let's go to bed, mmh?"
Chan pops his head out through the opening of the shirt and looks at you, "Kiss me first," he demands.
How can you say no when he looks at you with fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face? You fulfill his wish and place a long, lingering kiss on his lips.
"Can we go now?" You say the second you pull away from the kiss.
"Okay," he obliges.
He gets out of your shirt first and you get off his lap next, then starts walking toward the bedroom when Chan suddenly comes from behind you and hoists you up, looking unbothered carrying you on his shoulder.
"To the bed!" He announces, then slaps the back of your thigh.
"Chris!" You scold again but you can't do anything about it as you hang upside-down on his back.
The bed is already a mess and it seems like it's going to get even messier with the way Chan constantly has you pinned under him. He kisses your lips, softly yet hungrily like devouring an ice cream.
Aware that he has taken his turn, Chan doesn't complain when you flip him over and take it over from him. You're straddling him, rubbing his cock between your slit while he's unbuttoning your shirt open.
You find yourself wet for him again in no time and his cock is as hard as you need it to be, maybe this is why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are always horny for each other.
You let out a low, long moan the whole time you lower yourself on him and a seductive chuckle slips out of your mouth the second he's fully buried inside you.
When you look down at him, you find him staring at you with his mouth agape. You slyly smile and place both of your hands on his glorious pecs, "Have you always been this big?"
Chan licks his lips and rests his hands on your thighs, "And have you always been this tight?" He asks back instead of answering.
Being on top gives you the freedom to set a pace you prefer and switch positions as you like, more importantly, you can fully enjoy every bit of it. But it's working because Chan is such a great partner, he lets you have full control and lets you take your time.
If not using his hands to touch you all over, he has his hands folded under his head and quietly enjoying watching you fucking him.
"If you keep clenching around me like that, I might cum too fast," he tells you.
"I'm okay with that," you calmly respond.
To tease him more, you purposely keep clenching around him and rolling your hips in circular motions. Somehow you stop focusing on getting your high and start thinking about how to please him more.
"Oh," he loudly groans and his hand grips at your waist, "You're bad!"
You giggle in response while continuing to roll your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion.
"Oh, you're really, really bad," he says with ragged breath.
The sex may not be as hard or as intense as the previous one but it's just as good, even better. Maybe it's the unwavering eye contact, maybe it's the way he hisses every time you tease him, or the way he trusts you to make him feel good.
Whatever it is, you feel like sharing an intimate moment with him and you can't lie, it feels special.
"Are you close?" You ask because you're very close to your climax.
"I've been waiting for you to ask me that," he hastily answers, still able to joke in a heating moment like this.
You take him along with you to the edge and not stopping until the two of you come to your release, you keep moving at a sloppy pace to ride out the high.
Chan pulls you close, forcing you to lower yourself onto his body and accidentally sending his cock to slip out. You don't mind it at first but you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.
You break the kiss and mutter in panic, "It's dripping."
"I'll put it back in," he simply responds, reaching down for his cock and slowly pushes it back into you.
Now that it's resolved, he puts his arms around you again and pulls you even closer until your bodies mold into one another, then kisses you more.
Without looking and breaking the kiss, he pulls the duvet and covers both of your bodies with it, ready to end the night with your bodies still connected.
"Have I told you this?" He suddenly asks.
"What?"
He looks at you with his brown eyes that looks like a nice cup of cocoa, comforting and warm.
"I miss you," he ever softly says.
There he goes again, making you debate whether you came here for the sex or to try to rekindle old sparks with him. But in all honesty, it feels good to know that the yearning goes both ways.
For once, you let your heart answer it for you.
"I miss you too, Chris," you mutter back with a smile.
And now you start debating if seeing him tonight is indeed a bad idea.
-
There's a wet, squelching sound when you first come to your senses the next morning, you feel like sleeping for another hour or two but you also feel the urge to check what that noise is all about.
You force open your eyes and find out right away the source of that wet, squelching sound, it's coming from Chan and he has his mouth latched to your breast.
"Morning, Chris," you croak as you brush your hair away from your face.
He lets go of your breast with a loud pop and looks at you, "Did I wake you?"
"Not really," you answer, putting your hand in his fluffy bedhead.
"I'm sorry," he says but not looking like it.
"Are you? Sorry?" You jokingly say and lay back on your pillow.
He slyly grins and shifts his focus back to playing with your mounds. He holds your breast up and uses his slick tongue to tease your nipple, alternating between licking and sucking.
It's normal to feel horny in the morning and, you find yourself already wet under there, you guess Chan has been helping himself while you were still sleeping.
Chan's head hangs above your chest and you can see how much he's enjoying your breasts, playing with them like a toddler, he even makes noises as he fills his mouth with your ample flesh.
"Aren't you leaving today? Shouldn't we get up and shower?" You mutter, softly scratching his scalp as you talk.
He sucks at your breast so hard and pulls it before letting it go, grinning as he is satisfied with what he just did.
"My flight is in the afternoon," he says.
"And I'd better go so you can pack—"
"But I already ordered breakfast," he whines like a fussy child.
"Well, we can shower first."
"They'll send breakfast at 8," he shares with a wild grin.
You turn your head to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall, "But it's hardly 7."
"Exactly!" He exclaims.
"Exactly what?" You ask in genuine confusion.
He buries his head in your neck and whispers, "We have an hour before breakfast."
Despite catching on to his intention, you decide to act dumb, "And?"
"And..." he inhales your scent before hovering above you, "I'll have my breakfast first."
He winks at you then goes under the duvet, and settles himself between your legs to have his so-called breakfast and it only makes sense that it progresses to intercourse.
Morning sex offers different things, it's the quiet, the peace, the slivers of morning sun shining through the cracks of the curtains, doing it with a refreshed mind and body, it's also the best way to start the day.
It's even better when you get to be a pillow princess, you just lay back and let Chan do all the handwork. He has your legs locked around his waist as he thrusts into you at a slow yet steady pace and in every thrust, he makes you feel every inch of his length rubbing against your walls.
"This is just great," he says with his face pressed to the side of your head.
"Mmh, what?" You respond as best as you can.
"I don't have to do cardio today," he says with a low chuckle.
This is your favorite kind of sex, do it by not taking it too seriously. Because in your opinion, other than it should be comfortable for the individuals involved, sex should be fun.
You kiss his open mouth and drag your lips down to his neck, then plant your mouth on his skin, sucking at it hard enough to form a hickey on it.
"What's that about?" He's rather dumbfounded instead of annoyed.
"Just trying to make it fair," you coyly say as you point to the blossoming mark he made on your breast.
"Yeah, okay," he says in defeat.
As much as you don't want the sex to end, it eventually ends but in a rather explosive, euphoric way. You feel like you've just been given another chance at life after that last orgasm.
"Who needs coffee, huh?" You sigh as you blankly stare at the ceiling.
It's a rhetorical question but Chan decides to respond to it anyway, "Not me, apparently."
Then you remember that he indeed doesn't drink nor need coffee to function, "Not you, apparently," you correct your earlier remark.
Chan carefully lowers himself on top of you and hastily kisses you, both of your teeth almost colliding.
"Thought I was still dreaming when I woke up next to you," he says, coming with another sentimental remark that evokes something deep within you.
You decide to push it further down and keep it there by saying, "Ugh. It's too early for that," you groan.
Chan weakly chuckles with his head nestled in your neck and just like the universe knows you need the distraction, the knocking comes on the door and it must be the breakfast.
You gently pat his head and say, "Now, go get my coffee!"
The morning continues with a quiet breakfast, it's obvious the reason why, the two of you burnt so many calories last night and need a reload.
Then there's the shower and you strongly refuse to share with him or else, it'll take much time. But Chan has an even stronger will and joins you anyway.
This is another reason why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are the same insatiable creatures.
The two of you dressed in silence and at times, catch him watching you, instead of feeling shy, you give him a proper show, bending down and wriggling your ass as you put your underwear on.
Chan enjoys every bit of it, he grins and bites his lips, tempted to come up at you, and goes at it again, but sadly, time is running out.
It's here, this is where it's going to end and you never know when you'll see him again, and that's even if you're still able to. You can only hope that he doesn't see how much you want him to stay.
"This is it then," you say, standing right in front of him in the foyer.
He takes your hand, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, "Can I still text you?"
"Sure," you answer.
"How about phone calls?"
"Booty calls only," you jokingly say.
He smiles and takes a step closer to you, you can almost see every moment the two of you shared last night flashes in his eyes, and it's achingly beautiful.
"Can I kiss you before you leave?"
You plan to make the goodbye as brief and as painless as possible but you don't want to risk losing the opportunity to make it a not-so-sad ending. But if you have to be honest, you simply want to kiss him.
"Okay," you agree with a nod.
You put your arms around his shoulders and let your body molds into him as he holds you close, you tilt your head up and close your eyes.
The moment your lips make contact, your heart bursts open and there's no way of stopping your feelings flow out of it so you let them be. You let him feel your pain, your yearning, and ultimately, your feelings for him that you try so hard to conceal, and then slowly, you pull away from the kiss before they fight their way out of your heart.
It's possible that Chan feels it too, that the kiss feels intimate, the kiss feels emotional, and a little close to the heart. He pulls you into a hug that lasts for a long time as if he tries to convey some unspoken messages too.
"No need to send me off," you tell him, not wanting to make it sadder than it already is.
Chan walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back and then keeps it open for the final goodbye. You stand facing him and say, "Goodb—"
He puts his finger on your lips to stop you from finishing your sentence, "I'll see you when I see you."
That sounds like he indirectly promises you that one day, he'll come and see you again, and surprisingly, it only makes you uneasy.
You put on a smile and try another way to say goodbye, "Have a safe flight, Chris."
As you get into the back of the taxi, you get these familiar feelings and unfortunately, they're not the good kind. You feel like you went through the same thing before, you feel angry, you feel sad, and lost, and you feel this tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. Then it hits you that it feels exactly like that day he broke up with you, this is the feeling of heartbreak.
In the end, you got your physical needs at the price of having to face your feelings and it all comes down to one conclusion: seeing him was a bad idea.
-
ONE MONTH LATER
It's like you're trapped in an endless loop, it's the weekend and you're lying on your bed, horny and bored.
Your phone is blaring with notifications and messages, you check and skim through them, they're from your friends or some other miscellaneous, you couldn't care less.
In other words, they're not the notifications you've been anticipating.
Chan has been diligently contacting you, sometimes he texted and when he's not, he calls you late at night because apparently, he's always busy during the day. The point is he always contact you by any means of communication.
However, for these past few days, it's been total radio silence. He's not even looking at the pictures you specifically posted to thirst-trap him. If only he knows how much time and energy you've spent just to get a single flattering shot of yourself. Ugh!
As you're about to spiral down, your phone dings and you consider ignoring it to spare you from getting disappointed all over again.
After a moment though, you cave in. You unlock your phone and get greeted by the very notification you've been dying to get.
What you doin'?
Busy running around in my head? He wrote a corny message and added a crying laughing emoji.
A week of no contact and that's the first thing he said? You scoff in disbelief and just stare at the messages, you've learned to make him wait for your reply and use the time to think of witty, flirty answers to his messages.
Am I running with clothes on or naked? You playfully ask back, giggling as you type it.
I think you know the answer. He wrote back with a winking emoji.
Let's hope I don't catch a cold then. You jokingly write in response.
You should stop cause it does things to me.
One minute he's corny, one minute he's cute, and the rest of the time? Hot, confident, and flirty, and you eat those shit up.
Things like what? You reply.
Like this. He wrote along with a picture.
Intrigued, you hurriedly click open the attachment and it's a picture he took of him in the mirror, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Your eyes feast on his glorious Greek God body, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders, and eventually your eyes flick down to the bulge inside his underwear.
In all honestly, it's the first thing that catches your eye because it's so fucking big and the underwear does nothing but enhance the shape and the size.
All of a sudden, you feel thirsty, literally and figuratively, and Chan knows how to make you keep swallowing air by sending you another picture.
The picture is of the same setting but in a rather different position, he's sitting on a chair, slightly slumped with his legs spread wide open and his hand holding his bulge.
Wish it was your hand.
Did he take a class on how to take good thirst traps and nudes? Because damn! Two pictures are enough to make you feel like an animal in heat.
Can I have it in my mouth instead?
Want to have you in my mouth.
Being straightforward mixed with the drooling emoji always works but what really does it is the one magic word: Please?
A minute later, there's no reply from him but your phone rings, he's calling you and you scramble to sit on the bed. You take a deep breath first before hitting the accept call button.
"Hello?"
"Gosh, I want you so much," He suddenly says, no greetings or small talk first. He goes straight to what he wants and you kind of dig that.
You giggle into the phone and playfully ask, "How much?"
"So fucking much," he emphasizes every word and lets out a heavy sigh after.
"Come and maybe I'll give it to you," you seductively say while playing with the lint on your denim shorts, "Maybe."
He chuckles and then jokingly says, "I'm on my way."
"Don't make me wait long," you play along with him but secretly wish that it's true.
You hear rustles from his end of the phone call and think he's probably calling you while lying on his bed but then, you hear the sound of bustling streets and car horns and—
"You're not really on the way, right?" You nervously ask, twisting the loose thread around your index finger.
"I told you, I'm coming," he coyly says.
Your heart skips a beat but he could be anywhere, he could be driving to work or you know, in a taxi in... Australia. Right?
"Chris..." you meekly call him.
"Yes?"
"Are you in the city?" You ask to confirm his location.
"Suprise!" He exclaims followed by a series of giggles.
Yes, you secretly wish that he was coming, but not now but not now and maybe, not ever because the last time you saw each other, things didn't end well for you.
So seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?
"Why didn't you—" You don't know how to word it without sounding like you're not grateful for his surprise.
"I want to see you," he says, cutting through your silence, "Do you want to see me too?"
What should you do? You don't want him to come but at the same time, you want him to come. Oh, God, this is so confusing!
You want to lie so badly but your heart won't let you, "I want to see you," you openly admit.
"I'm coming so wait for me, yeah?" He softly mutters.
"Okay," you weakly reply.
"I'll see you in a bit," he says with a smile that you can hear through the phone.
"See you."
The second you hang up the call, you start pacing back and forth in your room. He'll be here anytime soon and it'll be just like that night all over again.
You almost jump when the knock comes on the door and you slowly walk to the door, just standing there with your hand on the knob, debating if you should ignore him and pretend you're not home.
The knocks come again and reflexively, you turn the knob and pull the door open.
There he is in a white shirt and blue jeans, the simplest way of dressing yet somehow, it looks incredibly stunning on him.
"Hi," he says with a sweet grin on his face.
His hair is slightly tousled, he smells incredible and those dimples have the power to make you soften around him almost immediately, they're your kryptonite.
"Hi," you say back, lingering by the doorway.
"Brought you wine," he says, showing the bottle of red wine in his hand.
You tilt your head to the side and fight the urge to jump at him and climb him like a tree.
"That's so nice of you," you say with a smile.
"Can I come in?" He asks, gesturing his head toward the inside of your apartment.
But it's a bad idea, right?
However, you find yourself nodding and you step aside, "You may come in."
Chan steps inside and you close the door behind you after. The second you turn around, he pushes you to the wall and crashes his lips against yours.
And you know what? Fuck it! It's fine.
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Pocket Money | Lance Stroll x Reader
Summary: Since the start of the relationship, fans have been convinced you're only with Lance for his money. When he mentions your future in an interview, they accuse you of trying to baby trap him.
Warnings: Swearing. Angst but mostly just for sadness. Hateful fans.
Female reader with various facelaims. Pics found on Pinterest.
A bit different to the other three.
next.
Main Masterlist
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YourUserName just posted
liked by lancestroll, chloestroll and others
YourUserName lovely london was kind enough to be sunny for me this weekend 🇬🇧
2,385 comments
chloestroll i’m still so jealous that you didn’t take me
→ YourUserName yes but if i had, i’d have spent the entire time trying to stop you from running off with a brit. i doubt scotty would appreciate that
→ scottyjames31 do NOT let her run off with a british man
→ YourUserName make sure you behave yourself then
User1 oh, so she’s on yet another holiday funded by her sweet, naive boyfriend who can’t tell he’s with a gold digger
User2 that’s it sweetheart. post pics of your trip that your boyfriend undoubtedly paid for whilst he’s busy racing all weekend without your support
User3 she’s quite possibly the worst wag. give the role to someone who would enjoy being there
→ User4 it’s not a fucking role, sweetheart. being someone’s fiancée is not a role you play, and i think y/n happens to do an amazing “part”
danielricciardo bring me back some crunchies
→ YourUserName no, i got into trouble last time. your trainer told me that you’re not allowed them
→ danielricciardo boo, you whore
User5 so she’s on yet another weekend away in london the same weekend that lance is racing in jeddah? can she make it anymore obvious that she doesn’t support him?
→ User6 her job means she has to travel a lot - just like lance - so unfortunately she cannot follow him around the world
→ User7 you tell ‘em, honey. y/n is a successful businesswoman but everyone seems to forget that? she makes every race when she can but sometimes she can’t get out of work
→ User8 at the end of the day, their relationship is none of our business
astonmartinf1 missing your face in the paddock this weekend
→ YourUserName i miss you too! although i bet nando is enjoying the peace and quiet
→ astonmartinf1 can neither confirm nor deny but he did mention something about yapping
User9 this is so cute. the way his whole face lights up when he’s asked about/talks about her
User10 not lance revealing that y/n would run away and marry him just to call him her husband
→ User11 yes! but he’s so dedicated to giving her the wedding she wanted since she was a child. these two have my whole entire heart 🥰
User12 ugh, where can i get a lance stroll? the way he loves his fiancee 😍 and not him being desperate to have babies with her
User13 so is this confirmation that y/n is pregnant? like, if he wants a baby in a year, then..?
→ User14 wouldn’t surprise me. if they get married, he can still make her sign a prenup and divorce her without a worry, but a baby would tie him to her for life so she can continue to spend his money
→ User15 okay but i’m with you on this. it’s the best way to ensure she can keep him around in some way because let’s be honest, their relationship doesn’t seem the best
→ User9 what the fuck is wrong with you two. where in that entire interview were you getting the impression their relationship is on the rocks? he’s literally planning an entire life with her???
→ User15 yeah and where is she? unbothered in london. she’s only with him for the money and that’s the only reason why they’re engaged.
→ User13 they’re engaged because they love each other! he’s also the one who said he wants her to have his children so he can keep her home????
→ User14 no they’re engaged because for some reason, he’s infatuated with her and she’s only using him, and she’s clearly tricked him into wanting children without realising that’s further entrapment
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YourBrother just posted
liked by danielricciardo, yourbestfriend and others
YourBrother when sprout takes time out of her busy life to visit, Nonna cooks a whole feast (can you tell who the favourite is) tagged: YourUserName
879 comments
YourCousin the only reason we look forward to y/n coming home is because nonna feeds us GOOD
→ YourCousin2 agreed, nothing to do with us missing y/n at all
→ YourUserName this is why i left 😂😭
User1 anyone else find it odd that she’s in a different country again on race weekend? i mean, i know her and lance were still a couple last month but i’m starting to wonder if that’s changed
→ User2 she’s also not been active on socials despite that being part of her job description?
→ User3 can you blame her when everyone constantly hates on her
→ User4 being on media isn’t part of her job, she just liked to share her adventures with us and some of you arseholes ruined that.
User5 oh my gosh, her parents are so cute together. i want to be like that when i’m older
→ User6 and her brother and SIL curled up in the chair together. this family really do produce the cutest couples
→ User7 looks like the only absent spouse is lance :(
→ User8 um because he’s currently in china? he has more important things to be doing??
User9 i love that her brother's first idea to cheer her up is to give her beer
→ User10 well, at least we know she’s not pregnant currently
→ User11 thank god. we know lance is free from her in that aspect
→ User9 seriously? making these comments on twitter wasn't bad enough, you people are actually commenting on her BROTHER’s instagram
(Comments have been disabled for this post)
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astonmartinf1 just posted
liked by estebanocon, YourUserName and others
astonmartinf1 our first race back in shanghai sees a p7 finish for fernando with the fastest lap. lance comes home in p15 after contact earlier in the race
1,443 comments
User12 literally give the seat to anyone other than lance stroll please
User13 can we all stop hating on lance, please? it was an accident, they happen
User14 not him blaming danny ric. sweetie, the car has brakes for a reason
User15 danny ric was fuming but also seemed like he was trying not to be
→ User16 no literally. it was like he was trying not to say something but in one interview slipped up and said that lance has been really distracted due to issues at home
→ User17 i saw that! and the way he ran away after like ‘oo the team is calling me’
→ User18 are we smelling a breakup?
User19 i personally think lance stroll shouldn’t be in f1 but can we take a moment to think that whilst it was really bad driving, he’s not been himself lately? he looks really sad in all the media things
→ User20 literally, like he’s constantly coming under hate for his fiancée, and then she hasn’t been to any races recently and he’s not talked about wedding planning once. this is the man who was telling everyone about his wedding even if they didn’t ask
→ User1 maybe he realised that his girlfriend was a gold digging bitch
→ User2 literally. he talked about having children with her and then realised that meant she’d never leave
→ User3 you people are actually crazy. how do you turn a man talking about wanting children into the woman he loves trying to baby trap him? y/n has never talked about wanting kids
→ User4 this. like i definitely think they’ve broken up but for all we know, it could be that lance was talking about children and y/n realised she wasn’t ready/didn’t want them.
User5 can’t believe people are still running the baby narrative. we know nothing about their relationship because they’re quite a private couple - and after this, we can see why - and yet people have somehow created a whole drama about babies from nothing
User6 i know lance is one of the more private f1 drivers but i really think he needs to comment on this? the amount of hate y/n is getting is insane and shouldn’t be ignored
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YourUserName just posted
liked by estebanocon, danielricciardo and others
YourUserName the view from my office is better than yours. sorry, not sorry
863 comments
BestFriend i’m looking for a woman in finance, trust fund
→ YourUserName you know you’re welcome to my trust fund anytime
→ BestFriend the best sugar mommy i’ve ever had
YourBrother congratulations on your promotion, shithead. one step away from ceo!
User7 wait why did no one tell me she was running a company?
→ User8 babe, we’ve been telling you bitches this from the start! but none of you listened
chloestroll congratulations, business barbie 💕
→ YourUserName thank you, music barbie 🤍
→ User3 so chloe is still here? does that mean we’re still getting a wedding
→ User9 idk. lance isn’t in the likes..?
→ User10 @ chloestroll please tell us what you know. Some of us are rooting for them to end up together
User11 so she goes radio silent for three months just to come back and pretend like she has a job? nothing about the man she supposedly loves?
→ User12 seems shady to me. you got caught out for being a gold digger so now you’re going to act like you actually go to work?
→ User13 i really hate people like you
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Baby Fever Angst Series
Daniel's Version | Max's Version | Lando's Version
Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version
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Ryoko Kui Q&A (part of the Autograph event in Shanghai, China)
Here's the full Q&A copied from the post by Minute_Profession_34 on reddit
Original on weibo
About Ryoko Kui
Q: You have created a lot of interesting short manga in the past, do you have any favorite short manga by other artists?
A: A classic choice though, I think it's the collection of short stories by Fujiko F. Fujio. Other impressive works include "Hanshin: Half-God" by Moto Hagio, "Hanashippanashi " by Daisuke Igarashi, "茄子" by 黑田硫黄, "Skygrazer" by Ishiguro Masakazu, and "Tabi (The Journey of Life)" by Irie Aki. However, I haven't really read many short manga compilations.
Q: Do you prefer to create short manga or longer ones?
A: Long manga.
Q: Do you have a game that you highly recommend to fans?
A: Although not a game title, Steam Deck is the best thing I have bought in the last few years.
Q: What kind of music genre do you like?
A: I'm really not a music person and don't listen to music at all. Sometimes I listen to something like Tropical House.
About the creation & worldview of Dungeon Meshi
Q: Is the main storyline of the comics conceived at the beginning? Is the final ending adjusted during the serialization process?
A: I decided everything from the beginning. It may sound overly pretentious to say that, but I am the type of person who cannot move forward with each and every story unless I have decided on the main flow of the story. Of course, there are parts that I changed during the process because I thought, "I was going to do it this way, but it might not be natural," and there are parts that didn't work out the way I wanted them to. However, I think the story turned out to be roughly what I had in mind at the beginning.
Q: Will people outside of the dungeon incorporate the use of magic into their daily lives?
A: It would depend on the region. There are many sorcerers in elven and gnome cultures, but I don't think you will find many in dwarf and most short-lived cultures.
Q: What secrets of ancient magic are the elves hiding? Why would one be punished for doing anything related to ancient magic?
A: It is about the existence of Demon. They restricted that information because they didn't know what effect it would have on the world if the existence of Ddemon became known.
Q: How do adventurers know the time? Is there any dungeon having a different time flow from the normal world?
A: Some people bring things like clocks, but most only use their biological clock. There are also Dungeons where the flow of time is different from that on the ground.
Q: In the world of Dungeon Meshi, how do you deal with natural disasters, what would Laios or Marcille or Canaries do when there's a drought or a storm?
A: I don’t think it is so different from us.
About characters in Dungeon Meshi
Q: It’s about to give the new puppy a name again. Can Laos still beat Falin?
A: 7 out of 10, Laios will win. Or it may be decided by rock-paper-scissors or a raffle.
Q: Who will inherit the Golden Land after the passaway of Laios? The children and grandchildren of Yaad? Or the descendants of Laios? Or will there be a new Devourer?
A: Maybe the descendants of the Laios will inherit it, or maybe it will be passed on to someone with no blood ties at all. Or perhaps the monarchy will be abolished.
Q: Will Laios continue to eat monsters in the castle? And who will cook, maybe someone better than Senshi?
A: Many people in Merini are good cooks, but Senshi's cooking must be special to Laios. He may invite Senshi to cook from time to time.
Q: Where will Falin prefer to travel to?
A: She may prefer places where she can see landscapes and cultures she has never seen before.
Q: Would Marcille befriend a half-elf, such as Fionil? Since half-elves shouldn't think too much about longevity amongst themselves. Or would they not consider race as a factor to make friends but by fate?
A: Because mixed species in this world grow at very different rates and have very different abilities from person to person, there is often not much of a sense of sameness when you first meet them. They may or may not become friends as a result of interacting with each other as we would with any other human being.
Q: Is there any special meaning of Marcille and her mother's ribbons on the neck? And what about Cithis’s ribbon?
A: In elven culture, people with magic tattoos on their necks sometimes wear decorations covering their necks to hide the tattoos (mainly military personnel) This has spread to the general population, and many people wear decorations on their necks even if they do not have neck tattoos. Marcille and her mother's ribbons are just for fashion. While Cithis may have something special.
Q: Why wouldn’t Cithis wear a gorget? Or she’s not afraid of Dungeon Rabbits?
A: Maybe it’s suffocating or simply not liking it? The head-cutting Dungeon Rabbit is a fearsome monster, but it is not the first thing for the rear guard to be on the lookout for.
Q: How will Izutsumi and Falin get along with each other?
A: They may work together if necessary, but I doubt that Izutsumi will actively show interest in Falin (as she does with everyone).
Q: Itsuzumi has a beast soul mixed with a small amount of human soul, and does she shapeshift between a beast-man and a beast form like Lycion?
A: It can be done, but once transformed, she may no longer want to return to her human form.
*This Q&A seems to be strange
Q: What would Thistle do if he attended the former dungeon masters meetings?
A: Perhaps he would feel angry at the incompetence of other masters (their dependence on the devil).
Q: How did Milsiril accept Helki to stay by her side? After all, she hated elves and was bullied by her Canary teammates.
A: In the past, Helki was abandoned by his comrades for various reasons, and she could not leave him alone.
Q: Has Kabru ever had a real relationship with a girl? If so, what race or personality type of the girl was she?
A: I don’t think he cares about race, etc...
Q: What kind of soba will Mithrun make?
A: I hope he can make delicious soba.
Q: I would like to know the name of Mithrun’s brother or his brother’s crush!
A: His brother's name is Obrin (オブリン). I haven't thought of a particular name for his brother’s crush, so I'll name her appropriately now. Hmmm. Sultha (スルスハ).
Q: Since Mithrun used to assist Canary from behind, I wonder what kind of weapons he was good at using? Or was he good at using no weapons? (this is new info from the Korean Q&A)
A: He used a magic staff similar to that used by Pattadol. He was issued with the same one by the team. However, he no longer carried it because he lost it easily.
#Ryoko Kui#Long post#dungeon meshi spoilers#dungeon meshi#Laios Touden#Marcille Donato#Fionil#Milsiril#Helki#Kabru#Senshi#Obrin#Sultha#Mithrun#Falin Touden#qna#longpost#long post#thistle#thistle dungeon meshi
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)
word count: 4.7k
notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)
You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room.
You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off.
So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.
You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not.
You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night.
That is, until you opened the door.
“Oh,” you said involuntarily.
"There's only one bed,” Spencer said.
“Sure looks that way.”
"At least it's a queen?"
There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time.
"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began.
"I mean, I guess I don't really–"
"–although, JJ did say we got the last–"
"–mind as long as you–"
You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement.
"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."
"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”
It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be.
"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.
"Right."
The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.
"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window.
"No, you're not doing that."
"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.
"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.”
Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.”
God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team.
Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it.
Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep.
Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still.
“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."
You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke.
The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind.
“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.
"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.
You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers.
Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right.
From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that.
He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again.
Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you.
Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together.
Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell.
“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”
You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal.
Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot.
“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation.
You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.”
He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him.
“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.
“Sorry,” you managed.
“For what?”
“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.”
“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.”
Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further.
“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.”
“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!”
“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.”
“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.”
“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.”
“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him.
“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat.
“You just said ass.”
“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.”
“Right, of course. It’s my fault.”
“I knew you’d agree.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed.
Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting.
Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed.
You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep.
But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself.
Eventually, exhaustion won out.
You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what?
You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black.
Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?!
“Hey, you okay?”
“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.”
“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well.
“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.”
You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.
He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated.
“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way.
“You were on my pillow, by the way.”
“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him.
“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.”
“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again.
“That wasn’t me complaining about it.”
“Oh,” was all you could think to say back.
It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest.
“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious.
“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing.
“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?”
“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.”
He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer.
“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.
“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.”
“Don’t profile me.”
“I’m not. I just know you.”
You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.”
“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.”
“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.”
“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.”
You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip.
“And you stuttered when I brought it up.”
“I told you to stop profiling me.”
This time, he just hummed in response.
“And so what if I stuttered?”
“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.”
Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list.
“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–”
“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed.
“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.”
“That all makes total sense.”
“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved.
“Now tell me the rest of it.”
“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well.
You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and–
“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream.
“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent.
It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing.
“Yes.”
You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word.
Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it.
“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.
You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry.
He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–”
“It is.”
“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.”
“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.”
Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back.
Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you.
“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked.
“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.”
“I was not–”
“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.
“Oh, this was such a mistake.”
He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“
“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.”
He laughed, and your cheeks warmed.
“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.”
You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?”
“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.”
Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.”
He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.”
You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.”
“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you.
After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed.
For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside.
You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again.
“Okay, was it just me, or–”
“That was crazy,” you breathed.
“Crazy,” he agreed.
“Spence?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?”
Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless.
“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.”
“Well, you kissed me.”
“I did.”
“How were you not nervous?” you breathed.
“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.”
You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.”
“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.”
“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.”
He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist.
“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it.
“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.”
“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.”
“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer.
You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages.
“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.”
“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“You’re such an ass.”
A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up.
You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you.
Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker.
You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left.
You text back: okay?
Spencer: My crush asked me out last night.
You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face.
You: what did u say?
Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first.
You: i think u should say yes, obviously.
Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.
You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded.
You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt
You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success.
Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night
You: i promise i won’t try to jump you
Spencer: Oh
Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here
You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much
Spencer: That’s rich coming from you
You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you.
You: whatever. wear something sexy ;)
You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh.
“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask.
Shit.
“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat.
Unbelievable.
You: you’re unhinged :*
Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you?
You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep
Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful
You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty
Spencer: Stop flirting with me
You: bc you’re too delicate??
Spencer: Yes
You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace.
You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that
You heard a page turn.
You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.
This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed.
#so they have flip phones but i didnt want to write everything in shorthand so theyre just really fast at it. go with it#spencer texts with perfect grammar bc of course he does#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#my fics
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Post Break Up Hair - Joe Burrow
Pairing: Joe Burrow x ex!reader
Word Count: 1.1k+
Warning: ex's, stupid reason for breaking up, a bit of angst with happy ending, making fun of joe's blonde buzzcut
A/N: wrote this after last nights game against the giants. I saw that his hair was getting back to normal. I could not take him seriously when he debuted his new look, i think i got the ick when i first saw it.
Masterlist / NFL Masterlist
"Slim Shady Burrow!"
"Joe Burrow rocking a new look ahead of the next season."
"Blonde and a Buzzcut for the Bengals QB."
You were not expecting Joe to go into full breakdown mode once you broke up during training camp. The break up was mutual enough for harsh things not to be said, but it was nonetheless heartbreaking. The break up was brought up by you, after the last two seasons and losing in the super bowl, Joe's mental hasn't been the best so the most logical thing to do was take a break. Of course Joe was against it, but you somehow convinced him to try it. After hours of arguing he gave in with tears streaming down his face. Years of trying to be there for him, it didn't seem like it was working so what else were you supposed to do. When he first joined the NFL you promised to help him make his career better and this was your final effort.
Seeing the headlines of your ex's new hair cut, you couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He was definitely a girl in his past life. No other man you know would go to that extreme after a break up. Although part of you couldn't help but feel bad. It was evident he was taking the break up hard. Sure he might've looked good for training camp and got more attention because of the hair cut, but once season started it was like nothing improve, it looked like it go worst.
By week six, their record was 1-4. One of the worst starts to the season they had in awhile. Their only win came from the panthers, a team that was worst than them so it only made sense that they would win against the team. By that point you couldn't help but be hit with regret and sorrow. You couldn't help but think that you breaking up with Joe was making his season worst. I mean how could you not think that especially seeing them losing the first game of the season to the patriots, a team who was still trying to function without Belichick.
At this point, you could not take it. Seeing them in that state was depressing. You knew that reaching out to Joe would life his spirits. You were determined to change his mood before their game against the giants. With that being said you felt like calling or texting him out of the blue asking to get back together would be weird. If the roles were revered, no way would you take him back.
The next idea was to surprise him at the game and hope he sees you during warm ups. You still had season passes in the family section thanks to joe putting your name down. Every week for a home game you got the email about the unused tickets. This week you would take advantage of it.
Making your way into the stadium, you planned it early enough so there wouldn't be an abundant amount of people, so Joe can spot you more easily. As you made your way to the family section you recognized a few of the wags who looked at you with shock written all over their faces. It's made its way around the locker room that you and Joe broke up so their expression wasn't out of the blue.
After greeting them and answering questions it was time for the team to start making their way out. Immediately you locked onto Joe. His buzzcut was growing out and his blonde was turning more platinum. He looked good, better than he did during training. For awhile he was locked in doing a couple of stretches and a few passing routes. After awhile his eyes scanned the bleachers, appreciating all the fans that would be there to see them. Suddenly his eyes passed onto your section and you were the first person he laid his eyes on. He couldn't believe it was you. His eyes held shock with his mouth agape. Ja'marr came up to his friend to see what made him look like he saw a ghost, suddenly his eyes landed on you and a smirk appeared on his face. As if Joe was in a trace Ja'marr broke him out of it by nudging him in your section.
Seeing him run up to your section you made your way down to the railing to get as close as you can. For a second both of you just stared at each other being to nervous to say anything. It was Joe who broke the silence first.
"You're here."
"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what to say for weeks but now i don't have words." You got out, your nerves taking over the whole speech you had in your head.
"Weeks?"
"I realized I made a mistake to break things up. I thought it would be better for you, but it was worst, i'm sorry."
"I missed you." He said caving in right away. Any normal person would make you work for it, but Joe just missed you. He knew deep down that you didn't really want to break up, you were just thinking about his career. He shouldn't have let you go so easily, it was him who hasn't been performing well not you.
"I missed you since the day I walked out that door."
"Is the 'taking a break' part of our life over?" He asked with hope in his eyes. He was begging at this point. He didn't care who was around or what cameras were on him, he wanted you back.
"If you're willing to take me back." You smiled making one grow on his face. Suddenly he jumped on on the railing coming face to face with you. He wasted no time grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss. Both of you melted into the kiss and neither one of you wanted to pull back, but the need for air forced you both to.
"You're telling me i could've had that weeks ago?" His infamous smirk returned to his face. There was the Joe you knew.
"Yeah, but I didn't want to be photographed with your post break up hair, I was waiting till you grew it a bit." You teased running a hand through his growing hair making him melt into your touch.
"Are you serious." his smirk dropped making you let out a hearty laugh.
"I'm dead serious. You look like Cody Rhodes and I couldn't get the image out of my head."
"That teaches you a lesson. Never break up with me again."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Now go win this game so we can go home and I can dye your hair back to brown." You lightly shoved him seeing as he was losing grip on the railing.
"One last kiss for good luck." He pleaded making you smile and give in.
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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇, 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇!
★ — contents ! explicit sexual content: jjk men as camboys featuring you! breeding link, toys, sweet!gojo, switch!geto, mean!toji, husband!kento? mentioned, pussy slapping, smacking, smut overall!
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ GOJO SATORU
camboy!gojo who is the type of person to be very welcoming and greeting when he invites you over to his place to join him, he had already set everything up and led you to where he had the monitor set.
camboy!gojo who immediately gets into his character and proudly shows you off, bent over his lap while squeezing his forearm while his other his spreading your lips and showing the viewers.
camboy!gojo who asks the chat if he should let you cum, after overstimulating you the entire time with his fingers and the brand new toys he used in you. The comments are being flooded with everyone saying to keep edging you but gojo could tell you weren’t able to keep up.
camboy!gojo who whispered praises in your ear, reassuring you to give him one more, “you’re doing such a good job for me,” and “looking so pretty with your makeup all ruined”, feeling your hand clawing at his arm, realizing your about to cum, “that’s it…cum all over my fingers, baby.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ GETO SUGURU
camboy!geto who was actually pretty nervous about meeting up with you at your apartment until he got inside and saw how cozy it was, so many plants and shelf’s filled with books—full of smut of course, and your sage burning on an ashtray. He loved the decor but not as much as when he entered your room full of your toys, like some sort of collection you had for fun?
camboy!geto who started the business as a guy with a mask in most of his posts, continuing on from that then later going on in his career, taking of his mask later in the year. This was your first time seeing him in person and god did he look so fineee. You tried to compose yourself and led him to the bed that was placed infront of the monitor. He took the lead by kissing at your temple and gripping your ass, giving it a light snack.
camboy!geto who had you both strip naked and had you on top of him, making him lean against the headboard while he motioned you with your hips to ride him, when did he get so confident? You thought, speaking too soon like you always do, you hear him let out whimpers while the chat gets flooded with “awhhh’s” and “let us hear him moreee!”
camboy!geto who tries to bite his lip to hold himself back from making any other noises— making you slap him, “don’t be shy, let them hear hear you..” you gesture, you lift your hips up and down at his hard-on, making him groan at the feeling at your warm walls squeezing him. “f-feels too good! ‘need more, pleaseee, princess.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ TOJI FUSHIGURO
camboy!toji who had no shame and remorse towards his girls, he would be such a filthy beast in bed and never gave you time to catch up with him. Everything he did was for his pleasure and his only. Although with the way you had your lips wrapped around his cock, he couldn’t help but be so sweet— not all the way though, he still loved to torment you.
camboy!toji who had you in a 69 position, forcefully making you suck on him by smacking your pussy whenever you tried to catch your breathe, distracting yourself by reading the comments or looking back at him over your shoulder. “Nobody told you to stop, do that shit one more time and i won’t let you cum at all tonight.”
camboy!toji who got upset with your demeanor and pushed you on your knees and shot hot ropes of his cum all over your face, some slipping down all the way to your breast making you lick his cum of your body while making eye contact with the camera infront of you while he rams his cock inside you.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ KENTO NANAMI
camboy!kento who was more professional and always did what his partner felt like, he didn’t like to have random girls wrapped around his cock— preferring his own girlfriend or wife being the one who was doing that.
camboy!kento who just started last month but blew up one night, people liking him for his voice and physic. His fans loved you the most though, whatever they put in the chat and asked you to do you would, making your view go up by ten percent and getting more subscriptions.
camboy!kento who loved when you would show the audience how much he would fill you up by opening up legs and watching his cum slip out your little pretty cunt, comments taunting him and asked if he had some sort of breeding kink— making him blush and step out of the camera.
camboy!kento who loved how he showed you off and how he didn’t care who watched, he mostly did it because it was a kink you had, voyeurism, but he secretly developed the same kink but he wouldn’t tell you.
#euaphora#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#kento smut#nanami smut#toji smut#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen satoru#gojo x reader#geto smut#nanami x reader#gojo fluff#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#toji zenin#fushiguro toji x reader#megumi fushiguro#geto x reader#geto suguru#jujutsu geto#getou suguru x reader#jjk geto#jjk satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu sorcerer
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tread lightly | lhc
lee haechan x f!reader
wc: 17.6k
warnings: smut (MDNI!), established relationship, sexting, jealously, slight miscommunication, mark is an instigator, quite a few text messages, masturbation, kink discussion, mommy kink, nipple play, handjob, edging, overstimulation, barely there choking, unprotected sex, cockwarming, light exhibitionism, epilogue (kinda), dom!reader, sub!haechan
a/n: this fic has been a long time coming so i’m very excited that it’s out! i would like to thank @ncteez for letting me write a fic based on this post of hers! i hope everyone enjoys reading and let me know if you liked it!
It’s midnight and moonlight seeps through the curtain covered window, covering both you and Haechan. You're laying across his bare chest, your finger mindlessly drawing small patterns on it. You both feel sticky, breaths still heavy, yet no one bothers to get up. You peer up to look at Haechan through your eyelashes and see his eyes closed, with cheeks that are slightly flushed. Although you don’t want to break the peaceful silence of the night, you speak up with, “You take such good care of me.”
His eyes open, which then turn and peer down at you with a shy smile. He lets out a small laugh and wraps his arms around you, successfully entrapping you in a bear hug. You let out a small, “it’s still too hot!” which he ignores, and plants kisses along wherever he can reach. “You know I’m always going to be here to take care of you, baby,” he continues with a smirk, “you took care of me so good tonight, I could only return the favor.”
You playfully push him away from you and lay on your respectful side of the bed, while he sits up and stares down at you. His eyes only show love towards you, something that comes with two years of dating. You reach up and caress his cheek, which he takes as a sign to reach down to give you a kiss. “I hope you do know how much I love you, more than anything ever,” he says a little more seriously.
“Even more than your computer?” you tease.
“Hey! I’m being so serious right now!” he grins, letting you know he’s not genuinely mad.
“I’m kidding,” you say with a laugh, “and I hope you know that there’s nothing and no one else I could love more than you.” You sit up along with him and place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He nuzzles his face along your neck and presses kisses along the soft skin of your shoulder. A few moments pass of you two enjoying each other's presence, you gently ask, “Do you think you’re ready to clean up?” He lifts his face from your neck and nods, “I’ll go get a cloth for us.”
After some rummaging in the restroom, he returns with shorts on and a wet cloth for you. He looks at you, asking for approval to clean you up, and you nod, thanking him quietly. Once he finishes, he tells you to go use the restroom already. You groan out, “I don’t want to, I'm already too comfortable here.”
“I know that you love me so much,” you glare at him, “but I will drag you to that restroom if I need to.” With one last groan, you get up and slowly (and painfully) walk to the restroom. Once you finished what needed to be done, you see him scrolling on his phone, waiting for you. He looked up once he realized you were there, and laughed when he saw you limping.
“Don’t be mean! You did this to me!” You say while poking your finger in his chest. He laughs out loud and brings you down to snuggle against him.
“Don’t care how many times I’ve said this already, but I love you.” He was spooning you, and you felt his words travel past your ear. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling at the thought of the two of you. You whisper out into the dark night, “I love you too. Goodnight, Haechan.” With the two of you cuddled up next to each other, you fall asleep, waiting for what the next day brings.
Instead of awakening to the familiar light of the moon, the harsh sun forces its way in, even through the curtains. You check your phone for the time, and despite the fact that you slept late, you’re awake at eight in the morning. This isn’t the worst thing ever, considering the fact you have class a little after twelve, but you decide to lay in bed for a bit longer.
You turn over to see your boyfriend sprawled across your bed, his pillow somehow on the floor. You have always made fun of him and his sleeping habits, and he in turn mocks you for thinking how cute he is in any situation. You turn your attention to him, and once again draw patterns on his chest. For a while, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone while running your fingers along his abdomen, waiting for him to wake up.
Even though you’re a patient person, you do have things to do today and classes to attend. You have to wake Haechan up. Your gaze falls back to the hand on his chest, and you smirk to yourself. Your finger circles around his nipple and you lightly pinch it. His body suddenly shivers and goosebumps grow on his skin. His body shifts to grab your hand and just to make a point, you pinch his nipple one last time.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth before he turns towards you. He nuzzles his face in your chest and clings onto your t-shirt. He groggily starts with, “Baby… what d’you think you’re doin’…”
You can barely make out what he said, but you still reply with a giggle. You run your hands along his naked back and he just pushes his face closer to your chest. “Wake up, you big baby. The both of us have class soon.”
Haechan mumbles something incoherent into your shirt and you laugh, pulling him away from you. “Tell me what you have going on today,” you ask, hoping this will get him to wake up.
After a few moments of silence from him, he responds, albeit with his sleepy voice. “I have class later…” a pause, “then Mark wants to hang out tonight with everyone else there, too…”
“Are you going to go straight to his place after class?”
“...I dunno yet. But I’ll let you know what happens…” he mumbles. He’s clearly trying to wake himself up to talk to you, so you continue.
“After my classes, I think— no, I have to head to the library to work on that lab report I was telling you about,” you sigh.
“The one for Chemistry?”
“Yeah… I think I cried like five times thinking about it,” you laugh, worried for the upcoming deadline. “If you don’t end up heading straight to Mark’s after your classes, you can come with me and study.” You smile, knowing that when he’s with you you both get no work done.
He nods, and you pat his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”
He groans loudly and he grabs your arm to try and pull you down next to him. As much as your body aches to be back in bed with him, you abstain and grab his hand instead. He curls his fingers into yours and brings your hand to his lips to give you a soft kiss there. You return the favor and press a kiss onto his hand.
“Will it make you feel better if we shower together?”
He shoots straight out of bed.
After a shower (that may or may not have included some heavy touching) and a breakfast made by his wonderful girlfriend, he begins to make his way out of her apartment. He helps with the dishes by drying and putting them away, all while maintaining conversation with you. You talk about little things, how his professor might be his downfall, and how you might’ve finally found a main in Smash Bros.
Once you both finish getting ready, you take a quick picture of the both of you to upload on your Instagram story. “Are you trying to show everyone how lucky you are to have the best boyfriend ever in the world?” You scowl at him, and he makes a bunch of weird, high pitched noises and gets close to pinching your cheeks. You laugh and push him away.
“No, but seriously, I have to go now. I’ll see you later?” he asks.
“Yes, please be careful. Also text me your plans after class just so I know whether to wait on you?”
“Of course, Mom.”
“Hey!”
Haechan makes it to his only class for the day. He’s a bit early, so he finds a place to sit before his class starts. He scrolls aimlessly through his Instagram, which reminds him to look at the story you posted of the two of you. He finds it and stares lovingly at it. You look very cute, and he has to remind himself on how to repost another person's story onto his. He captions it with a “me and the gf 🫡” before posting it.
He notices his classmates slowly make their ways into class and decides to get up himself. Haechan takes his favorite spot in the auditorium, the middle back rows towards the edge of the aisle. Once he’s settled in, his infamous professor walks in with a smile on his face.
Fuck. Coding.
After an hour of hearing a new coding technique being taught badly, Haechan’s mind starts to wander. What else to think about other than his wonderful girlfriend who takes up all his thoughts. He could never get mad at you, though. Ever since meeting you, he thinks his life couldn’t get any better.
He remembers the day you met those three years ago. You were both freshmen in college, and you both had a mutual friend, Mark. You had apparently made friends with Mark through a shared Rhetoric class while Haechan has known Mark for most of his life. Apparently, Mark had taken you out to lunch after said shared class and Haechan was in the dining hall at the same time. He saw the top of Mark’s big head and made his way over.
What he didn’t seem to notice was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, sitting right across from Mark, munching on her food. The stupid shit he was about to say to Mark was cut off by the sight of the girl, at the sight of you, and he stupidly stood there. Mark catches onto this and invites Haechan to sit next to him, which he robotically takes the offer.
You introduce yourself to him and offer a handshake. Haechan leaves you hanging for a bit, suddenly all too aware he’s leaving you hanging but his hands are just too sweaty. He quickly wipes them on his jeans and shakes your hand, introducing himself successfully. He’s aware that he’s not the best at meeting new people, but he hopes he can push that aside in order to talk to you.
It works. He feels his shy demeanor melt away, becoming more at ease when he talks to you. Eventually, you both start hanging out without Mark, days spent together learning about one another. He thinks he might literally be in love. What would happen if he confessed? Would you say yes? Would you push him away? He thinks he wouldn’t be able to live without you by his side.
Spoiler alert. He does confess and you said yes. As if you would say anything else.
Interrupting his thoughts, he feels a buzz come from his phone. It’s Mark.
[markly] 12:20, im gonna head over to campus in a bit and get food
[markly] 12:20, after, im gonna be outside ur class waiting for u
[hae] 12:21, k 👍
Not exactly the person he wanted to hear from, but that will do. He remembers to text you the new plan so you can adjust accordingly.
[hae] 12:21, hey baby im going to marks right after class
[hae] 12:21, wish we couldve studied together
[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, aww dont worry abt it
[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, we both know that we wouldve gotten nothing done
[hae] 12:22, laughed at a message
[hae] 12:23, are you still in class baby?
[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, my prof cancelled class last min i was kinda pissed
[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, feeling a lot better now that my bf texted me
[my beloved 🫂] 12:24, more time to think abt u hehe
Haechan smiles at his phone and sends a quick love you before turning his phone off. He tries to pay attention, he really does, but his professor might be quite literally secretly planning on failing him. To save him from his dread, one more buzz from his phone. It’s you again.
[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, sorry for bothering u haechan
[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, cant stop thinking of u
Before Haechan can respond, one picture is sent. You are laying stomach down on your bed, but one thing sets him off. Your tits are almost on full display for him. Covered by a lacy bra that barely helps, he can’t help but feel himself twitch in his pants. Remembering that he is still in this Hell-like class, he quickly shuts off his phone and almost slams it against the table.
He doesn’t pick his phone back up for a good five minutes. He can feel the back of his neck get hot, his cheeks beginning to flush. He’s not sure what to do, so all he can respond to your picture is with a:
[hae] 12:36, fuck
[hae] 12:36, does my baby need me that badly?
He shoves his face in his hands and internally groans to himself. First of all, he’s still in class. Secondly, he can’t even go back and help you because Mark’s going to be waiting on him. Thirdly, he’s trying to will away his boner before he sees Mark to avoid any teasing. One more text is sent by you, something along the lines of i need u, and all he can do right now is ask you not to touch yourself without him there.
He uses that not only as a way to placate you, but himself as well. The only thing in his mind now is how soft and full your chest looked. How much he wants to grope and pull at your boobs. He can feel himself straining against his pants, begging to be touched, begging for you. He tries to focus on the monotonous voice of his professor droning on about how making one mistake can ruin a whole code. While the thoughts of you plague his mind, his professor seems to ruin every good fantasy he’s thought of.
To make matters worse, his professor keeps his students over class time, explaining that the homework must be done right away and be done perfectly. No exceptions. Once he’s dismissed, Haechan tries to see if he can find the nearest bathroom before Mark arrives. Unfortunately, Mark is sitting on one of the chairs outside the entrance, and spots Haechan easily.
“Why does it look like you died then came back to life?” Mark laughs in his face.
“Don’t ask me stupid shit,” Haechan grumbles.
After getting laughed at by Mark (which effectively ruins his mood), they make their way to his apartment. No one really makes a plan of when to hang out, so Mark just tells their friends if they could show up last minute. Everyone always does, because what else would college students rather do than on a Thursday night. Of course, Haechan would rather spend time with you, but he was coerced into hanging out (he’s lying, but it’s always going to be you over them).
After Mark sends a text to the groupchat saying that him and Haechan are already at the apartment, everyone makes their way on their own time. Renjun makes it exactly when he said he would make it, in about twenty minutes. Jeno and Jaemin make their way in a whopping thirty seven minutes with lazy smiles and snacks in their hands. There’s nothing like an unplanned hang out with your friends to talk about random shit.
“There’s a party tomorrow at one of the frats,” Jaemin slowly starts, eyebrows raising up and down.
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to drag us to a party that you want to go to,” Renjun groans.
“This should be good news for you, I don’t see any bitches on your radar,” Jeno says, with Renjun immediately motioning to hit him.
Everyone laughs at them, and Haechan points and claps at how red Renjun has gotten. Renjun sends glares towards everyone and splutters to come up with an argument for his own sake. “That isn’t even fair! Why am I the only one getting laughed at when Mark and Haechan are sitting right there!”
“I get bitches, I just keep it to myself,” Mark chimes.
“And I have a girlfriend,” Haechan proudly states.
Jaemin takes a jab at Haechan, “No offense to you, dude, but it still looks like you get no bitches.”
“Okay, first of all,” Haechan yells, and everyone groans before he starts again, “you are all jealous of me and the beautiful relationship I have with my beautiful girlfriend.”
Murmurs of sure and I guess fill the room and Haechan feels the need to defend you. He can’t let his friends tell him otherwise, not when you literally made him hard in class just a few hours ago.
“We fuck and love each other at the same time, so that means the both of us are better than all of you.”
They all stare at him in silence for what feels like forever. Haechan can only stand there and awkwardly stare back. It’s not that he feels awkward, but why are they making it awkward for him? It’s silent until one voice speaks up. Mark Lee.
“The only thing I can agree on from that whole thing is the fact that your girlfriend is hot. She has a nice pair of tits.” Before Haechan can process what was just said, Mark adds, “I would genuinely call her mommy.”
Instead of staring awkwardly, Haechan is now pointedly staring at Mark in shock and… anger? Firstly, Haechan didn’t even say you were hot in his mini speech but said beautiful instead. Secondly, why is he even staring at your tits? Those aren’t his to stare at? How long has he been thinking that? Lastly, who the hell gets a mommy kink from staring at a pair of tits?
In Haechan’s daze, everyone is either outwardly or inwardly agreeing with Mark. In Haechan’s peripheral, he sees Jeno shake Mark’s hand. Even Renjun is silently nodding along to Mark’s words. Jaemin stares at Haechan, which then turns into pointing and laughing at him.
“Guys. You… What the fuck is wrong with all of you? You all are horrible people, please tell me you’re joking.” Haechan feels quite literally batshit insane at how all his friends just agreed with one another that you’re hot as fuck. What the fuck. Are they all just staring at your tits without him knowing? Do you know? Do they all want to call you mommy?
Mark starts with a smile on his face, “I am so serious,” he stares up at Haechan with a look that feels like it’s challenging him, “I would call her mommy and let her do whatever she wants with me.”
At his words, Haechan feels something… different… settle at the bottom of his stomach. The thought of you doing whatever you wanted, pushing him to his limits, all while calling you mommy. He feels a weight on his chest and he slightly shivers at the thought. God, he thinks to himself, what would you even do to him?
Jeno laughs at Mark saying, “I didn’t take you to be so submissive.” Mark laughs along with him, “I’m not, but with someone as mommy as her, I would immediately be on my knees if she asked me to.”
Before Mark can say anything else regarding his girlfriend, Haechan cuts them all off with a That’s enough of talking about my girlfriend's tits for the night. He still has that heavy feeling looming inside of him, thoughts running rampant through his mind.
He couldn’t wait to be back at his apartment.
After toughing it out at the library, the Chemistry report was finished. It might not be your best work, but it’s better than nothing at all. Making your way to your apartment, you reminisce on the day you had. Your class was canceled, you had lunch, another boring class, then the library. You focus on the canceled class, which led you to a wonderful chat with your boyfriend.
No matter how long it’s been in your relationship, Haechan always reacts to a nude so nicely, so desperate. It spurs you on at how much he loves your body, how much he loves you, to the point where he gets so worked up that he needs you right there. Even though he couldn’t act on that today, seeing how reacted on text satisfied that need for you.
It surprises you how much he’s opened up to you over the course of time. When you had first seen him on that day you had lunch with Mark, he seemed shy. Mark had briefly talked about him before, how he was always screaming in his ear, so seeing him like that confused you. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and when you shook hands, they were clammy.
You knew from that point on you had to have him for yourself. You wanted to see his shy demeanor melt away while he talked to you. Over time, he showed how comfortable he was with you by clinging on to your side, taking you out to lunch, and making a playlist of songs that reminded him of you. This only solidified how badly you needed him.
And you got him. Through a rushed confession, he explained how he didn’t want to ruin what you both had but he had to tell you how he felt. You immediately told him you felt the same way, and the rest was history. You know him like the back of your hand, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.
He treats you well, like a friend, but with love that never seems to leave. You gave him all that you had, all your love, your body, your mind. He gives you back everything tenfold, and he tells you there could never be a time where he doesn’t love you. Those words show in everything he does with you.
Especially the nights with hushed whispers for only you to hear. Where he takes his time with you, taking off your clothes in a pace that makes sense to him. He kisses you softly, his body on top of yours. I love you, he says. You moan out as he drags his kisses down to your jawline, sucking onto a sensitive spot. He continues to trail down your body with his lips, all while hearing you whine out for him.
“Haechan-” your whimper cuts you off, “please don’t tease me.”
He’s down by your navel when he chuckles at you. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” He nuzzles his nose to the seat of your panties, your smell taking the last of his self control. “My pretty baby will let me eat her out, won’t she?”
Who are you to deny him when he asks so nicely?
Your phone dings once you make it home. A text from Haechan.
[hae] 11:08, i’m making it back to my place soon
[my beloved 🫂] 11:08, i just got back to mine too
[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, hopefully i can see u tomorrow
[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, rest up
[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, i have all day tomorrow to spend w you
[hae] 11:09, yes ma’am 🫡
[hae] 11:10, love you baby
You send a quick voice message saying Love you too, and please go to sleep early.
[hae] 11:11, hae loved a message.
So he didn’t go to sleep like you had asked him to. On the car ride back that Jeno had offered him, he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. You. Specifically, you on top of him, all while he would be reaching out to you, begging for you.
He’s not even quite sure what a mommy kink entails. It’s not that he’s never heard of it- being chronically online almost forces him to hear that word- he’s just not sure what else you do with a mommy kink. He knows he would be submissive and that he would call you mommy, but what else is there to it?
That’s why once he says goodnight to Jeno after dropping him off at his apartment complex, he doesn’t feel guilty for being curious over such a thing. He doesn’t feel guilty when he rushes to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop and ripping off his shirt. He doesn’t feel guilty in finding a pornsite, typing in mommy in the search bar. He doesn’t feel guilty scrolling through all the videos, feeling himself get hard.
He settles for a video titled, Mommy Uses Her Sweet Boy Until He Cries. He watches the video, a man with his arms tied to the bed. He begins grinding his hand against the front of his sweats, a woman walks in and starts giving the man a handjob. He pushes his sweats down hastily, whines and whimpers fill the room, his mommy taking what’s hers. Haechan releases himself from the confines of boxers, his neediness beginning to hurt him.
After a while, the video plays forgotten in the background. Haechan is lost in his own thoughts. He wants you to treat him how he usually treats you. Thoughts of you here, in between his thighs, touching him in a way he can’t imagine. As much as he wishes that was real, it wasn't. He’s stuck in his room, pathetically getting himself off to a kink that was just introduced to him.
He can feel his thoughts melt away, entering a headspace he has never dealt with before. He’s never felt this sensitive while getting himself off. His fist tightens around his tip, which causes him to whimper out. He knew he was more vocal than other people in bed, but he realizes tonight takes the cake. He’s leaking precum, his cock begging to be touched once more.
He manages to open his eyes and refocus on the video. The man in question is currently being edged before the woman brings her hand up to his nipple to toy with him, to which Haechan outwardly moans at the sight. Haechan’s own hand reaches up to his chest and hesitantly pulls at his own nipple. Not realizing how sensitive he could be, Haechan cums on the spot.
Haechan feels as though he can see himself from the outside of his body in a third person view. The image of him, with spurts of his cum across his stomach, one hand tweaking his nipple and the other going to covering his mouth is engrained at the back of his head. If he thinks hard enough, he can feel you sitting atop his thighs doing all this for him, whispering how good he’s been into his ear, how he must’ve been so eager and desperate in order to cum that fast.
After a few minutes of laying in that spot, ears ringing, harsh breaths evening out, he opens his eyes and thinks. Is he… supposed to tell you what he just did? You both never really talked about stuff like this before, but he can’t imagine just springing this on to you. He cringes at the thought, and hesitantly pulls out his phone. He opens up your messages, and he twiddles his thumbs at the side of his phone.
He looks over to his laptop, the video he had been playing had now ended, the video replaying in his head. He bites the inside of his cheek as he types out to you, deleting the message before retyping it again.
[hae] 12:48, can i ask you something?
The next morning, Haechan wakes up hot and sweaty. He’s not quite sure why, not until he can feel himself throbbing in his boxers. With that in mind, he remembers the dream he had containing the both of you. He can’t remember all the details, something along the lines of you on top of him, taking everything you needed from him. Whatever it was, Haechan feels the need to get off again to the thought of you.
He does. The thought of your tits in his face all while getting a handjob was enough to quickly get him off. After washing up, he can feel his face getting hot. He hasn’t been this shy at the thought of you since you both first met. Before he can get too into his thoughts, he remembers that he texted you last night. He may have subtly (read: not at all subtle) asked what you thought of a mommy kink. He doesn’t want to read back the texts, knowing that his messages were all jumbled, adrenaline and giddiness written all over them.
He tries not to get too excited at the thought of it. He scrolls through Instagram to distract himself, but one of your friends just posted a picture of the both of you, your pretty face and tits right there for him to look at. He bites his lips, nasty thoughts of you filling his head. He goes to start up one of his games, but ends up staring at the starting screen. All of his thoughts lead back to you. He realizes he's at his breaking point when he's literally waiting for a message from you.
After laying in bed for an hour straight, you finally decide to get up. Fridays are the days you get to relax, meet up with your boyfriend, and do whatever you both want without worrying about classes. You had mutually agreed at the start of the semester to spend Fridays together because both of your schedules allowed for it. There was never a day you weren’t excited for Fridays to come, always happy to see your boyfriend.
Before you actually get up, you do a quick scan of all your apps. On Instagram, you see that your friend has posted a picture of the two of you, the one that you happened to look super good in. You see that Haechan has already liked the picture, even before you had seen it. You like the post and turn your phone off in order to go and get ready for the day.
You’re not quite sure what it is today, but you feel good. You feel like you could conquer the world with how you look and feel. Maybe it was because of the finished lab report, or maybe just the fact that you’ll be seeing your boyfriend today. If he doesn’t immediately fall to his knees and tell you that you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, then there has to be something wrong.
Speaking of Haechan, you remember waking up to one of his texts last night. He had randomly asked about a kink, a very specific one at that. A mommy kink. When you got his first text, you were scared, heart pounding in your chest from such an ominous message so late into the night.
[my beloved 🫂] 01:02, what happened? i was asleep im so sorry
[hae] 01:02, nothing bad dont worry baby
[hae] 01:03, i was just thinking
There was a long pause between his texts. Even if he said that there was nothing to worry about, you can’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking.
[my beloved 🫂] 01:14, baby youre scaring me please just tell me what you wanted to ask
[hae] 01:16, i got home and i couldnt stop thinking about you
[hae] 01:16, i wanted to ask about something i might be interested in
[hae] 01:16, would you be interested in dominating me?
[hae] 01:16, and me calling you mommy?
You stare at your screen, letting out the breath that you were holding in. On one hand, your boyfriend did not want to break up with you, which came from quickly assuming the worst. But on the other hand… what?
You weren’t unfamiliar with how submissive men work. Before you met Haechan, you watched your fair share of porn. While most of the contents included what would be considered “vanilla” sex, there were some femdom videos that you watched. You always wondered how it would feel to have someone crying under you, the image of Haechan popping up in your head when you did.
He must have assumed that the pause in your texting was a bad sign, quickly backtracking and apologizing. It was cute, how embarrassed he got as he tried to change the subject. You can imagine him squirming around in bed, trying to push back his fantasies of you while texting. You interrupt him.
[my beloved 🫂] 01:24, i wouldnt mind.
Rereading your texts, you realize how badly you need to see him again.
You text him asking if you should both meet up. You both agree on meeting up in the evening in order to get take-out together, spending the rest of the night in each other's presence. There’s nothing more than you could ask for besides being there besides him, the comfort of his presence bringing you more peace than anything else could.
Even though you were ready for a nice night with him, you prepared yourself. The image of your boyfriend thinking of you, being so interested in being submissive, makes your heart beat a little faster. You bite your lip, wanting to see your boyfriend fall apart under you, wanting to hear his cries. Maybe Haechan has finally rubbed off on you, and you smile at the thought of it.
You spend the rest of the day cleaning up around your apartment, waiting for your boyfriend’s arrival.
Before the sun fully sets, Haechan alerts you that he’s outside. You trot to the door with a smile on your face. It feels like forever since you had last seen him (you fully know it’s been less than a day). When you open the door for him, he’s standing there, gawking at you. You see that his cheeks are lightly dusted pink, his mouth trying to form some words.
When you go to hug him, he feels stiff against your own body before deciding to hug you back. Though you knew that he might act a little different, starting from the picture you sent him to the mommy kink confession, but you didn’t think he’d be like this. It’s nice to see him like this again, and as you move to press a kiss to his cheek, he turns redder.
You both settle in and sit next to each other on your couch. He’s properly talking to you now, but you can see how he’s still a little nervous. In a way, it reminds you of how he acted when you both first met. Shy looks and responses, scratching at his neck, and fidgeting with his hands. You go to hold his hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it, causing him to laugh softly.
You’re not sure if bringing up the texts last night would be any good, you think it’d be better for him to bring it up when he’s comfortable. You don’t want to rush him into anything. Even if you can see how he stares at your lips and chest too hard, you don’t want to start anything he isn’t ready for. You both were here for something else, anyways: food.
“Instead of going to a restaurant, do you want to just go to the convenience store down the street? I’m feeling a little lazy.” Haechan coos at you and presses a kiss to your cheek. You both gather your things to make the small trip to and from. You lock your door and turn to look at Haechan as he reachesfor your hand and holds it. You grin at him, pressing yourself into his side as you walk down the slightly lit up street.
The convenience store is a short trip, maybe only a five minute walk from your apartment. You have a small conversation on your way there over how your day was, his hand still intertwined with yours. But with a stroke of luck, you manage to meet you and Haechan’s mutual friend, Mark Lee. You’re pretty sure Haechan notices him first, and he signals to you of his presence by squeezing your hand tighter.
You look up, and there’s Mark with a smile on his face, waving at the both of you. What you miss though is Haechan’s reaction to him and how Mark looks at you. Before Haechan greets Mark, he lets go of your hand and opts to wrap his arm around your waist. You snuggle into him, and you can hear him call out to his friend.
“Hey guys!” Mark says with a teasing smile on his face, “Feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” and you laugh at him. It’s rare that you see Mark on his own without a friend by his side, specifically, your boyfriend. You and Mark don’t hang out alone as much as you used to, but you still consider him a close friend. After all, he was the one who introduced you to Haechan.
After a few words are exchanged, there’s a pause in conversation that you can’t quite decipher. You see Haechan and Mark eyeing each other, sending challenging looks to one another.
“Alright!” you clap, “Me and Haechan have some cheap food to buy and eat, so we’. See you soon, Markie!” You pat Mark’s shoulder as you walk away and Haechan just nods him off.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing… but since when did you call him Markie?”
You roll your eyes.
While eating your food, you had asked Haechan if Mark had finally bothered him back. He just laughed and said He has nothing on me! Allegedly, Haechan had beaten Mark too mamy times at Mario Kart to the point where they had a full on argument over how Haechan was somehow cheating. You let out a confused laugh at his words, and Haechan can only say, “The world still hasn’t realized I’m just too good at everything.”
You flick his forehead.
“So you weren’t being all shy because of the picture I sent yesterday? Or even what you texted me last night…?” you tease, sensing how he’s more comfortable. He covers his face with one hand while slight embarrassment takes over. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you can sense a shift in his demeanor as he takes in your words. He nods his head, sliding his tongue along the inside of his cheek.
You finish eating and a movie is put on. The movie is fine, but you’re more focused on Haechan. Though you wanted to take things slow, you can’t help but stare at him. You don’t necessarily do anything new, but you just need him close to you right now.
You tuck yourself to his side, burying your head into his shoulder. Being a seemingly innocent action, he gladly accepts your touch. Minutes pass, and he hasn’t moved to do anything besides moving his arm to hold you by the waist. Your neediness seems to take over, as you move your hand to his upper thigh. You can feel him jump ever so slightly, a feeling of satisfaction coursing through you.
Your thumb rubs the inner part of his thigh, and you feel his fingers twitch at your side. You know he gets riled up with needy touches, you’re just trying to see if he wants to do anything tonight. You place light kisses along his neck, a soft whine escaping your lips, begging him to do something.
Clearly having enough of your antics, he grabs you by the hips and places you on top of his thighs. His face is flushed, his eyes shyly looking up at yours. Despite all the times you’ve both been in this position before, it feels like the first. A shy, yet expectant Haechan under you, waiting for you to make a move.
You move to press kisses along the moles on his cheeks, Haechan’s eyes fluttering shut and the feeling of your soft lips on his skin. His hands grip tightly on your hips, encouraging you to continue. You move to the middle of his collarbones, a wet kiss pressed onto the mole there. You lick a stripe up to the mole on his neck, and he lets out a choked moan.
You sit back up, looking down to see his face. He looks at you with a look you haven’t quite seen before. He looks… desperate. Not that he hasn’t been desperate to fuck you before, but there’s a different meaning behind his eyes and his touch. You’re almost reminded of yourself, how you might look under him, begging him to fuck you already, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
“We don’t have to do anything…” you whisper out, scared to break the tension you’ve created. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shifts under you, and you feel his erection press into your thigh. You giggle at him, and he shuts his eyes, groaning to himself. He finally moves, suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you directly on top of his clothed cock.
“Been needing you all day,” he stifles a moan when he feels you grind yourself onto him, “wanna feel you, wanna show everyone that you’re mine.” You whine out his name and he pulls you into a kiss. It’s messy, tongues sloppily moving against each other. Drool spills past your lips, and Haechan moves to lick it right back up. Your hands move to grip on his shoulders, needing to be grounded.
You need him inside of you already. You’re sure you’ve stained his sweatpants already, feeling yourself dripping with every motion. He seems too focused on what’s happening now though, feeling too sensitive with how much he’s twitching under you. Your hands move up to his hair to get him to get him to refocus, and he lets out a small whimper. You almost miss it.
He looks up at you like you were the one who made that noise. You laugh hard, “So shy,” his hips buck up, “it’s almost like the first time we had sex again.”
You’re sitting on top of him, laughing about how pathetic he looks right now. As much as he wants to laugh it off and move onto the actual fucking, he feels himself become embarrassingly close to cumming. Thoughts of the night before flood into his head, the image of you sweetly whispering in his ear saying how much you want to fuck him is getting to him.
You look almost identical to how you looked in his head last night, and he can feel himself throbbing in his sweats. It all becomes too much too fast, and he quickly apologizes and moves you off of him. You stare incredulously at the sight of him rushing to your bathroom. You hope you didn’t push things too far, letting him be alone before you ask any questions.
He feels so lightheaded, a heavy weight placed onto his chest. You laughed at him, made him feel so small and pathetic to the point where he could’ve cum in his pants right there. Reminding himself of what he did last night, he didn’t realize that he’d get a humiliation kink from it too. He wishes you could wrap your hand around his cock and laugh about how perverted he is from getting off to something like that. He can only wish.
For now, all he can think about is getting himself off before he can face you again. In all honesty, he was fighting himself from getting hard as soon as he saw you. You looked good today, and all the image of your chest flashed through his mind all day. How much he wanted to just take you into your room, push you onto your bed, and fuck you until you cry for him to stop.
Another part of him wishes for the opposite. He can’t help but think of you being the one making him cry. He wants to be under you, feel how your body rides him until he’s the one begging you to stop. These fantasies don’t help his throbbing cock. Despite you being seated in the other room, he figures the only thing he can do now is get himself off pathetically in your restroom.
He slides down his sweats to his midthigh, too impatient and embarrassed to go any further. The front of his boxers are wet from his dripping tip, he squeezes himself through his boxers, a soft whine trying to escape his lips. Realizing you’re still in the other room, he uses his free hand to cover up his mouth. Deciding he probably shouldn’t tease himself, he pulls down his boxers.
His dick slaps against his abdomen, flushed and dripping at the tip. He wraps a hand around the base and begins moving. He feels too sensitive just from the feeling of you on top of him, dangerously close already. His hips begin to buck against his hand, everything feeling like too much and not enough. If he could, he’d ask you to come in and help him cum.
The thought of a teasing smile adorning your face makes a strangled moan come out of his mouth, almost too loud. He can hear you get up from your couch, making your way to your room. He continues to fist his cock, drool slipping out of his mouth and smearing messily against his palm. He feels like a pervert right now, fucking his hand in your restroom.
As if he couldn’t be even more embarrassed, he swears that you’ve stopped in front of your restroom door. The sound of whimpers and soft cries worrying you to where you have to check in on him. He wonders if you’ve put your ear to the door, wonders if you can hear the sounds of him fisting his cock. He can’t help but think if you would call him pathetic, tell him how much he should be lucky that you’re willing to fuck him.
A low moan escapes past his lips and he can hear you gasp on the other side. He hears you run to your room, softly closing the door. You were listening. His body feels numb and strained at the same time. Every muscle tensing, his dick twitching in his palm, begging for release. He imagines you in your room, your thighs squeezing together, getting ready to get yourself off to the sound of your boyfriend getting himself off like a loser.
A familiar feeling sets at the bottom of his stomach, mind going blank from his incoming orgasm. Only thoughts of you fill his mind, his pretty girlfriend being so clueless over his desires. He wonders if you would let him call you mommy right now. At the thought, his body becomes undone. Cum spurts from his tip, shooting all over his stomach and chest. His hand continues to move until it feels too much, having to forcibly stop himself.
He takes a few breaths. He feels gross and sweaty, looking down at himself to see the mess he’s made. He grabs some toilet paper and cleans up his cum. He moves to wash his hands, looking at himself in your mirror. He looks fucked out. His face still flushed, eyes looking droopy. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to approach this, not sure if you both should just talk about it.
All he can do now is sigh to himself, ready to face what you might ask him. He needs to decide on whether he should tell you everything he’s done or push it off until later.
Fuck Mark Lee.
You can hear your bathroom door unclick, nervousness suddenly taking over your body. Haechan must be finished with… what he was doing. You’re not really sure how to feel about it. You know what he was probably thinking of, but you’re not sure why he couldn’t just do it with you. You never told him no, but he was forcibly keeping it from you.
You hear him slowly walk to your door, stopping right before the entrance. After a few seconds, he opens it, not meeting your eyes. You quietly call out his name, which he hesitantly looks up at you. He looks a little shocked, a small blush spreading across his face. You pat a spot next to you on your bed, beckoning him over. He follows, placing himself quite awkwardly next to you.
“Are you… okay?” You ask him.
“I’m fine, I just needed a moment to myself.” He's not looking at you, instead putting his attention to the fingers he’s picking at.
You grab his hand, refocusing his attention on you, “I heard you, in the restroom,” his eyes widen a little, “I thought you were hurt, but I don’t think that’s what you were doing.” You trail off, waiting for him to try to piece together your thoughts. When he gives you a confused look, you continue, “If I was pushing you too hard, or- or rushing you into doing something you weren’t ready for, I’m sorry.”
Once Haechan puts together what you’re trying to say, he immediately denies it. “It really isn’t because of you! You haven’t done anything wrong,” he shouts, “it’s just… I…” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He gives you one last look before he rushes out, “I just didn’t wanna cum too fast in front of you.”
He shuts his eyes in embarrassment, putting his head in his hands in order to shield himself from you. You have to forcefully stop yourself from laughing out loud. You carefully remove his hands from his face, getting him to look at you once more. You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing along the moles on his cheek. He nuzzles softly into your touch, you can feel the warmth from his face seep into your hands.
“You don’t have to feel embarrassed,” you chuckle, “it makes me feel good knowing that you found me that sexy.”
He groans when he removes his face from you, “I almost came in my pants because of you,” he places a soft kiss to your thumb, “you did things to me that you don’t even know.”
“Care to tell me what I did to get you so worked up?” You smile, faking innocence in order to hear what your boyfriend thinks about you.
Haechan is silent for a few moments, clearly trying to bring his thoughts together. You try to figure it out yourself. There was the picture, the texts, your teasing. Maybe it had something to do with that interaction with Mark that you didn’t quite understand. Despite all these ideas you’ve come up with, you’re not ready for what he says to you.
“Liked it when… I liked it when you laughed at me.” He mumbles out.
You try not to gawk at him, but it’s damn near impossible to hear your boyfriend tell you that he liked it when you laughed at him. During sex. You laughed at him over how shy he looked, and he liked it? It’s not a mommy kink, but you can assume that’s where it definetly came from.
“Can you explain… what you mean a little more?” You ask.
“Do you want the story in full detail or a quick summary?” He laughs dryly, clearly trying to push his embarrassment away.
“Do a quick summary for me and I’ll ask some questions at the end.” You answer, sitting up a little more straight.
He sighs, becoming a bit more serious with the conversation. After a few breaths, how sort of lied earlier, something did happen between him and Mark. Mark said something about you which made Haechan think differently. He reiterates how these were really good thoughts, but he was just pissed because Mark thought it first. “Also why is he thinking about you when you’re my girlfriend. Tell me he wasn’t clearly trying to get with you before I met you.”
You roll your eyes, Haechan deciding to focus on the smaller issue. You do like seeing him jealous though, especially since this was his own best friend. You’ll pocket that for later though, refocusing on the bigger issue.
“What exactly did he say about me that made you come to your big conclusion?”
At your words, Haechan begins to blush again. He really is acting like how he did at the beginning of your relationship, you think. He’s not really looking at you, and you try to reassure him that he doesn’t have to tell you if he’s not comfortable. This clearly has been bothering him all day, and you assume that this has to deal with his confession from earlier.
“He just… he said that… that he would be submissive if he were with you. He said he’d call you… mommy.” He mumbled the words near the end, but you heard him clearly.
In a hypothetical world where Mark was dating you, he would let you dominate him. So Haechan, probably pissed that Mark was thinking that, thought of himself in that position, and also liked it? You feel warmth spread through your body, thoughts begin to fill your head.
You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Haechan takes it as a sign of disgust, immediately backtracking. “I know it seems kinda weird, and I’m not saying that we have to do it now! I just-”
You cut him off, “Why didn’t you tell me how badly you wanted it?” He gapes at you, and you’re honestly quite surprised at your own words. You’re not sure what persona takes over you, but you’re filled with the desire to see this different side to your boyfriend.
Remembering a conversation before you started dating Haechan, before you both even hung out alone together, Mark had told you something about Haechan. At the time, it didn’t seem like it would be too important to your relationship, but now, you might see what Mark meant.
“Did you know that Haechan likes it when girls are mean to him?”
You laugh out at Mark’s words, “Why are you airing out his business to me?”
“It’s not not important! It’s just, like, you need to keep this in mind when you talk to him.”
“What are you saying?” You raise an eyebrow at him, sensing what his words mean in regards to you and Haechan’s relationship.
“Well, you’re the meanest person I know, so that means you and Haechan are meant to be together!”
He’s laughing at you, and you playfully yell at him to stop, shoving him forwards. You feel your face heat up before entering the dining hall, wondering if Haechan told Mark that he likes the way you speak to him. You can feel something stir inside you.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that I didn’t know if you-”
“Are you hard?” You cut him off, laughing at how he cowers in front of you. He tries considerably hard to conceal the small whimper that threatens to fall from his mouth, but it slips out. You hear it and smile sweetly at him, “Do you need help with that?”
He nods vigorously and you go to sit comfortably on his lap. He immediately wraps his arms over the expanse of your back, arms moving wildly in order to touch every part of you. You first place a chaste kiss to his lips, then you begin to slowly kiss him. Although he tries to keep up with the slow pace, you can practically feel how impatient he gets. His tongue traces every corner of your mouth, and you can feel drool slipping down past your lips.
When you have to forcibly pull him away from you, there’s a line of spit connecting your bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. You bring a thumb to his mouth to clean him up, giggling at how he looks at you with a daze in his eyes. While you’ve seen your boyfriend look like this before, it has never been quite like this. You set the pace, you have the control, you’re the more dominant one.
“I can feel how hard you are, just from some kissing…” he moans out at your words and you slowly begin to grind yourself on him. His hands instinctively move to grab your hips in order to set the pace, but you pull his hands off of you. “That’s not how it goes. Not tonight.”
He lets out a shaky breath, affected by both your actions and your words. It was somehow so easy for you to slip into this position, while he was the one struggling to tell you what he wanted. The feeling of you resuming to grind down on his dick causes him to whine out, trying to keep his hands at his sides. It feels so different, so messy, so good.
It’s not like you both haven’t been in this position before, but Haechan can feel that he’s extra sensitive tonight. Despite how he came multiple times last night and once more in the morning, everything always feels better when you’re there to help him.
He hears you whispering in his ear, licking stripes onto his throat. Your hands at some point made their way under his shirt, now lightly making scratches over his abdomen. With all of this combined, he feels himself coming close to the edge. He tries to lightly call out your name, but only small whimpers come out.
You look up at him, “What is it?” You already know that he’s about to cum, his hips subconsciously bucking up into you. The drag of his cock against your panties sends shivers up his spine. He can feel how wet you are, dripping through your underwear and letting him grind easier into you. You smile at him and reach for his hands, guiding them under your shirt and to your boobs. Finally allowing him to touch, he recreates all the images from his head last night.
As if he were a depraved man, he licks all over your chest, not caring how messy it gets. You moan out to him, and he gives you everything you want. You look down at him, his hair ruffled up and his eyes closed, suckling on your skin. He’s rutting into you helplessly, fully willing to cum just like this.
You have other plans though. So when he calls out your name in a high-pitched whimper, you pull yourself off of him. He immediately groans, hands moving to pull you back on his aching cock, but you push him down onto your bed. He looks so fucked out, and all that he’s gotten was a few touched. You smile at him, moving towards him to slowly pull off his sweatpants.
You’ve left him in his boxers, his cock straining heavily against them. You press a kiss to his clothed tip before moving up his body, right back up to his pretty face. His round eyes look up at yours, pupils blown out with lust. You smile down at him, your hand moving to hold his warm cheek. He nuzzles into it while you sneak your other hand down to lightly touch his cock
He lets out a shaky breath, shoving his head further into the pillows. You softly call him, and he focuses back on you. You move to kiss him slowly, kissing him deeply as your hand palms over his cock. You can feel him twitching in your hold, can feel how he pants against your lips. You press into his tip, feeling the patch of precum that’s formed as you scoff at him. He laughs, but is cut off when you go down to his balls.
His hips fuck up into nothing, chasing any stimulation. He’s moaning into your mouth, becoming needier with your barely there touches. He whines out, “N-need more, need you to touch me more.”
“But I already am? I’m touching you, aren’t I?
He nods quickly, “I know, but I just- I need to feel you…”
“My poor baby,” a quiet whimper follows, “I think you should just take what you get.” Your fingers move to circle tightly around his leaking tip, which he takes as a sign to begin humping against your hand. He’s quick, trying to quickly get off from all your teasing. He’s letting out small moans, embarrassed with how good it feels.
You can feel how close he is, his eyes shut, hand gripped onto your side as he incessantly fucks into your hand. He’s whining your name, begging for more, begging for you. With a smile on your face, you pull your hand away from him, watching in awe at how he cries out while fucking his hips in the air. You laugh out increduously, and Haechan has to forcibly grip himself at his base in order to stop himself from cumming right there.
“Can’t believe I get to see you like this… never thought that you’d be into something this dirty before.”
He cries out, shaking his head, “I’m a good boy, wanna be a good boy for you.”
You squeeze your thighs together, trying to help the ache you feel. You shush him, pressing soft kisses onto his lips as he moves to grind against your thigh. You press up into him and you can feel how hard he grinds into you, savoring the friction. He’s lost in pleasure, and you can tell by how his tongue moves lazily against you, cock searching for any relief.
Your hand slips under his boxers, finally touching him like he wants. He softly thanks you, bucking his hips up against the tight hold you have on him. Your thumb circles his tip, spreading his precum around to help the glide of your hand. He whines out, feeling too sensitive from being edged. “Slow down, Haechan.”
He just nods, not really hearing your words. His hips move in time with your movements. Eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, only thinking about the softness of your hand against him. He needs more, needs to feel all of you on him. He moves to grab your hand, moving it to his chest. He looks at you with hooded eyes, telling you everything you need to know.
You’ve always known how sensitive his chest was, but before you could ever do anything, he’d swat your hands away with a nervous laugh. Now, being here, you circle his nipple, indulging in how he twitches in your hold, body shivering against the feeling. “So sensitive, you’d probably be happy cumming like this, right?”
He nods, subtly asking for more as he arches his chest into you, begging for your touch. You pinch his nipple and roll it around your fingers, Haechan shoving his head into your shoulders to hide the embarrassingly loud whimpers coming out of him. He’s leaking all over your hand, slick sounds coming from where you’re jerking him off. “Are you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”
He’s far gone, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he helplessly fucks your fist. He’s so desperate, right now, taking so much from you when you’re giving him so little. You realize that this is what he’s been wanting all day, waiting for you to put him in his place. His hips begin to stutter against you, and you know he’s about to cum. In awe, you whisper out to him, “Are you gonna cum for mommy?”
He lets out a loud whimper, not even waiting for you to give him permission to cum.
You feel spurts of his cum all over your hand, how he bucks into your fist to ride out his orgasm. You help him, gliding your hand over his length until he whines out from the overstimulation. You chuckle as you pull your cum-covered hand away. Haechan watches in interest as you bring your hand to your mouth, licking up his cum from your fingers and swallowing. He groans before pulling you into one last kiss, tasting his cum on your tongue.
You both lay in your bed, your hands caressing his back as he lets out soft breaths against you, pressing light kisses to your shoulder. You both lay there, enjoying the warmth that your bodies are emanating. His breaths are getting deeper, slowly getting lulled to sleep by your touches. You press a kiss to the top of his head, “You did so well for me, Haechan.”
You can feel him smile against your skin as he falls asleep.
There’s been tension in the air.
Ever since the other night, you haven’t been able to keep yourself away from Haechan. No one’s bothered to make a move since then, the only thing he’s offered you are heavy stares and subtle kisses. Even though you’re supposed to be the one dominating him, it feels more like you’re waiting on him. You wonder if all he needed was one fix of you catering to his thoughts.
You didn’t want to beg him to let him dominate you, it should be the other way around. You aren’t sure how to approach it, not even sure how Haechan managed to tell you. It’s not embarrassing, but you don’t want to do something he doesn’t want to do anymore. If he really wanted it, he would’ve told you already.
Throughout the week, you try to signal to him that you’re ready, that you’re just waiting on him. You press kisses along his shoulder while he’s gaming, you rub against him while you’re out, you sit on his lap, hoping for something.
You don’t get it, and you’re sure at this point, you never will.
It isn’t until one day you’re getting ready to go out and eat with him, but this time, Mark has somehow made his way into your plans. You’re not upset with it, but Haechan was trying to usher you away from him. He tried saying that Mark was going to take your food while he wasn’t looking, and would try to make you pay for him, but you roll your eyes at him. Haechan is being too dramatic, but you remember the conversation they had the other night.
He’s jealous. You think you might use his jealousy today to benefit the both of you.
When you eventually meet up with Mark, Haechan has you tightly around his side, puffing out his chest. Mark doesn’t miss the hold he has on you, ignoring it to instead focus on greeting the both of you.
If Haechan never told you about their conversation, you would’ve missed the energy between the both of them. It’s at this point where you realize that the weird stares they sent each other a few nights ago match the ones they’re doing now. They’re challenging each other, Haechan making sure Mark won’t do anything out of line. Mark eventually breaks eye contact with him, turning to look at you instead.
“Just wanted to get some food with you guys. I haven’t hung out with you in such a long time,” Mark grins.
“If it weren’t for Haechan, I would still be going out to lunch with you,” you tease, trying to get a reaction out of Haechan. It works, hearing him grumble out intelligible words as he tries to get you both moving. You’re sure Mark wouldn’t actually do anything to impose on you and Haechan’s relationship, probably just enjoying getting back at his friend after so many years.
It doesn’t feel like that to Haechan though. He can feel his blood boiling watching Mark take all your attention away at the diner. Even if you’re seated right there next to Haechan, all your attention is on Mark, sitting right across from you. He doesn’t know what to do, feeling frustrated that your eyes aren’t on him, your hands not touching him, your mouth on his-
Okay. He has to stop his mind from going in too deep too fast. He tries for about a good five seconds before giving up, all the tension from this week suddenly piling up and becoming too much for him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one pinning you to the bed or the other way around, he just needs you right now. If only Mark wasn’t here, he would’ve dragged you all the way back to your apartment already.
But he can’t, not with Mark practically taking you away from him at this point. All he can do is shove the last of his food in his mouth as he thinks of what to do. He can’t just tell you he’s horny in front of his literal best friend, so the best he can do is place a hand on your thigh. You’re not phased though, conversation still flowing between you and Mark. He takes out his phone, pretending to mindlessly scroll while he rubs his thumb on your inner thigh.
You don’t seem to mind until his hand trails up higher, your hand suddenly wrapping around his wrist, stopping his trail. You shoot him a quick look, and Haechan sends a smile your way. Your hand moves away while Haechan stares at his still left on your thigh. He gives it a squeeze, feeling how your thigh twitches under his hold. He bites his lips, trying not to get too hasty.
He wants to see how far he can push you until you break, until you pull your attention away from Mark and onto him. He realizes where your line is when he grabs your hand and places it onto his bulge. You push your hand away, swatting at his hands that chase yours. You can see how Mark gives you both a confused look, and all you can do is send him an annoyed smile as you fight with Haechan under the table.
You lean into his ear, whispering, “Do that again and I’ll leave you to cum by yourself tonight.”
Haechan immediately sits up straight.
Mark knows none the wiser of what you just said to Haechan, instead laughing at how he’s shut up so fast. You continue talking with Mark as Haechan sits there quietly, his cock hard and straining against his jeans.
Before Haechan knows it, he’s shoved against your apartment door as you kiss him, hands threaded in his hair as he whines out to you. “Shouldn’t even be doing this to you,” you murmur against his skin, “you were being so bad earlier.”
“I would’ve been nice if it weren’t for Mark taking away all your attention,” he huffs out, already out of breath from your ministrations.
So that’s what this is all about, you think. You pull lightly on his hair as you suckle on the mole of his neck, earning a small whimper. The shy and embarrassed Haechan from before is gone, taken over by a desperate and needy Haechan. His hands find your hips, groping at the flesh as he takes what you give him. “Needed you so bad, you don’t even know.”
“I could tell, you were practically begging me to fuck you in the diner.” He bats his eyes at you, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on his bulge again. You smile sweetly at him, lightly tracing the outline of his cock through his pants. His head slumps on your shoulder, falling apart immediately with the light touches you give him. You tease his clothed tip, his hips rutting into your hand to chase more pleasure.
You leave your hand for him to hump against, letting himself fall apart over you. You can feel a small patch of precum form on his pants, swirling your thumb around his tip as he moans out to you. He’s getting to the edge too fast, “Need you to- fuck, mommy, need you to-”
You cut him off quickly, “What was that?”
He looks at you with wide eyes, face flushed and panting as he tries to backtrack. His hands slip from your body as he steps back, trying to explain himself as if you both didn’t already talk about it. You grab his hips and push them flush to yours, “What did you call me, baby?”
Haechan whimpers at the petname, his lips messily pressing against yours as he moans into your mouth. He slots a leg in the middle of your thighs, his hard cock pressing into your upper thigh. “Please, mommy, please fuck me already.”
His neediness is getting to you, feeling his cock hump against your thigh. His voice sounds like he’s almost crying, just from light touching and dry humping. You can feel your own body go hot, moving your thigh up to press harder into his cock. He whimpers out a thank you as he presses harder against you, tongue intertwining with yours.
As much as it’s nice to see him fall apart like this, you’d much rather see him like this when he’s actually inside of you. You move to pry him off of you, ignoring his whines in order to pull him into your bedroom. He messily slips his pants off as he moves to the bed, laying back against your pillows as you watch him. You peel off your shirt and bottoms, sitting at the foot of the bed, eyeing your boyfriend.
You realize how much you like seeing him like this. He looks so soft, so pliant under your control despite how bratty he was being earlier. You can only assume he’s like this because of how much he loves you, your heart pounding in your chest at the realization. You send a small smile his way, hand moving to cradle his face as he nuzzles into your touch. “I can’t believe how you were hiding this from me, didn’t know how much you needed me.”
He hums along to your words, hand grabbing your wrist as he rubs his thumb along your skin. It all feels sweet, if only it weren’t for how his cock is straining against his boxers. You ignore it, moving to place yourself on top of him, one thigh in between his legs as you kiss him softly. At first, he melts in your touch, taking it all in. In about thirty seconds, you can tell how impatient he’s getting.
You can feel him squirm under you, his cock subtly grinding into your thigh. You continue to ignore him, pressing kisses all over the moles on his face. His eyes are shut, heavy breaths fanning across your face as he tries to hold himself together. You wait for him to unravel, wait for him to beg out to you. You want to know that he needs you.
All it takes are a few more kisses and a few more seconds of him humping your thigh before he gives in, “Just- can you… can you please touch me, mommy?”
His eyelashes bat at you, and you flash a sickly sweet smile at him. You slowly move yourself down, pulling up his shirt to expose his chest and stomach. You kiss all over where you can reach, hearing how he lets out a small whine when you get close to his nipples. “Would my baby mind me touching his chest?”
You place your lips over one, sucking lightly onto his skin. He whines, cock pushing against your stomach as you lick all around. You look at him through hooded eyes, looking at how his arm covers his face as he fights through the stimulation. He can feel how you smile against his nipple while your other hand tweaks the neglected one. It’s all too much and all too little, “Please, need you to touch me already. Need you so bad, mommy!”
“Hmm, but I’m already touching you?” you say messily against his chest, “what more do you need?”
He rubs his hand against his face, realizing that he’s never really begged like this before. His mind feels hazy over how fast you were able to do this for him, make him beg and feel humiliated. You are everything he could have asked for. He sucks in a breath when he feels your teeth brush against him, “Just- my cock. Need to feel you touch my cock. Please.”
“All you had to do was ask, baby.” You move further down, tapping his hip to get him to lift his hips up as you take off his boxers. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and leaking at the tip, now twitching at your attention. You ghost your fingertips over his aching cock, loving how he’s already whining. You wrap your hand over his length, thumb moving up to tease his tip, “Mommy wants to see you cum, do you think you can do that for me?”
He quickly nods, “Wanna cum for you, wanna make a mess all over your hand.”
“I’ve got you, my pretty baby.” You tease his tip with the palm of your hand, spreading around his precum. After a few more whines fill the air, you build a slow rhythm of fisting his length. All the sounds that fill the room are Haechan’s whimpers and the slick sound of your hand on his cock. You press kisses to his thighs, feeling how they jump with your touch. You look up to see him fucked out by just your hand, drool slipping out of the corner of his mouth.
You move your hand faster, watching how his hips fuck up into your hand, needing more than what you’re already giving him. One of his hands trails over his body, stopping at his nipple to squeeze at it. His other hand stops at his mouth, his fingers slipping into his mouth as he moans out to you. You squeeze your thighs together, breath getting heavy from just watching him.
You absentmindly tighten your fist around him, his cock twitching in your hold, “W-wait, I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Need to cum, mommy, please let me cum!”
You frown at him, “Already? Can’t you hold on for a little longer for mommy?”
At your words, he cums all over the tight hold of your fist. Globs of cum land on your hand and on his stomach all while Haechan’s crying out in relief. You sigh out, thumb rubbing over his tip as he yelps in surprise. He tries to reach over to pull your hand off him, but you stop him, “Mommy wants to see how much more you can take, okay?”
Whines fill the air as you quickly move your hand over his length, cum helping the slide over him. It’s messy, slick sounds mixing in with your laughs as his thighs shake around you. His hands try to push against your own while his hips fuck into your hold. Tears threaten to slip from his eyes, his pretty lips open to let cries out. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” you say, feigning concern as your hand twists around his cock.
“H-hurts, hurts so bad that it feels good! Please slow down… just- just a little more and I’ll cum!”
“Aw, is mommy not doing a good job?” you say, practically mocking him.
“No! Please keep going, wanna cum again!” You can see tears slip from his cheeks, his face flushed as one of his hands tugs at his hair. You pull your hand away when he tells you he’s about to cum, hearing the loud sobs he lets out as you swat away his hands that try to wrap around his length.
“Mommy wants to hear how good of a job she’s doing, won’t you tell me how good I’m doing, baby?”
Haechan cries out when he feels you softly lick at his tip, your eyes staring up at him in a way he’s seen so many times before. It’s different now though, him genuinely crying out for you to let him cum. His mind is nearly blank, thoughts only being of you looking so nice between his legs. “You… Mommy's doing such a good job, making me feel so good. Just wanna cum, wanna show mommy how good she’s doing…”
With one last kiss to his tip, you look at him and smile, “Is that true, baby?” your hand moves to his pulsing cock, “It makes me so happy to hear you say that. Might just have to reward you, hmm?”
He cries out when you start moving your fist against him, one of his hands moving to hold onto yours, entwining your fingers. It’s cute, him needing your hold to reassure him. You move down to suckle at his tip again, catching Haechan off gaurd as he shoves his cock further into your mouth. He whines at the warmth of your mouth, you tutting at him for going out of line.
You quickly jerk him off, wanting to see him cum, needing to see him fall apart. You’re breathing heavily affected by your own boyfriend. “Cum for me, mommy wants to see you cum.”
He lets go at your words, cum spurting onto your fist, helping him ride out his orgasm. His hand quickly stops yours before you can try moving your fist over him again. You chuckle at the sight, moving up towards his face. You press kisses along his tear-stained cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off his face as he comes down from his high. You thread your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp as he sniffles.
You lean down to his ear, “Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”
“Will you… ride me?” he asks, shyly looking away from you.
You laugh at how cute he is like this, giving him one last kiss before you ask him to undress. He peels off his shirt and boxers, his eyes watching you slip off your bra and panties. He reaches out to you, trying to get you close to him. You smile as you sit right over his cock, sliding your wet cunt over his length. His head pushes back into the pillows as he grinds up into you, savoring the feeling of your slick all over him.
“Mommy’s gonna fuck you now,” a wide grin on your face as you put his tip at your entrance, teasing him as you shallowly let him slip inside you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his face scrunched up. You place your hands onto his shoulders as you slide down his length, the stretch sending sparks up your spine as you moan out. Even if you’re the one in control right now, it’s still your boyfriend you’re fucking, his cock almost making you lose focus.
His hands shoot up to your sides, holding onto your hips as you experimentally swivel your hips around his length. He’s holding back his moans, biting down on his lips as you bring yourself back up. Your nails dig into his skin, his length filling you up nicely. You look down at him, his eyes trailing up your chest before meeting your gaze, looking fucked out. “Tell me how much you want this, baby.”
He lets out a shaky breath, “Need you, wanna feel you cum around me. Wanna cum in you so bad, wanna fill my mommy up with my cum.”
At his words, you start bouncing on his cock. You watch his face, flushed out as his hands move to hold onto whatever he can. He gropes at your boobs, fingers teasing your nipples. The only noises in the room are his cries, your moans, and the sound of your thighs slapping against his. He’s breathing heavily, eyes watering once more. You realize what’s happening when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, your eyes widening in excitement.
“You’re gonna cum like this? I haven’t even cum yet, but you can’t help it, right? Didn’t know my good boy could be so dirty.”
He cums inside of you, hips moving against yours as you continue to fuck him. You can feel his cum slip out of your cunt, making a mess between your thighs. He’s moaning loudly, his cock softening inside of you. You laugh out at him, “You came so fast, it felt too good, right? I still need to cum,” you pout, letting your hips take over, “you’ll let me cum, yeah?”
You continue to fuck down onto him, feeling his cock twitch despite how much it might hurt for him right now. He’s fucking his hips into yours, crying out at the pain bleeding into pleasure. You rub your clit down onto him, grinding down slowly, “You know, I never thought that you’d ask me to do this. Thought you’d be able to fuck me every single time.”
He nods, not hearing you clearly as he follows your movements, cock hardening inside of you again. His cum mixed with your slick, stickiness all over his thighs as you move on top of him. He’d have it no other way, watching your face, showing him that you’re just as affected as he is. His hand reaches for yours, placing it softly on his throat. He looks at you, eyes begging you to do something.
You let out a shaky moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you when you slightly tighten your grip on his neck. “You’re still surprising me, can’t ever be satisfied with just one thing.”
You tighten your grip, moving your hips faster against him, him letting out little puffs of air. His eyes roll to the back of his skull, a soft whimper leaving his mouth, “I like you so much, mommy. I’d let you do anything to m-me.”
You let go of his throat, nearly toppling over him as you reach to kiss him. He tries to catch his breath between kisses, hands moving to your hips, moving your hips for you as you focus on him. It’s all too much, your love for him and your cunt clenching around him making it much more intense.
“Wanna cum with you, mommy. Wanna feel your pretty pussy cum all over my cock.”
You nod, whining out to him as you bounce on his cock, tightly sucking his cock into you. Your hands reach his nipples, toying with them, silently begging him to cum already. He kisses you messily, moaning into your mouth as he finally fills you up once again. He ruts his hips into yours, trying to get you to cum. It doesn’t take much, curling into him as your orgasm washes over you, Haechan whimpering out from how tight you’re clenching around him.
You’re lying on top of him, breaths heavy as you recover from your orgasm. You look at him through bleary eyes, hands moving to wipe the tears off of his face. You slip him out of you, his thighs shaking as you do. He’s warm, melting into your touch as you sigh at him, “You did so good for me, baby. You were such a good boy.”
He smiles at you, not saying anything else as he wraps his arms tightly around you, pressing your chest against his. It’s like this for a while, listening to his heartbeat in his chest while he traces patterns on your back. It reminds you of the other night, before this all started. You grin to yourself, realizing just how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like Haechan.
He mumbles out, too tired to properly speak, “You take such good care of me.”
It almost makes you cry in a way. Now you know how Haechan feels, to give someone your everything during sex. It’s honest, your love spilling out in everything you do. You felt like you were able to pay him back for all he does for you when you whine and beg. You whisper out, not trusting your voice, “It’s only because you take such good care of me.”
A few moments pass, and you remember, “How did you know what I was supposed to do during sex? Like, choking and all that stuff.”
His eyes closed in embarrassment, “Well, the other night I kinda… got off to… all these porn videos?”
You stare at him in amazement. You really are lucky to have someone like him.
Months have passed since the first time you dominated him.
Your relationship feels almost as if it were new, enjoying how Haechan tells you each of his thoughts. Hours of nonstop teasing him, him whining in your ear to make him cum. Days where he’s pushing your limits, getting off in front of you in order to get your attention. He says he’s willing to try everything that you want, willing to take any pleasure you give him because it’s you.
There is one thing that you want to try.
You know how jealous he gets of Mark when he’d subtly eye you, jealous that someone wants to take his sweet girlfriend from him. Jealous that his best friend was willing to call you mommy. Although he never really brings it up himself, you can tell that he’s quite possessive of you. Nights where he’d beg to cum in you, beg to let everyone know that you’re his proves your thoughts.
Although you think getting pregnant would be a surefire way to get Mark off your back, you think it might be easier to show him up close. You come up with a plan to let Mark see you and Haechan in a way he hasn’t seen before.
For a week, you deny Haechan’s advances towards you. You swat his hands away when he tries to grope your ass. You wear a tank top and tiny shorts around him. You whine and beg for him and once he shows interest, you ignore him. At first, he thinks being blatantly ignored is kind of hot because, of course, he’s like that. At the end of the week, he outwardly tells you he tried jerking off but couldn’t cum because he needed you to do it. Brat.
You decide to make your move after the week has ended. You text him after your class and ask if you could make a surprise visit. He agrees and you make your way to his apartment. You find him sitting at his desk, playing Overwatch with another person. You greet him and plant a soft kiss on his lips. Before you can pull away, he deepens the kiss, hands pushing your face towards him. You chuckle lightly, “Focus on your game, Haechan.”
“Can’t. Not when my baby looks so good today.” You hear a muted gag through his headset, and Haechan quickly tells his friend to shut the fuck up. You laugh at his antics, his arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his face into your stomach. You brush your fingers through his hair, and he lightly groans. You untangle yourself from his grip, moving to lay on his bed.
“Who are you playing with?” You ask
“Just Mark. Why?” He responds, a hint of jealousy in his voice when you haven’t even done anything yet.
“I was just wondering…” You make yourself comfortable on his bed.
He hums, resuming his game with Mark. You scroll through your phone, hearing the occasional swearing at Mark for not playing as good. You watch him from his bed, how focused he is on his game, his shorts showing off his pretty thighs, his fingers that tap against his keyboard. You bite your lip, putting your phone down to slowly make your way to Haechan.
He eyes you, smiling at you right by his side. He pats his thighs, silently asking you to sit on his lap. You happily agree, plopping yourself down as he wraps his arms around his back, waiting for another game to start. You sigh, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as you feel the vibrations in his chest from the chuckle he lets out, “My pretty baby, you look so cute right now.”
Before you can reply, you hear Mark speak through Haechan’s headphones. You can’t hear him clearly, but you do hear your name, which puts a frown on Haechan’s face. Haechan quickly tells him to mind his business, telling him to focus on the game that’s about to start. Haechan made this too easy, you think, relaxing into his touch as he begins his game. There’s words being exchanged, and every time Haechan gets a kill, he happily kisses you.
You think there might be a better reward other than a kiss. As the game continues, you begin to shift in his lap, pretending to get more comfortable in Haechan’s lap. You can hear how his hands stutter against his keyboard, quickly regaining his composure, thinking it was an innocent action. You smile to yourself, your boyfriend trying to hold himself back.
It’s not until you softly grind yourself onto his bare thigh, pressing light kisses on his neck. You can feel how hot he’s gotten, not really knowing what to do. It’s when he realizes that you’re only wearing panties under your shirt that he has to mute his mic to look at you increduously, mouth wide open. You say in a breathy voice, “Need you so bad, Haechan, wanna feel you…”
He whispers as if Mark could still hear him, “B-but, I’m still playing my game… and Mark could hear you…”
You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh, “You can be quiet, can't you? I won’t move, just wanna feel you in me.”
His round eyes look into yours as his hands rub against your thighs. He looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s interrupted by a shout from Mark asking where he’s at. He quickly agrees to your words, pressing a quick kiss on your lips before unmuting his mic, asking Mark to once again mind his business.
You start your ministrations on him, rubbing the tent in his shorts, feeling how his cock grows under your touch. He bites his lips, trying to concentrate on his game, but getting distracted by your touch. He can feel how wet you are on his thigh, mind almost falling apart from how much you’re enjoying this. He shifts his hips once he’s hard, begging you to pull down his shorts.
He lifts his hips, helping you pull them down and seeing how he was wearing no boxers under his shorts. You eye his face, watching the pretty blush form on his face at your realization. You push one side of his headphones off of his ear as you whisper, “Gonna put it in now.”
His eyes move away from his screen as you pull your panties aside, teasing his tip along your slit before putting it at your entrance. You watch as he mouths out a please, his eyes fluttering shut as you slide yourself down his cock. You can feel how his thighs shake under yours as you sit down on him, holding himself back from bucking up into your heat. He can feel how warm and wet your walls are, your slick dripping down his cock.
He’s twitching heavily inside of you, and you have to hold back a laugh from how hard he’s trying right now. He has to stop whimpers from falling out of his mouth even if you’re not doing anything. You swirl your hips a bit, causing Haechan to let out a small whine as he ruts into you. You quickly mute his mic for him, hearing how Mark protests on the other end, “If you get some kills, I’ll start moving. If not, I’ll just sit here waiting for you. Is that alright, baby?”
He nods, lurching forward once more to kiss you messily. You laugh, motioning him to unmute his mic. You press your finger against your lips, reminding him one last time to be quiet. A shaky hand reaches to his mic, quickly answering Mark’s concerns, “It-it was nothing, I just hit my elbow on the desk.”
Another game starts, signaled by Haechan’s fingers against his keyboard. You continue your kisses on his neck, your tongue licking up his neck to his jaw. You can feel him shudder as his cock twitches inside of you. He tries to buck up into you, but you press down on his hips with your hands, stopping his movements. His eyes find yours, practically begging you to do something. You just smile, reminding him about the promise you made with him.
He bites his lip once more as he focuses on his screen, hearing the clicking of his keys. There are jumbled sounds coming from Mark’s end, apparently telling Haechan to hurry up. You can tell Haechan gets frustrated with him as he properly moves up, focusing on his screen to stop Mark from saying anything else. When you hear a ding from his headphones, saying how he’s gotten a kill, you begin to grind down on his cock.
He lets out the smallest whimper, hips pushing into yours as he shuts his eyes, trying to fend off any sounds that might come out of him. He can feel how deep he is inside of you with how slow you’re grinding against him. His hands are shaking, fingers messily moving against his keys. As soon as he starts getting more worked up, you begin to stop, laying forward against his chest.
He wants to start begging for you to move, but with Mark on the other side, he’s scared he might hear him. So he sits there, focusing on his game, trying to get another kill.
“Thought you were good at this game, baby. Making me sit here and wait for you to win,” you say, getting impatient with him. He shakes his head no, and you roll your eyes, “You still have to talk, Haechan. Poor Mark is waiting for you, too.”
Haechan hates how you bring up Mark while he’s literally inside of you. He shifts his weight around, lightly moving you against him. He can feel you clench around him, using every muscle in his body trying not to moan out into his mic. He wonders if that’s what you really want to do, and as he takes a quick glance at you, he sees the small smirk drawn out on your face. He lets out a shaky breath, excitement taking over thinking about what you might do.
After a few more minutes, he can tell how impatient you’re getting. It’s not his fault for missing so many shots, not when you’re tightly wrapped around his aching cock. You press kisses along his skin as your hands trail underneath his shirt, lightly scratching along abdomen. He can feel how you subtly move on top of him, trying to get off along with him.
“Thought you said you were good at video games,” you say a little louder, “if you were, I wouldn’t have to sit here to wait for you.”
Before he can respond, he’s cut off by you placing a hand on his chest, allowing you to sit up. You slide off of his cock, pressing a quick peck on his lips before slamming your hips down onto him. He lets out a loud whimper, hands leaving his keyboard in order to hold onto your sides. You look at his face scrunched up in pleasure, completely overwhelmed by how you’re fucking him.
“Can you tell mommy how good she’s making you feel?”
His eyes look into yours, bleary from the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. He’s embarrassed and clearly aware of Mark being on the other side. Your hands make their way to his nipples, pinching them harshly, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll leave you here, make you cum by yourself with Mark still on call.”
At the thought, Haechan moans loudly, his words piercing through the air, “Fuck, mommy- making me feel so good! Need you to fuck- want you to- want you keep riding me!”
You can hear a loud, confused sound coming from Haechan’s headphones, but no sign of Mark leaving the call. At Haechan’s words, you put all your energy into riding him. He no longer cares about how loud he’s being, mixtures of whimpers and whines of your name along with the slapping of skin against skin fill the room.
“Sitting so nicely for me, letting me use you like you’re a toy. You like that, don’t you?” You emphasize your words with a quick tug of his hair, his hips bucking up into yours from the pain. As you try to move your hand away from his hair, he moves to keep your hand there, his round eyes asking you for more. How could you deny him?
“Use me as much as you want. Wanna be mommy’s toy forever!”
Drool slips past his lips, whispering out a messy boy as your thumb goes to the corner of his mouth to clean him up. You move your thumb over his lips, pushing past them and into his mouth. His tongue circles around, his moans muffled around you. You see how his eyes practically beg for more and more despite being consumed by pleasure. You can hear how there’s another game starting behind you, clearly hearing Mark still on call.
“Only I can have you like this, right? No one can fuck me better than my pretty boy.”
He nods, sucking your thumb as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to yours. Tears are welling up in his eyes again, your words affirming every thought in his mind. You know how much he likes to be praised, how much he likes being told that he’s doing a good job. You coo at him as tears begin to spill, your cunt clenching around him tightly to where his hips stutter against yours.
“You’re the only one that gets to see me like this. Isn’t that right, Mark?” Haechan removes himself from your thumb in order to moan out at your words, and you can hear how Mark disconnects from the game and from the call.
“Finally,” you moan out, rolling your hips faster onto Haechan, “he was taking too long to get off the call. Probably wanted to see how good I take care of my sweet boy, hm?”
“Yes! You take care of me so good, can’t believe I’m yours. Wanna show everyone that you’re mine!” He’s thrusting into you quickly, his tip hitting your sweet spot. You can feel how his body is shaking under yours, overwhelmed by you taking everything from him.
“Now Mark knows that you belong to me, that I don’t want anyone but you,” you say as you lick up his throat. His hips are stuttering against yours, close to cumming inside of you. You take his hand to your clit, trying to get him to get you off. In a whiny voice close to his, you ask, “Wanna cum with you, won’t you let me cum with my pretty boy?”
He can feel himself fall apart under you, the sight of you on top of him, using him for your own pleasure takes over his mind. He’s not sure what you just said, mind only thinking about you. He nods dumbly, fingers moving sloppily against your clit. He thrusts into you, trying to help you cum before him. He can hear your sharp whine as your face buries itself into his shoulder, and feels how your walls clench tightly around him as you cum.
He lightly thrusts up into you, his cum shooting into you as he whimpers and cries out to you. He’s not sure by how loud he’s being, but by how you move to kiss him, he’s sure that he’s being louder than you. Your tongues messily press against each other as you ride yourselves through your orgasms, feeling how he twitches inside of you. You pull off of him, a small whimper from sensitivity slipping out of Haechan.
“You did so good for me… just wanted to show my baby how much I wanted him…”
His tired eyes are filled with love when he looks at you, “Couldn’t have asked for anything more, love how you treat me. I just… I love you.”
You shyly laugh as you move to kiss him, letting all the love you have for him speak for itself. He holds you by your sides, smiling into the kiss as you giggle against him. There’s nowhere more you’d rather be than right here, enjoying your boyfriend and everything he has to offer you.
It’s not until you’re interrupted by Haechan’s phone ringing, making you both groan out. He begrudgingly picks it up, immediately smiling and showing you his phone.
[markly] 11:48, you guys are FREAKS
[markly] 11:48, YOU KNOW I WAS JOKING RIGHT… ABOUT EVERYTHING I SAID…
[markly] 11:48, KEEP ME OUT OF YOUR BUSINESS PLEASEEE 🙏 (or dont)
You smile as you read Mark’s texts off of Haechan’s phone. Your boyfriend laughs into your neck as he puts his phone down, wrapping both arms around you. You don’t think you’d want this any other way.
a/n: GOD. this was so long for no reason but im glad its out... i always wondered how people could write more than 10k but now I Get It. THANK YOU FOR READING!!!
taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @hrts4doie @jenodreamer
#nct smut#nct fic#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#haechan x reader#haechan smut#haechan scenarios#sub haechan#haechan fic
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Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]
Title: Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]
Synopsis: Mahito doesn't like that you have an interest in a book character.
Word count: 1787
notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of other people being tortured/killed, supreme self indulgence of the highest order
“Who is the smiling man?”
The silence that had existed between the two of you was broken by a question that made you flinch. Well, why not? Mahito has been quiet all morning--and afternoon, actually, which perhaps should have startled you more than his sudden words.
But you were too happy to enjoy some quiet (you would never say “peace and quiet,” not down here, not with him); all too happy to curl up in your haphazard nest on the floor with some books that took you away from this place. Away from Mahito.
Who was, of course, still here. Lounging in his hammock with a pile of books sagging down the netting.
You couldn’t tell exactly what he was reading from down here--you probably needed new glasses, a subject you were certainly not going to bring up with Mahito, who might reiterate his offer to “fix” your eyes. It looked like a bundle of pages stapled together. Maybe he went to the library and printed off obscure articles to read again.
“Hey,” he calls down, and the first hint of worry begins to prickle on your arms at his uncharacteristically serious tone, “Answer me.”
Your mind stutters, tries to put one word in front of the other, and make sense of it all.
The smiling man? The smiling man, the… ah. From Small Spaces. The otherworldly supernatural entity who lives in a world behind mist and has a penchant for making deals with people for their greatest wishes.
It’s not your fault that you haven’t thought about him in ages. It’s not like you had copies of your books with you, and the fun you had with imagining him in an endless number of scenarios had fallen by the wayside considering your circumstances.
It’s hard to daydream about worlds behind mist and cornfield servants when you’re watching people be turned into grotesque experiments that had them, sometimes quite literally and loudly, begging for death.
Mahito is looking down at you now, staring expectantly.
“He’s a character,” you say, fidgeting on the floor. “From a book series.” You look down, flip a page in your book, although you haven’t finished reading the last one, and ask, casually as you can muster: “Why?”
Mahito, up above, flips a page. You can hear the wobble in the paper--not a bound book, that’s for certain. And there’s some low, primal sense that shivers through you which says, plainly, that he’s actually reading whatever’s in front of him.
“You write about him a lot.”
Oh.
Low, slimy dread filters into your stomach. Thick and gelatinous, resting at the bottom of your belly like an unwanted slug.
“I… don’t know what you mean,” you say, voice only half-there, because while you are apparently stupid enough to lie to Mahito’s face, you’re not stupid enough to think he’ll believe you.
You are just stupid enough to think that he won’t know exactly how deep your interest in this particular character goes; before Mahito took you, you thought about him all the time. You’d take walks and daydream about him, write story after story; you’d even commissioned fanart of him, because it wasn’t like there was a plethora of fanart for a character from a middle grade horror book.
Mahito huffs out a sigh. Quick and short, it sends a shock right down your stomach.
“Get you a man,” he starts, and confusion buzzes through your brain until he continues. “Who is an otherworldly entity that is so petty when an 11 year old beats him that he traps her in another world, leaving her to a fate worse than death, and laughs until he cries about it.”
You wrote that. There’s a vague memory of when you posted it--after you’d taken a walk, you think, and reread your favorite parts in the books for a few hours. But the way Mahito says it makes it sound--you don’t know how to explain it. Like saying the words out loud almost pains him; they come out clipped and bitter.
Bitter? But why?
He doesn’t stop there. He reads something else, voice getting higher, almost mocking the way you talk. And that bitterness is still there, a thread continuing through every syllable.
“What if we kissed in the corn maze before you turned me into a scarecrow servant whose soul slowly gets dried out and useless and in the end you feed it, crunchy and tasteless, to your hellhound.”
He takes a breath. Then--
“One particular aspect of the Smiling Man’s cruelty that I truly adore is that he can make people feel understood. He can make them feel like he cares, like he’s lending a listening ear, like he’s wanting to help them out and make them feel nice.”
Another breath--and he continues, again and again, reading your posts. Quoting your stories. Listing off the titles, the imagine posts, everything you’ve said about him.
All the while, bitter and mocking, his voice raising now and then in an imitation of your own.
Then he gets to the last page of his clearly self-created tome and stares down at you, waiting, expectant.
And you… you actually glare up at him.
Because you're scared, sure. You’re always scared in some way, when you’re with Mahito. But there’s something else too, something that digs its way out of the rot in your gut and sticks up a petulant middle finger.
How dare he do this. How dare he take something that was yours and make it his; put it in his mouth and sneer over it.
“Have you been--” Your mouth sticks together, refusing to let you accuse him of what you know he’s been doing. Stalking your online profiles. “That’s… that’s private,” is what you finally mutter, cheeks feeling hot and that half-buried petulance pushing you forward. “It’s not any of your business.”
“Private?” He mutters the word softly, cradling the sound.
And then--
Mahito doesn’t often move fast around you. He prefers to be slow, languid. Calculating. You think it’s because that terrifies you more.
But now, in a moment, he goes from being slouched in his hammock to leaping down and crouching right in your face--there’s sudden pain in your head, and you realize he’s grabbed your hair and yanked it back.
That metaphorical middle finger sinks back down into the slimy gut sludge.
“Not from me,” he says, low, a warning. “Not for you.”
This is all it takes for tears to prick inside your eyes.
Mahito’s lips quirk up. Just a little. Just enough for you to notice.
“You’re going to cry already? I didn’t even do anything.”
Your eyes dart up and back, towards where he’s currently gripping your hair hard enough for it to sting.
He sighs through his nose. “This isn’t anything. You know that. Don’t be childish now.”
But--he lets go of your hair, and doesn’t grab for you when you scoot backwards on your blanket nest. Instead, he plops himself down, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his elbow.
You don’t speak. You don’t want to, and you don’t know what to say. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet around Mahito, so he doesn’t get ideas. Although he comes up with them on his own just fine, even if you try to stay silent.
It’s Mahito who breaks the silence.
“Why do you like him so much?”
How silly, to feel embarrassed right now. With the creature in front of you, and what he can do. But that’s what makes your cheeks burn: embarrassment.
“I don’t know,” you mumble, because while you are stupid in so many ways, you’re still smart enough to know he wants an answer. “I guess I just like antagonist characters sometimes.” Well, most of the time. But it’s better to keep that from Mahito, if you can.
Mahito’s lips quirk here and there while he thinks. Then he looks at you with something like genuine confusion.
“You say that you like how awful he is. The awful things he does. So…” He tilts his head a little. “You should like me. Right?”
Your fingers pick at the loose threads of your clothes. Your eyes don’t meet his entirely--they flick up and down, from your legs to his face.
“It’s not the same thing,” is what you come up with. But how to explain that to a curse?
Mahito frowns.
“I don’t understand.” No bitterness, no pouting. A simple statement of fact.
“He’s not real.” You swallow against the minefield that all of this is making you step through, hoping you’ll avoid them. “But you are. That makes it different.”
Mahito leans forward, grabbing your wrists, pulling you closer to him with a yanking, childish gesture.
“So you should like me more,” he says, a slight pout in his tone. “Because I can really do those things.” His eyebrows raise, and you swear you can hear a buzzing light bulb go off. “I could turn someone into a scarecrow for you.” He smiles, sudden, excited. “Do you want me to find some school children to torment?”
“No!” Your voice cracks. There are brief images in your mind--the people he’s tortured and killed, experimented with, before you were here and while you’re here and probably after you’re dead and gone--and you shake them away.
Mahito’s eyebrows furrow. He groans and rolls his eyes backwards until they are entirely white, not in mockery or an attempt to scare you, but in irritation. Fingers squeeze your wrists briefly and let go, and you stay quiet, trying to fight your urge to cry, until Mahito slowly rolls his eyes back to stare at you.
His gaze flicks over you, until he catches your eyes with his.
“You won’t write about him anymore.”
You don’t take a moment to answer this time.
“I won’t.”
“You won’t read those books anymore.”
“I won’t,” you stay. “I haven’t. I--don’t even have copies anymore.”
Mahito smiles, a little. Maybe it’s a good thing you never asked him to find you a copy, a thought which had been a brief temptation a while back.
And then he leans in closer again, until his nose touches yours.
“You won’t think about him anymore,” he says, quiet, solemn. Not an order but a matter of fact.
You don’t answer. You swallow against a bitter taste in your throat; you swear, sometimes, that the sludge in your gut is real and tries to make its way out sometimes.
Mahito presses his nose against yours until it starts to hurt.
“You won’t,” he says again, this time more to himself. “I’ll make sure of it.”
#yandere mahito#yandere jjk#mahito x reader#smiling man#look two obsessions in one!#afterwitch writes
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sunday morning
✩ logan howlett x reader x wade wilson | fluff | suggestive | 1.1k
SUMMARY | autumn weather begins to roll in one sunday morning. you greet your boyfriends in the living room, finding wade matching you in one of logan's signature plaid shirts. // part of the home sweet home series
WARNINGS | making out, touching, s*xual jokes, morning s*x on the couch implied
RATING | teen+
Warm streams of sunlight pour through the slitted window shades and onto the bed, draping over your eyes and waking you from your beautiful slumber.
With a content smile, you savor the fact that it’s Sunday and that sunlight, rather than an obnoxious alarm, is your wake-up call. You prefer it this way over any day.
Despite the sun’s warmth, you find it chilly, more so than usual, especially in contrast to your t-shirt and shorts-clad body. Fall approaches and it’s one of your favourite times of the year. The beginning of cozy drinks, crisp air, and the city blanketed in vibrant orange leaves.
But for now, you’re not quite ready to embrace autumn, tugging the blanket up and covering your shivering self up to your neck to ward off the chill.
Reaching behind you in the king-sized bed, you hope to find one of your boyfriends for a little extra comfort and warmth, but your hand only meets empty space. Your ears catch the familiar hum of your more talkative partner, along with the TV and satisfying sounds of morning coffee being made.
Blinking the sleep away, you spend a few more moments nestling in your blanket. When you finally decide to get up, you instinctively step towards Logan’s side of the closet and grab one of his brown plaid shirts to cover-up. Given his taller stature, the ends of his shirt easily cover your thighs.
The bedroom door creaks open and Dogpool immediately welcomes you with a happy wag of her tail. Squatting down to her level, you pet her on the head and give her some loving scritches.
Glancing up, you spot Logan sprawled on the sectional sofa, watching TV with his legs draped over the extended part. He’s wearing a simple white tee and plaid pajama pants and adorning a bit of messy hair.
Across the room, in the kitchen, Wade’s whistling as he makes drinks, decked out in one of his many Spider-man shirts, pink and white striped pajama bottoms, and another plaid shirt from Logan’s extensive collection.
Your smile widens at the sight of him in Logan’s clothes, fawning how handsome he is, almost rocking it as much as Logan does.
Standing up, you catch Logan eyeing you up and down, gaze lingering on how the oversized shirt fits you. There’s a glint in his eye, reminiscent of how he looked at you last night.
“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says with a small smile, his voice still carrying the raspy edge of waking up early.
“Good morning, sweet cheeks!” Wade sing-songs. “How are the holes this fine—”
His face lights up as he sees what you’re wearing.
“Oh, my God! We’re totally matchy-matchy, babe,” Wade says, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.
You stroll into the kitchen and touch his chest from behind. “We are, indeed, babe.”
Initially, you plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he turns his head after, diving into a deep kiss. Post-kiss, he gently rubs his nose against yours, holding you by your waist. You giggle at the affectionate gesture.
“Who pulls it off better, Logie Bear?” Wade asks, still tenderly holding you with locked eyes.
“You know the answer to that,” Logan deadpans from the living room.
“It’s me,” Wade mouths, pointing to himself dramatically. Although you shake your head in disagreement, you beam in response.
Reluctantly, you pull away from Wade’s body, but still keep contact in the form of hand-holding. You grab the cup of tea he made for you.
“It’s cool this morning, huh?” you comment, blowing your tea before taking a sip.
“Yeah, fall’s officially here to eat our ass out,” he mirrors you, drinking some of his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining—you know I love me some PSLs.”
You glance at the color of his coffee.
“Wade, I’m not sure pumpkin spice lattes can even compete with how sweet and creamy you take your coffee.”
“What are you talking about? I add just a teeny, tiny pinch of cream and sugar,” he protests.
“You drink coffee the worst way, bub,” Logan pipes up, surprisingly listening in on the pointless conversation.
“Okay, Mr. I-Drink-Coffee-As-Dark-As-My-Empty-Soul,” Wade retorts with a roll of his eyes. He jerks a thumb toward the living room. “Get a load of this guy, am I right? Actually, on second thought, you did get a load of him last night. And me, of course.”
He winks at you and all you can do is shake your head, indulging in Wade’s humor. You gather your tea and another cup, then walk towards the couch. Setting a cup of black coffee on a coaster in front of Logan and placing your tea beside it, you settle next to him. He drags his attention away from the TV and reaches out for you, touching the back of your bare thigh.
“Thanks, baby,” he says, rubbing his thumb tenderly over your skin. You squeeze his hand in response, a silent “Of course” conveyed.
“Did Wade wake you up?” you ask.
Logan shakes his head. “No, I was up before sunrise. Had a hard time fallin’ back asleep.”
“Was it really bad last night?” you ask in concern, reaching out to stroke his face.
“No, it was fine,” he assures. “Sleep’s been better since we started this.”
This obviously implying the unconventional relationship you three share, but it works, even if Logan’s not keen to admit how he has a soft spot for Wade. Logan leans into you for a kiss, his grin spreading as he does so. It’s hard not to mirror his smile.
The kissing is innocent, but only for so long.
“You look so fuckin’ good in just my shirt, y’know that?” he murmurs, tugging you flush to his body. His calloused hands trail up your legs and underneath his shirt that you’re wearing. A low moan follows.
“Hey, invite me if you’re gonna be fucking on my couch without me!” Wade exclaims, suddenly flopping across Logan’s lap and your body. You groan, trying to support the weight of your two muscle-bound boyfriends.
“It’s Al’s couch!” you and Logan chorus, barely managing to keep your balance.
“And don’t you forget it!” Althea suddenly says, her voice muffled behind her bedroom door.
Logan shifts to press closer against Wade while still holding onto you. Your other boyfriend dips his head, kissing you fervently. His coffee breath is unmistakable, but you couldn't care less, especially when you feel Wade pressing his rising hardness against you.
“Also, besides my usual warning about keeping it down, if you’re gonna fuck on the couch again, please wipe it down after,” Blind Al calls out, still behind the door.
“Yes, Al,” all three of you respond in unison in your tangled harmony.
Before long, plaid shirts are tossed aside, along with the rest of everyone’s bed wear. You keep your moans and whines to a minimum for Al’s sake (or at least you try to).
You welcome the oncoming weather of fall with your bodies pressed up against each other, exchanging warmth in the chill morning.
And of course, besides sleeping in, you remember why Sunday mornings are your absolute favourite.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fluff#logan howlett fluff#wade wilson x you#wade wilson x reader#deadpool x reader#deadpool x you#deadpool fluff
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Lessons in Love
(Or why Enzo should be banned from advanced potion making)
Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw Reader
Summary: Ft. Enzo being bad at potions, the Ravenclaw common room door, and more than one accidental love confession.
word count: 3.3k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
A deep sigh escapes your lips as you walk purposefully through the empty halls of the castle. You loved Enzo. Really, you did. But how that bastard had managed to squeeze enough O.W.Ls out of his arse to get into advanced potion making was absolutely beyond you.
It’s not that you thought your childhood best friend was dumb per se. You simply thought his talents lay elsewhere. Like in herbology. Or anywhere really where adding a pinch too much powdered moonstone didn’t result in a glittery pink potion exploding all over the front of your robes. This never would have happened of course, if your usual, equally talented, potions partner, Theodore Nott, had actually bothered to show up, but god only knew where that boy had wandered off to.
Walking into classes earlier that day you had been giddy with excitement. While potions may not have been Enzo’s forte, it was most definitely yours and advanced potions was finally giving you the challenge you had been craving. Amortentia, your professor had said, is the strongest love potion in the world, thereby making it exceptionally difficult to brew. You already knew this of course as it had all been detailed in the days readings. Not only would it make someone obsessively in love, but it also had an addictive scent, changing to fit what one was most attracted to. Now that was all well and good until one was covered in it.
Originally, you figured that all would be fine. Enzo profusely apologized, quickly following up with a joke about how “at least you’ll smell nice for once.” But oh how right he’d been. It started with students accidentally bumping into you in the corridor as you went from class to class as they subconsciously leaned in to follow the alluring scent. A minor inconvenience you thought. (Although you did have to choose to ignore that third year almost getting impaled on a statue’s sword because he wasn’t paying attention after you passed.)
But then Cho and Marietta couldn’t stop leaning in to get a whiff of the scent all throughout the start of charms, causing Flitwick to continuously shoot concerned glances at the three of you. You eventually caved, moving quickly and silently to the back of the class room where Enzo was sat with the rest of the Slytherins. As soon as he saw you making your way over, he leaned over, whispering something in Daphne’s ear beside him. She gives you a quick look of knowing pity before moving into the empty seats usually claimed by Theodore and Matteo who were, unsurprisingly, still no where to be found.
“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” Enzo mumbles, at least having the decency to look embarrassed as you plop into the seat beside him.
“This is horrible! I did not need to know that Marietta’s amortentia smells like bloody Cormac McLaggen or whatever his name is,” you hiss in response.
Enzo lets out a quiet chuckle, sneaking a quick glance at your house mate.
“Hey,” he whispers after a moment, “What do you smell anyway? You must be going mad having that stuff all over you.”
You shoot a glare at your friend. You had a sinking feeling he already knew, considering he had been poking fun at you for weeks. You shudder remembering all those disgusting kissy faces Enzo had been making at you from across the library just last week. Bloody bastard was fishing for confirmation. Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll simply go away you think to yourself. Enzo however, takes your silence as an admission of guilt, a grin spreading across his face.
“I knew it. So tell me y/n, what does dear Theodore Nott smell like? Cigarette smoke? Hippogriff dung?” He snickers.
“He is my best friend, Lorenzo,” you whisper, giving the boy beside you another withering glare.
Enzo’s face falls at this.
“I’m your best friend.” He grumbles.
“I don’t know why. You’re mean to me,” you reply with exasperation.
He immediately perks up again at this, giving you a slight nudge.
“So I’m right? You do like Theo?” He asks excitedly.
“Enzo, I will avada you, and make it look like an accident,” you hiss in response.
“Come on, y/n, I’m your best friend, you have to tell me these things,” he pouts.
“Oh really? Like how you have to tell me about how you’re probably smelling Daphne’s shampoo right now? Or is it her lavender perfume?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes.
Enzo goes beet red at this, gesturing wildly at you to lower your voice.
“Hush woman! She’s right there!” He hisses.
You say nothing, only giving him a triumphant grin before turning back to Flitwick to try to salvage what few notes you’d been able to take down that lesson.
The final straw occurred during ancient runes when poor, unsuspecting Hermione sat down behind you and asked with a look of bewilderment if you had been showered with Draco’s cologne that morning. Her look of absolute horror only grew as you told her of your distressing situation. You thought she might faint when she realized that Draco had been within earshot and now had a shit eating grin on his face. With a sigh of defeat, you give Hermione an apologetic smile before deciding it was time to turn in the white flag of defeat.
You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you finally come to a stop outside your common room door. You then frown, realizing you had in fact, made it to your common room door.
“What makes a raven like a writing desk?” The metallic voice of the Ravenclaw common room door asks, springing to life.
This putrid, skanky little-
“You wouldn’t want me to shove either of them up your ars-“
A low whistle catches your attention before you’re able to finish cursing out your common room’s door thoroughly.
“Whoa there feisty, let the eagle be,” Theo’s voice laughs as he steps into view.
The strong scent of roasted coffee beans and smoke that had been burning your nostrils all day hits you once again like a ton of bricks. Giving the eagle another withering glare, you turn your full attention to the looming threat approaching. You would sooner throw yourself off of the astronomy tower than let Theo know that your amortentia smelled like him. Someone had to keep the boy’s bloody ego in check.
“Full offense Theodore, I’ve had a horrendously awful day today, and I really don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re about to start.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms at the boy in front of you.
Theo laughs again, mirroring your movements as he leans against one of the pillars lining the halls.
“Poor principessa. Have a hard day in classes without me?” He asks with a smirk.
You scowl in response. It didn’t help that you had, in fact, missed the brunette’s comforting, albeit annoying, presence all day, but you weren’t about to admit that.
“Now that you mention it, I didn’t even realize you were missing. What snake hole did you slither off to today?” You ask, the lie sliding easily off your lips.
Theo cocks as eyebrow at that but leaves it be.
“Matteo wanted to ditch, had to baby sit. Make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. You know how it goes,” Theo replied shrugging his shoulders. “And what’s a pretty little witch like yourself doing skiving off class?”
Theo takes another step forward.
“Don’t come closer!” You yelp before you can stop yourself. You had no interest knowing what Theo would smell if he got close enough. He frowns at you however.
“And why not?” He challenges, taking another step towards you. This boy really did not take well to being told what to do.
“I- I smell. Really bad. Had to leave class, I just- ya know, smelled, so bad” You splutter, mentally kicking yourself. Who says that in front of the guy they like? Why were you like this?
Theo’s thick brows shoot up at your declaration before he takes a final large step towards you and leans in, pressing his hand against your forehead before moving it down to feel your cheek.
“Y/n are you ill? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? I can walk you there if you’d like.” He says, any bit of snark his voice previously held long gone.
“I’m fine Theodore, really.” you say, batting his hand away.
“Are you sure?” He asks, looking at you disbelievingly.
He leans in again and takes in a whiff of your scent and you immediately tense, freezing where you are. God damn it. His brows furrow.
“Y/n, you smell perfectly normal, maybe a bit stronger than usual, but definitely not bad.” He says, looking even more confused.
Before you’re able to fully process the words that just came out of Theo’s mouth, Enzo and Pansy come barreling down the hall towards the two of you in a fit of giggles.
“Y/n! y/n, you know I’m sorry, really I am, but if dousing you in amortentia is all it takes to get Draco and Granger to make complete fools of themselves in front of each other, I’d do it again!” Enzo exclaims between breathy laughs. “You haven’t seen ferret boy run past, by chance, by the way have you?
“Sorry, amor-what now?” Theo asks, blinking as he purses his lips.
You look between the three of your friends in alarm, praying no one mentioned anything after Theo had just announced that you smelled perfectly normal to him.
“Oh, you’re going to wish you were there! After you left, Draco was so pleased with himself. Looked like a kid on Christmas. Kept trying to flirt with Hermione until she finally sent a flock of doves to run him out of the classroom! Professor wasn’t too happy bout that one. Let us go early to find the blonde loon,” Enzo says, completely ignoring Theo’s question.
“I’m sorry, amor-WHAT?” Theo asks again, louder this time.
You feel yourself cringe.
“Amortentia.” Pansy snorts. “Do try and keep up Teddy.”
“This is what you get for always skiving off class with Matteo,” Enzo adds, nodding at the boy as if he were his disappointed mother.
“Mhmm. Enzo totally floozied over y/n’s potion this morning. Blew it up all over her and she’s been having people wander up to her to take a sniff all day.” Pansy tells him with a sniff.
Theo blinks again before slowly meeting your eyes as what he said only moments earlier begins to sink in. Pansy, ever the cunning witch, was lightening quick to catch on.
“Speaking of which, I am suddenly so interested in what exactly it is that you smell, dearest Teddy,” Pansy says as her eyes flicker between the two of you, a mischievous grin growing on her face.
Theo scowls at the nickname.
“Campfire.”
“Old parchment.” You say in unison.
Pansy smirks.
“Do you smell that Enzo?” She asks, making a show of sniffing the air around her. “I think I smell- a liar. Or two.”
Enzo only snickers as he eyes the both of you up. He knew exactly what you had been smelling all day and you begin to feel panic rise up in your chest. You send a menacing glare his way, daring him to open his mouth.
“Come on Pans, I don’t think Draco and Granger are the only ones who’ll be chatting up tonight,” he says finally.
Glaring at the pair’s disappearing backs, you once again turn slowly back to the problem at hand.
“Soo,” Theo starts at the same time you blurt out,
“This is entirely your fault.”
Theo’s mouth drops open, and he has the audacity to look offended.
“How do you figure mi amore?” He asks.
“You’re supposed to be my partner in potions, but you weren’t there today, so I had to work with,” you shudder, “Enzo.”
Rolling his eyes at your dramatics and giving you a small smile, Theo lets himself relax, leaning on the wall as he towers over you.
“Enzo isn’t so bad,” he says, slowly bringing a hand up to rest on your waist, gently moving you towards him. You pretend not to notice, taking a small, nervous step forward.
“He singed off Matteo’s eyebrows last year. The year before that, he didn’t realize there was a difference between fire flower and fired flour, and his potion melted through the floor. I heard a Puff call him Slytherin’s Seamus,” you retort. “Do you realize how bad you have to be at something to get made fun of by a Hufflepuff?” He snorts at that, cocking his head in agreement.
“Well I’m sorry alright? I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’ll have to. I have to go in again to remake the potion. Don’t want that bad mark on my grade.”
Theo only hums at this, as you’re finally standing nose to chest with him, forcing you to tilt your head up to still see his face.
“You really do smell nice,” he murmurs, pressing his nose lightly into your hair.
You make a face before nuzzling into his chest to hide the redness growing on your cheeks.
“I’m not talking about this in public. I simply refuse,” you say, trying to melt into him from pure embarrassment.
Theo looks down at you with a devilishly handsome grin before turning back to your long forgotten common room door.
“Hey, open up. She technically answered your little riddle earlier,” he tells the door.
The eagle grumbles something unintelligible as it starts to life again.
“I can always melt you down. I’m sure you’d make a great piss pot,” Theo threatens, going to pull out his wand.
The door swings open rather violently and you’re pretty sure you can hear a rather colorful string of curses come out of the eagle’s beak as you make your way inside. Having been there a thousand times before, Theo easily leads you to your shared, but thankfully empty, dorm room, closing the door behind you.
“You really don’t get along with that eagle, do you principessa?” He asks, throwing his shoes off and making himself comfortable on your bed like he usually did.
“Like you’re any better. You just threatened to turn it into a chamber pot,” you retort, falling easily back into your usual banter. This was fine. This was safe.
Theo only raises a brow at you.
“The blasted door is still mad at me for making a ur mum joke when it asked me if a chicken came before the egg in front of a bunch of second years.” You admit, letting your arms fall to your side.
Theo lets out a loud laugh at that shaking his head and extending his arm for you. You walk carefully towards the bed before hesitantly accepting his invitation. It’s not that cuddling with Theo was something unfamiliar to you, as much as you were hyper aware of the slightly awkward tension between the two of you that wasn’t usually there. You slide your shoes off as well before curling up next to him and laying your head on his chest. The two of you lay in silence and you slowly let your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the feeling of Theo’s chest rising and falling.
“You know. You still haven’t told me what your amortentia smells like,” Theo says, finally breaking the silence as he gently brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair.
“Take a wild fucking guess,” you murmur, refusing to open your eyes and determined to get further lost in his warm touch.
He only hums in response, continuing to comb his fingers through the soft locks of hair.
“You know when Enzo asked me if I smelled you today, he thought you’d smell like hippogriff dung,” you say eventually.
“Fucking tosser. What did that git smell? Wild lavender?”
“And Daphne’s shampoo.”
You feel Theo snort as if he expected no less of your ever romantic best friend. Silence once again rolls over the both of you as you absentmindedly play with the edge of his shirt, rolling the soft fabric between your fingers nervously. The quiet begins to feel suffocating, so you open your mouth to speak, but Theo beats you to it.
“Champagne. And that perfume you always use. With the little white flowers. Lilies of the valley, right?” Theo says.
You open your eyes to look at him in confusion.
“That’s what you smell like.” He says, carefully running his hand down your spine, sending a shiver through you.
“I smell roasted coffee. And smoke. Not the fire-y kind though. The kind that sticks to your clothes cause you refuse to quit smoking.” You respond, looking into his eyes warily for his reaction.
Theo only smirks in response, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
“Aw mi amore, I’m what you’re most attracted to?” He asks, the teasing bait evident in his voice.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks as Theo gazed intently down at you in his arms.
“Shut up Theodore. You sure know how to ruin a moment,” you say, once again burying your face in a chest.
You feel his chest rumble with laughter before his hand snakes it way up to your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips with his. His lips are softer than you imagined as he moves them gently against yours. You let a soft gasp escape and Theo pulls you closer, gripping your waste tightly, and shifting you on top of him, deepening the kiss until you’re both left gasping for air.
“Was that more of what you had in mind amore?” He asks with an innocent smile, looking up at you with what you could only describe as his best baby seal eyes.
“I mean, you were definitely significantly more shirtless when I imagined it, but I can settle.” You joke.
Theo’s eyes darken however, and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing, flipping you over so that he now hovered above you, your back pinned against the bed beneath you. With one swift movement, Theo pulls his shirt up and over his head before lowering himself back down, his chest now pressed against yours.
“Better?”
You can’t help but laugh at the boy’s determination as your eyes shamelessly take in the lean muscle and tanned skin that was current above you.
“Theodore, as much as I enjoy this, you have to put your clothes on. Cho or Marietta could walk in at any time,” you tell him as you begin to make soft circles across his waist line with your thumbs, admiring the boy in front of you.
“Mm. You mouth is saying one thing, but these,” he says, placing his hands over yours, “are saying something else entirely.”
You roll your eyes, pulling your hands out from under his and handing him his discarded shirt.
“One kiss?” He asks, looking at the shirt as if it had mortally offended him.
“One kiss.”
He leans down, once again capturing your lips with his, but with more intensity this time. You feel one of his hands brush your waist as his thumb pushes up under your shirt, the rest of his hand following soon after, gripping tightly at the warm skin beneath. You let out a breathy moan when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip, and he takes it as an invitation to let his tongue explore the rest of your mouth.
An awkward cough shakes you from the haze and you look up, over Theo’s shoulder to see Cho standing guiltily in the doorway.
“Sorry,” she says, looking literally anywhere but you and the shirtless boy above you. “Bad time?”
You cover your eyes in embarrassment, feeling heat once again rush to your cheeks.
“What did I tell you!” You groan, letting your head fall back onto your mound of pillows. Meanwhile Theo has a much too self satisfied grin across his face.
#harry potter universe#harry potter#slytherin boys#slytherin#ravenclaw#lorenzo berkshire#theodore nott#draco malfoy#matteo riddle#daphne greengrass#pansy parkinson#fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#theodore nott x reader#how do you write in 2nd person#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theodore nott x y/n
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To Lean On You | Spencer Reid
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.
Word Count: 8.6K
Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other.
A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3
Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:
Hearts by Jessie Ware
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift
Lost Without You by Freya Ridings
In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles
masterlist
79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.
70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.
65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started.
Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.
March 4th, 2017
It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds.
Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost.
Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain.
Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go.
Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.
“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”
You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair.
You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.
“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true.
Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.
“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list.
“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.
“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone.
“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment.
You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”
For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?”
“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.
"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.
All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope���s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him.
“Emily-” she cut you off.
“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.
“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest.
As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.
“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home.
You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico.
His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.
Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to.
“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”
You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other.
You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped.
You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking.
You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes.
You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been.
“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside.
You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore.
And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.
“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud.
“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did.
“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you.
“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.
“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him.
“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her.
“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.
You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.
“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough.
She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier.
“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking.
“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt.
“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.”
“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.
“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off
“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more.
“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again.
“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say.
“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight.
Spencer’s POV
The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight.
In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him.
Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.
He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive.
He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends.
In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in.
Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take?
His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared.
Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you.
He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.
He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.
Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote.
As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?
“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num.
In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same.
“Do what?”
She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card.
“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again.
Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused.
Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different.
For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit.
Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy.
He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.
And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years.
He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt.
Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown.
Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place.
How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.
Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly.
Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one.
Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth.
And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness.
Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.
Your POV
You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine.
You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both.
There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature.
Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt.
It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled.
Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him.
As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.
It’d either make or break you both.
You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.
You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed.
The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that.
Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time.
Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.
You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.
Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out.
Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.
You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure.
He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn.
70 days of slowly killing you both.
When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.
His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.
Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly.
Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over.
89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did.
When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see.
His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over.
One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out.
“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them.
His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms.
Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation.
“That’s not fair.”
You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.
“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now.
If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned.
You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth.
His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.
“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet.
He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face.
“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry.
He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined.
He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to.
He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him.
Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground.
“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.
Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment.
Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of.
The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes.
And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own.
If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much.
And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline.
You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head.
You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him.
He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you.
You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other.
After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand.
It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent.
“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in.
You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again.
“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice.
You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it.
“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto.
You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head.
“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.
“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.
“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to.
And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became.
To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace.
He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.
“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it.
“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real.
“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple.
“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?”
"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you.
Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss.
You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.
“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.
He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time.
“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy.
His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process.
If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices.
A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.
“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.
Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived.
“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours.
He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go.
He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching.
It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together.
Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.
When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.
And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered.
“I love you.”
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𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
part one: stop, you’re losing me || part two: in the trees, in the breeze (here)
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ your memory kept haunting Coriolanus Snow, so he found the way to end his exile. It’s a new era, but the same old feelings between Coriolanus and you keep causing scandals. Although, you are not ready to let go the pain he caused to you.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ Capitol ballerina!reader, angst, drama, violence and death lol, jealousy, unhinged Coriolanus, sex mentions, reader still has health problems, etc. 13k words fic IM SORRY
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ hear this along Can’t catch me now, I’m not an OR fan but I love that song from her. I mean, who didn’t? And thank you for the wait and loveeeee. PLEASE TELL ME OF ANY ERRORS BC I CAN’T BE ALMOST ACCUSED OF BEING TRANSPHOBIC PLEASEEEE
♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)
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Red, blue, red, red, yellow, green, green, pink.
Every color is correctly marked. A nurse smiles with some papers on her hand before she dissapears.
You can get dressed again. The color test was done, your vision was okay.
Purple and green bruises are scattered across your skin. Some appeared on your inner thighs. Two on your knees and one on the ribs from the day you collapsed after the post-Hunger Games celebration. You sigh covering your skin with a long floral dress. The reflection of yourself on the mirror salutes you with a tired, broken and sad face. It makes you force a smile, pretending more people were watching you. The room in empty though.
“Everything is fine. Your body is responding well to the shots.” A doctor asks as soon as he walks in into the room.
“The only thing that worries me is your mental health. Have you been stressed or has anything happened to you that could be considered a traumatic experience?”
The pointe shoes soaked in blood. The unstoppable bleeding on your feet. The late nights with panic attacks and over thinking. That young blonde man and the songbird together. The night on dressing room, how your hand burned after slapping the man so hard. The shock of all the events surrounding your life two weeks ago. How you lost control, your head spinning, blurred vision, heart pounding, numb arms and how you felt the oxygen was leaving. All the things you did for someone who never deserved you, making you shatter, fainting as soon as you finished dancing.
“Miss y/l/n… Are you okay?” The distant voice of the doctor breaks your bubble. You shake your head in disguise before turning away from the mirror, facing him and smiling politely.
“Yes, I’m fine. I was very stressed, yeah. Working with the production of the Hunger Games. My artistic performances, last days at the Academy. It was a lot…” the doctor sighs, annotating something. He then handed you the paper.
“I’m giving you some treatment for that. And please, you have to be careful and calm. Only that way the medicine will help everything to work here” he points his head. You nod, accepting the paper.
After that, you leave the private hospital. Trevor is there, your chauffeur and friend. He smiles, opening the door for you.
“Thank you, Trevor” he starts the car soon after.
“Is everything okay?” You nod, looking at the bright day at the Capitol.
“I just need to relax and eat well.” Trevor had trimmed his hair. It made him look younger, making you smile at the memory of him saying his wife was his hairstylist.
“Good. Oh, I received a call from your mother. This woman…uh, Dr. Volumnia Gaul? She wants to see you at the Univeristy today” you frown to look at him confused.
“Oh? So… Can we go now?” He nods, turning left to start the route. Meanwhile, you wonder what could she want. You made your part, the games had a higher amount of viewers compared to last year. You engaged with the production and the celebration was at full capacity. Your little accident even made it more attractive to the media. Appearing on the papers and magazines across Panem.
And after everything, you still wanted to keep dancing. Or else range would consume you.
…
It’s the first time you step inside the Capitol’s University. It’s very similar to the Academy, but the floor tiles are green and white. There’s a lot of white, cream, golden and black decorating the halls and long stairs.
Since it’s summer, most of the building was empty. Only some of the staff, and very few people who seemed like students. You see they dress very elegant. Some women wore hats with feathers or flowers. The men wore classy suits and you genuinely thought you would fit in.
You couldn’t wait to have some sense of normality as a Univeristy student along Clemensia and Lysistrata. Your only close friends left. Well, also Festus and Sejanus. At the time, you didn’t event know your dear friend was dead.
What seems like the private office of Gaul has a red door. Inside, she had a laboratory, smaller but weirder than the one you had seen before. Full of dissected creatures, tanks and crystal containers with unknown chemicals.
Some steps further and you see her desk, where she is collecting some folders and putting them away in some shelves.
“Glad to see you breathing, miss y/l/n…” somehow you found the humor to smile coldly.
“As you can see.” You reply standing perfectly correct.
“By this point you should know what happened to Mr. Snow” goosebumps make you shake your shoulders slightly, you nod again.
“He was exiled. Twenty years. He lied to me and did not said a thing about cheating on the games”
“Indeed. However this morning, I just discovered he bribed a woman to be sent to District 12.” You bite your tongue to hide your fury. A hot feeling invade your chest in rage. But you just breathe, failing to not show discontent.
“That’s not any of my business anymore.” Even Gaul seems taken aback. However, she doesn’t say anything, she just keeps pulling away the pile of folders.
“Well, since it seems you both parted ways… I must share that I’m deleting any record or data related to the 10th Hunger Games. Too many things happened before, during and after the games. Things that would compromise the reputation of the whole organization. Including me, the Academy, the mentors, you and Mr. Snow” honestly, you don’t know what to say. You just frown slightly, demonstrating how confused you were. But you also understood with half of the context. The death of Arachne, Coriolanus and his odd ways to make his songbird oustand, the rebel attack, Lucy Gray Baird winning from cheat. And the things you didnt know like Sejanus entering the arena.
However, you stick to your parent’s advice. You have to think about you and anyone else.
“I understand. But I did my part. I completed my task so I hope this decision doesn’t jeopardize my grant” she smiles. Dr. Gaul secretly believed that you and Coriolanus Snow could rule Panem together. In a sick and evil way, so she really hoped her dark intentions would work.
“Of course not. We had a deal. The views went up this year. You brought a new vision for the promotion that I’ll hardly let go.” The ambition started tickling you. Making you roll your tongue inside your closed mouth, at the verge of opening it and talking.
“Good.”
“In fact, you would be a nice option to become head of the promotion and relations team.” From the last games, you realized the director only gave instructions but he rarely did the dirty job. You liked having some power over the games. And now, a childish and unjustified resentment towards District 12 made you smile as Gaul offered you a new job.
“Is it a possible option to be working in behalf of my mother’s institution?”
“You’re very smart, y/n y/l/n. You are going further than Mr. Snow” your smile only grows, knowing you are nit being correct. You are letting the rage and resentment to guide you. You will make your last name shine brighter than your parents did. Just to rub it in the face of certain blonde who was now exiled. Probably savoring the country life of District 12.
“I just want to make my family’s name bigger than it already is” the woman giggles, taking out a red envelope and handing it you.
“I assume you’ll pursue the arts as you’re speciality. But if you want to get involved with the production, marketing and relations. You are taking politics and some lessons with me” when you look down at the envelope, the golden logo of the university is greeting you. It’s the admission letter.
“I expect to see you here by the end of the summer” you nod, thanking her.
And as you walk outside where Trevor is waiting for you, you have a cocky smile. Feelings like things could go better. You don’t even remember the doctor’s appointment you were in before coming to see Gaul.
…
Your soft hands gently brush against his forehead. Coriolanus had chills, he hadn’t had fever since he was 15 years old. But your hands are so soft even when they feel cold as ice. He just knows he’s in his bed. In his rottening penthouse. He can see a slightly blurred image of you, wearing a green dress, your hair in a braid, a golden necklace, dark purple lips. He can’t hear your words, but you are talking to him, spreading some cream across his chest, immediately he felt the mint soothing his cough and pain. He must’ve said something funny, because he can now see clearly your face, gorgeous as always. And he can clearly hear you laughing.
Coriolanus wakes up smiling. And he realised he was dreaming.
He was in a small and creaky lower bunk bed. Sejanus sleeping in the upper bunk. The sun hasn’t come up. And he’s a peacekeeper in District 12.
It’s been weeks since he left the Capitol. And since day one, you seem to be haunting him.
Current dreams of you, swearing to be hearing your voice. It makes him want to call you every single day. But he doesn’t. He was able to forget about you when he was in the peacekeeper training and duties. When he was with Lucy Gray any trace of you was gone. But as soon as he had a moment alone, he would remember everyhting about you.
He missed you. Painfully a lot.
Every Friday, he had been sending the letters. He hoped your mother would hand them to you. But Coriolanus knew you too well to know you likely would not be reading them. Nonetheless, he was letting himself to write the most vulnerable pieces of him, putting his heart on each word and phrase. Hoping that by the time his exile was over, you would have forgiven him.
When the sun came up, he was up along the rest of the boys. Sejanus gives him a friendly smile and they’re out exercising and doing jobs all day long. During his break, he’s able to seat in an old bench, with a beautiful view of an open green field.
That’s when he dreams of seeing you there, dancing or simply standing there with a sundress. Like the ones you used to wear on summer when he visited the house your parents had in District 4. He dreams so hard that he swears seeing the skirt of your dress swaying through the trees. And that’s when he knows he’s so fucked up.
But that’s long forgotten after the break is over. And by the night, he’s on the biggest bar of the town. He sees Lucy Gray singing something new. He honestly never understood the meaning behind her songs, but he was enchanted by her do what she loved.
After her live presentation, a big projector was introduced. They started playing the weather with Lucky Flickerman. Which made Coriolanus miss the Capitol so bad.
“They’re probably waiting for some women. That’s why the always start that thing” Lucy Gray said, appearing by his side and pointing at the projector. He smiled at her.
“To see women?” She nodded, grabbing a glass of cold water.
“You know how are men around here” with no tv around, no ostentatious lifestyles, men could get excited with little makeup and satin gowns. Coriolanus was disgusted by many mannerism of the 12. He had heard and seen many disapproving behaviors. But he was happy to be able to find some peace along the songbird.
“Yes, I know. What’s that thing by the way?” When Coriolanus turned around to see the old projector, he almost choked after seeing the big logo appearing.
It was the summer fundraising charity of your mother. Another luxurious gala to help the constructions of the Capitol after war. However, that wasnt the most impressive part for Coriolanus. Seconds after the recovered from seeing something directly related to his past, you appeared in the projector, entering the stage and getting in pose to start a performance.
Lucy Gray Baird was in shock. So if she was surprised, the men all around the bar where cheering and whistling.
There you were, with curled wet hair, metallic bronze makeup, wine lips, golden bracelets on your arms. But it was the attire. A two piece set that let your legs and stomach show off. With bare feet, and two elegant knives, one in each hand. Your cocky smile was back. And it was ruining Coriolanus Snow.
He literally jumped from his seat, leaving Lucy Gray to cross the river of men and properly see you.
She knew you had broken up with him. And that relieved the songbird, as she felt like she could let her feelings for Coriolanus flow freely. But seeing the boy literally hipnotized as soon he saw you, it made her feel uneasy. Deeply she knew that Coriolanus wasn’t over you. And no matter what, you were a sensible subject for him. That not even herself could ever test.
But he kept going. Each step meant hearing them say how good you looked, the places where they’d put their hands on your body. It boiled his blood.
But finally, the dance killed him. Because maybe for the capitol you were still elegant and classy. Their eyes would publicly appreciate your art, and privately let their mind wander with your half naked body. But for people from the 12. It was like throwing a piece of meat to lions in starvation.
With your hips swaying tentatively, pointed feet and letting everyone know how flexible you were. That sassy look on your face that Coriolanus was feeling too personal. It was like you were saying “look what you lost”.
He was used to see you in pastel tutus, hair in a bun. Not this goddess ritual dance type of thing. The music was very different, something very uncommon in Panem. He really wants to punch every man in the room. He sees how most of the women in the bar see your graceful image with disgust. And Coriolanus couldn’t blame them. But it made him remember that he had lost the right to call you his. And that intrusive thought made him automatically think he wanted to go back home so badly.
Your sensual and meticulous steps keep going, the knives making him remember the folk tales of women dancing with sharp objects to show fertility, honor of their kingdom and to seal a man’s faith. Every minute more desperate for Snow, who’s over the edge of hearing men say plenty of things about you. But soon, the music stops with you arched, pointed feet, your curls kissing the stage, the knives perfectly pointing like a clock.
Coriolanus doesnt miss your evil smile. He can sense you are changing. And he remember all the pain he caused you, making him sigh in resignation. His desire of going back for you only growing.
“I’m sorry I left like that” he explains to Lucy Gray. She notices how quick he drank his beer. She was a woman after all, she knew the effect a fine female could have on men. Especially on the man who was their lover. The one that probably hurt her and left her, ending their history in bad terms.
“It’s okay. I told you she was very pretty before” Coriolanus learns that Lucy Gray was not being sarcastic that day at the zoo.
…
It had come to the point where he couldn’t run away from his thoughts. Coriolanus was borderline obsessed with your memory. He constantly wondered how you were doing. He had to ask Tigris every time they talked to see learn anything about you.
For the first time, since he left the Capitol, Tigris shares that she had talked to you.
Coriolanus was surprised to hear that the reason you gave about the breakup was only because he cheated with Lucy Gray.
You didn’t said a word about him the lies, the last argument you two had. You only say that his songbird was special. And that you stopped to be what he needed.
Which was heavily mistaken. Some days before he accepted that you were the only thing he needed to keep going. He imagines a fake scenario where you came to the 12 with him. You find a humble home where you wait till his training is over. The lake where he spent hours with Lucy Gray and The Covey could’ve been hours with you. Talking about anything and everything. He would’ve come straight home to you when the training was over. Make love to you, promise to fight for a higher position, possibly as a commander one day and marrying you. And soon the years would’ve passed, his exile would be over and you would go back to the Capitol with him. Maybe some children along.
But that would never happen. And his delusion was starting to make him find a way to go back where he belonged.
He questioned if his urges where for power, or to get back with the woman he loved.
Whatever the reason was, a lot of people would pay the price. First were the daughter of the mayor and her partner, then the man who had the decency to hide the gun he used to kill those two. Who also happened to be his alleged best friend.
His hands trembling as he pressed to record Sejanus. But he knew there were high possibilities of being heard. And that way, he would go back. He would find you and slowly start again.
The death of Sejanus would haunt him for a long time. He knew he was a close friend of yours, which made him get chills, uneasy to decide what could be your reaction to the news. Either way, it was done. The heavens had to have heard him. He was offered to serve in District 2, gain some money and he could easily take the train to see you if anything.
But Lucy Gray had other plans. And Coriolanus wasnt even sure of what he was doing. Probably in his rambling and panic after everything he went through as a peacekeeper, one side of him wanted to run away and never see back again. To forget about his decisions as a mentor, to forget about his decisions as a peacekeeper and to forget about you. That way he would never have to face all the pain he caused you.
After some hours of walking, Coriolanus should have seen the signs.
“Everyone in the Covey are really good dancers. But I don’t think it’s my thing. I just have my voice…” Lucy Gray said, holding her bag tightly. Coriolanus only smiled, remembering how bad the songbird was when he tried to teach her how to waltz.
“Is it like… exclusive in the Capitol?”
“I think so. Today there’s only one institution, the mother of…” he goes quiet, realizing what he was about to say.
“…y/n?” She asked, almost nervous about mentioning your name. But in reality, she wasnt. After Coriolanus nodded, they just kept walking in silence.
“Her mother founded it?”
“It was her grandmother actually. Mine knew her, and they were kind of friends” he said smiling, trying to look away from Lucy Gray so he couldn’t see him smiling.
Once you leaned Coriolanus was financially struggling some years ago, you ended up visiting him for the first time. That day you learned Grandma’am was friend of your family before your mother was born. And that only made her appreciate you faster. Which made Coriolanus happy. Finally seeing her grandmother to let go the days of the war and any crazy ideas that stayed on her mind. All thanks to you.
“Grandma’am even started planting pink roses for her.” It slipped out automatically, he couldn’t control it.
“She’s like ink…” Coriolanus missed the point. But after some minutes of silence, he understood what Lucy Gray said. Which resulted true. Metaphorically, you were the brightest tint he’d ever seen. He let that ink fall and splash everywhere, leaving stains on him that probably would never leave.
And finally, Lucy Gray Baird fell to her end in the shallow woods. Hunted like a prey. By a broken man who decided to stop being good. Who was losing his mind for the pieces of a woman he let go so easily.
That changes like the destination of Coriolanus.
He’s going back to the Capitol. With tiny sparks of hope. But firmly believing that everyhting was meant to happen like that so he could go back to you.
However, as he came closer, Coriolanus realized he was lost. He had no idea what would await for him. And what version of you would greet him.
…
There isn’t an exact period over the Capitol that can’t be considered as autumn. The summer was practically over, and winter was already happening. Coriolanus had to wait longer than expected to get into University. In the meantime, he accepted the money from the Plinth family. He decided to get ahead of time. He used the last hot days to get Tigris and Grandma’am back to the penthouse. He bought the whole building and in two weeks the whole place was renewed. There was only one thing he couldn’t get rid of. The living room and entrance olive paint you brought. He painted the halls, dining room, studio and kitchen in a dark blue paint. But he wasnt able to get rid of the memories he made with you. His old self was long gone. But he had his supcisions that the version he was for you would never change.
However, he decided to stay afar from the public eye for that month after returning from exile.
Tigris said she hadn’t seen you. But that was okay. He would soon enter to University. He was going to see you there.
Eventually the day came. He gets rid off Casca Highbottom and then he walks towards the big and imposing University of the Capitol. He had a driver now, but he thought it wouldn’t be bad to use the mornings to walk.
In his first hours inside, he has private lessons with Dr. Gaul. Already mentoring him to be a game maker. She kind of suspects he was involved with the sudden death of Highbottom. But for some reason, Gaul has a lot of hopes in him, so she would easily act blind to keep her plans to keep going.
After that, Coriolanus starts looking out for you. He crosses the big seminar rooms and other halls. Until he is able to locate the arts building. It’s smaller but probably the most interesting. With a beautiful barroque facade. As soon as he enters, he sees a group of girls holding large canvas with beautiful paintings on them. Then, some steps later he spots two guys trying to carry a sculpture. Coriolanus believes that kind of modern art was the future of the Capitol. He had to admit the arts building was fully alive, he even forgot he was still at the university.
Coming down from some stairs, he sees two girls. A red haired and a tanned with black leotards and floral skirts are giggling. They seems like dancers, he doesnt think twice. He’s already approaching the girls.
“Excuse me, ladies. Do you know by any chance where I can find y/n y/l/n?” The girls look cheekily at each other, before smiling at him. Which makes Coriolanus wonder what type of rumours had been flowing around about you and him. Since mostly everyone knew the last Snow heir was dating the daughter of the kings of Panem´s television industry.
“She’s rehearsing a class for new students. It’s on the second floor, you’ll hear the music…” he thanks the tanned girl before going upstairs.
She wasn’t lying. He started hearing the classical piano music. He can hear some distant and low cheering. The whole floor is full of dancers. It’s a long hall, to the right, a big studio, with a classical mural, chandeliers and the most giant mirror he’d ever seen.
The people outside the studio see him with curiosity. But he only has eyes for the ballerina dancing all across the studio.
There you are, with a coral tutu, baby pink leotard and thighs. Your pointe shoes seem new. Your cheeks look so pink and your smile is there.
He has to understand that you have become popular enough to have your own fans. Some rumors said that your mother was offering master classes at the University. And he couldn’t help but think how much your family’s name have growth since he left.
He lost count of many turns you did, but you finish cleanly, offering a beautiful view of your tutu wadding. He can’t stop smiling.
People start a round of applauses. He debates whether to get closer or not. He doesnt have any speech prepared. He doesn’t know what to say to you.
“Coriolanus?” When he turns around, he sees Clemensia Dovecote there. Her old study buddy looked older, but not in a bad way. He saw the scales on her skin. But he didnt had to ask, he knew it was because of the rainbow snakes. It just seemed weird to see her short sleeves but turtleneck, rather than her trying to cover all of her face.
“Clemensia” he greets her. Clemmie was probably your female best friend. It wasnt a surprise that suddenly the woman seemed to dislike him.
“Since when you returned?” He looks back at you again. As the music keeps playing, he just smiles. He know the way things would now work. With no how are you questions or anything like the past.
“Some weeks ago.” Clemensia looks like she’s analyzing every movement and word of him.
“Why are you here?” Her hostile tone only makes Coriolanus to act more relaxed than he already is.
“I made the promise to come back for y/n…” the woman stares at him, probably taken aback.
“She doesn’t need this, Coriolanus. She can’t have this” Clemensia had visited you at the hospital. She learned most of his lies towards you. She knew you didn’t deserved to fall again. And especially not because of him.
“I know, Clemmie. I won’t be a burden for her” the music stops, and Coriolanus decides that it’s not time to talk to you yet. So he smiles once again to Clemensia.
“I hope so. Because you already failed her once…” his smile drops. Clemensia dissapears to get inside the studio. Coriolanus stares at you one last time, before he silently walks out.
…
Before you can reach your glass of posca, a porcelain plate with your food slides on the way. A soft piece pile of fried little steaks, with melted cheese and a golden sauce of mushrooms dripping. Your stomach churns and it makes Clemensia laugh.
She had a salmon fine cut with caviar and other exotic stuff. It was a beautiful afternoon to have dinner at one of the most elegant restaurants of the Capitol Downtown.
“Bless your food.”
“Bless your food” you reply back to her.
“So, How it went the rehearsal?” You roll your eyes giggling.
“It was great, until the girls taking the masterclass appeared to see me” your father was right. After working in the production of the 10th Hunger Games, many doors opened for you. Splendid career opportunities here and there. Only that you didn’t enjoy a lot of attention.
“Are they still at the Academy” you nod.
“Rich girls who can make their parents pay the classes of course” Clemensia smiles, drinking a little bit before getting back to eat.
“Coriolanus was looking for you…” you literally stopped eating. You almost drop your fork, but you decided to hold it firmly.
“What?”
“Apparently he’s back.” She reveals. Making you close your eyes in panic.
“How? He was exiled” you say whispering. Clemmie shrugs.
“Gaul. He’s her pupil star. And with Dean Highbottom dead now…” it must’ve been great for Coriolanus to learn the man was gone. Always putting him in the lowest, it was a mark for change.
“Doesn’t matter, I won’t let this get into my way” she smiles.
“What about what your father said?” During a late lunch, you had been talking with your parents, revealing that you broke up with Coriolanus because he cheated. Your mother was shocked, but soon she joined your father to give a twisted advice. He asked if you still loved him. You answered you weren’t sure.
Then I suggest you to proceed to ignore him. Soon you’ll learn his intentions if he ever comes back. Play with him a little. Show him that nobody will laugh in the face of family like ours. Let your hands get dirty, but never show this insecurity you’re talking about.
From that day, you still wake up every morning without knowing how you actually feel about Coriolanus Snow. You know you can’t just simply forget about all the things you did with him. But you firmly pretended that he was in the past.
“I still don’t know how I feel about him.”
“Are you still in contact with his family?” You remember Tigris and Grandma’am.
“Not as much as I used to”
“Mhm. Did they ever learned what happened?” You sigh.
“Just that he opted to choose the songbird before me. And I know Tigris has her own opinion. I just never gave her the opportunity to share it.”
“With him back… probably you’ll find out sooner than later” Clemensia admits, leaving you thinking for the rest of the dinner.
Turns out that you are not ready to find out yet.
…
The first time you see him, it’s at the gardens of the University. You had lunch and wanted to have a brief walk. Through a maze of flowers and plants, you spot him on a bench. He’s very concentrated reading a book. Your eyes widen, seeing how much different he looked. The posture, the clothes, the hair, the cold look.
Something notoriously changed. And you have your suspicions. It wasn’t a coincidence that Sejanus was gone, and Lucy Gray Baird had dissapeared.
You mourned the death of Sejanus one week. You send your condolences to his parents at the funeral. And that night you can’t help but cry on your pillow. Wondering why had life slowly turned dark. In a matter of months you had experienced things you never thought you would. You lost people, you had your first heart broken. You had lost the will to do much things. But, you had to keep going. And you felt guilty, because you thought you had no right to feel like your life was hard, just for being Capitol. The districts struggled more. However, it’s not on your power to mend their lives. Just as it’s not their case to judge your life.
And now, seeing Coriolanus so firm, so calm, it makes you doubt. Sensing that there must’ve been something off about him. Something bad, like all the things he did and hid from you.
You pretend you’re looking for some papers in your bag when you walk past him. He doesn’t see you though, and you thank it.
A couple of days later, you hear for the first time the rumours about him courting Livia Cardew. It makes you feel depressed. You cry out of anger as soon as you get home.
And to your dismay, the first thing you see after turning into a room for the politics class, it’s them. Coriolanus Snow is talking to Livia just beside the door.
That’s the first time you two look at each other again. He sees the anger, discontent and so much resentment. You see the questioning, curiosity and admiration in his eyes.
Nothing else is said because you break the gazes, you walk inside the room with your head high, and your presence is so evident that even Livia has to look at you. Taking too much time to see your beautiful heels.
A week later, you are having a good time with your friends. Festus and Lysistrata are there with you and Clemensia. You are talking all about the upcoming winter gala held at the biggest auditorium in the Capitol. Everyone is excited because it’s the great opportunity to make contacts and eat the most delicious food.
“Is your mother inviting Coriolanus?” Lysistrata asks with curiosity. You roll your eyes at the subject.
“I hope not. I haven’t even spoken with him ever since he came back” everyone knew you had broke up with him. But only Clemensia knew the details.
“Well, apparently he is courting Livia now” Festus mocks, making everyone laugh. Not that any of you had something personal against Livia. But she wasn’t the most brilliant star at the Academy. Now not certainly at University.
“Why Livia?” Clemmie asks laughing.
“Perhaps it’s becase how naïve she is”
“Or because of her father’s inheritance” you add.
“I don’t think so. He’s now the heir of the Plinth fortune” Festus remarks with dessaproval, which makes you feel angered.
“He’s dancing on Sejanus’ grave” your words create some minutes of silence for your late friend. Even when Festus and Lysistrata had made fun of him for being District and the ways of his parents to go up, at the end, they were friends. And now his absence had created a void.
“Ambitious and annoying. Just like his father…” Lysistrata comments sipping on her glass of water.
“How unfortunate. If he had stayed with you, we wouldn’t be talking bad things about him behind his back” you sigh at Clemensia’s words.
“Speaking of the king…” when you look past Lysistrata seated on her chair, you spot Coriolanus. He was wearing a dark grey suit, he looked so fine you had to admit. But soon you look away, the sudden memories of your last days with him haunt you.
After spotting his old friends and ex lover in a table at the cafeteria, he start walking towards there. Trying to make his first moves to go back to normality.
“Yeah. He would’ve been seated beside me right now. But he consciously choose the songbird before me. At least he’s refining himself a little bit with Livia” your friends turn to look at you in shock after the revelation, Clemmie only rises her brows as she sips her water silently, hiding her smile. By the time Coriolanus arrives the table, you’re gone and he curses himself for not walking faster. Festus and Lysistrata are shocked, making him furrow his brows in confusion.
“Did I missed something?” He asks.
“You had an affair with your tribute?” Lysistrata asks back in disgust. Coriolanus sees Clemensia giggling in silence with her head down. Probably enjoying his embarrassment.
His silence meets the requirement for an answer. One that they take as yes.
“And now y/n knows about you and Livia” Coriolanus frowns ever deeper after looking at Clemensia.
“There’s no Livia and I” He responds firmly. Even disgusted to her his name along the least smart girl of his finances class.
“Oh but everyone believes so. That you’re courting her…” he rolls his eyes, annoyed.
“I’m just talking to her because we’re partners for some stupid research paper” the silent sipping on their drinks at the same time is ridiculous to Coriolanus. He just stares at them annoyed.
“Do me a favor and leave her alone, Coriolanus. You were gone to go to your nobody girl from 12, but I stayed and saw her struggling in that hospital bed” Clemensia speaks confidently. Making the blonde to feel threatened.
So he realises that maybe you could have feelings for him still. And that this rumors could have weight on you. He curses himself. Even without realizing, he’s still hurting you.
“I won’t lose the girl twice, Clemmie. Have a good day” he says with a fake smile before leaving the table in shock.
He had to quicken the pace of his proximity with you. He had to make you see he never stopped caring for you.
…
There’s a shattering mess of broken glasses. You quickly move away from the crime scene, looking for your pills, immediately swallowing two.
Your mother’s assistant opens the door, asking for you with concern.
“Is everything okay, miss y/n?” You turn to look a the woman.
“I accidentally threw the jar. Sorry…” Millie is in her mid thirties. She was your mother’s confidant, and slowly yours too. She sees the news paper in the floor, half of it drenched from the broken jar that had water. She can see the title, The Snow heir tights the knot with the Cardew family?
“I’ll call the maids. Don’t worry” she says looking back at you.
“Thanks Millie.” She smiles, closing the door behind.
You breathe loudly, sighing in stress. Of course you had purposely thrown the water jar because of the news paper. A portrait picture of Livia is placed perfectly aligned with one of Coriolanus. Between some paragraph there’s your name too. But you don’t dare to see why.
You may pretend to be okay to the public eye, but you’re still drowning in the same feelings you got after Coriolanus Snow revealed his lies to you.
It’s almost like if he was still mocking you. Showing everyone how easy he had played with you. And how easy he got rid of you.
Someone had to pay. No, not someone, he. He, himself, Coriolanus Snow had to fail. Only that way you would feel slightly better. Only that way your tears would stop being for him.
The first chance you had, you would take it.
…
While you loved pursuing a dancing career along the production stuff. You still had some duties regarding politics and economy. Which is why you ended up at the submissions office so early in the morning. To send a petition.
You end up at at a messy office. A man is there, moving folders and other type of papers. There’s three baskets that can clearly be read as; approved, denied, pending.
However, you quickly look away to smile at the man who’s sitting behind the chair.
“Good morning.” Your smile is contagious to everyone. The man replies with a warm greeting.
“Good morning, miss y//l/n. How can I help you?”
“I was wondering if you could hand me a petition form to send” he nods, standing up, leaving the mess of papers behind.
“I can, just let me go and print the form. It won’t take too long…” you smile again, letting him go outside the office.
As you wait, you start seeing the racks of boxes and more boxes filled with yellow and lined papers.
Your curiosity grows, making you look at the baskets on the desk.
You see at first glance some graduation petitions, letters, etc. You are still curious to see why some papers where pending. So you look at the door one last time before diving into the papers. You don’t know the first students mentioned. Until you see the third yellow folder, where you can see a white strip with black letter saying Coriolanus Snow.
You open the folder, seeing what it was all about. A petition to start a political campaign at the age of 19. You frowned. He was good at writing. Even with letters he had some charm. But you know he never beated you to be precise and delicate. You always heard Grandma’am saying he would one day be president. But you never seriously discussed it with him. Now you know it was real. And you can’t help but feel an enormous amount of remorse.
He doesn’t deserve it. He had lost everything once, but the way he was earning everything was through breaking you, and probably others you’ll never knew about. Even when it would make Tigris and Grandma’am happy, you slip the folder into the basket of denied. You don’t feel nothing as you do it.
In fact, you offer the sweet man a smile when he comes back with the form for you. You thank him and then walk out.
…
Coriolanus swears he didn’t intend to bump into your father at the bank. Your father was a frivolous man, but since he knew him, he greeted Coriolanus with respect.
The blonde was taken aback when he invited him to have dinner at your house. And he couldn’t say no.
Your house is the same. At least from the outside, because inside, there’s more color. Coriolanus sees your mother. And she offers him a smile before he leans to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Coriolanus, look at you. You look very handsome!” His cheeks warm, as your father giggles, handing his coat to a maid.
“I ran into him at the bank. Where’s y/n, dear?” Your mother laughs, rolling her eyes.
“That girl. I haven’t seen her out of her room since midday” the sudden sound of your heels gets noticed.
“I’m here” you say, coming down the stairs, putting some earrings on. Coriolanus notices the grey dress and black heels along the red tights. A diadem on your head and a bright smile that soon dissapears as you spot him in your house.
“Look who I found earlier” you sigh, standing straight.
“I see…” Your parents can see the way you correct your posture, showing how uncomfortable you are.
“We’re having dinner…” you ignore Coriolanus and his deep gaze on you.
“I can’t stay for dinner. I have rehearsals and I promised Clemmie to go to her birthday dinner party” they exchange looks. And Coriolanus is at the verge of smiling at the way you are making up an excuse to leave. Running away from him.
“Are you meeting with Jan before?” Coriolanus head almost pops to look at your father. And you don’t know if you should smile. Jan was your dance partner, he would dance with you at the gala. He was older, very handsome. And you wished he wasn’t off limits from you. Because you easily could admit your attraction towards him.
“Can you at least stay for some drinks?” You shrug at your mother, accepting your purse from a maid. You ignore Coriolanus and his way of looking at you, almost petrified.
His head was spinning, he needed to know who the hell was Jan.
“Unless you want me to do horrible at the Winter Gala, no. I cannot stay, mother” she sighs, tilting her head towards your father. He understands, your father was the one who convinced you to ignore Coriolanus and play with him.
“Well, that’s fine. Just be polite and say goodbye to Coriolanus.” You nod, watching them leave inside the long corridor to enter the dinning table.
You remain quiet, looking down at your purse to avoid his eyes.
“You look lovely” he says, breaking the ice.
“Thank you.”
It’s the first time you two talk since months ago.
“I heard you want to start your political campaign” you opt to pretend you are okay and you can face him with confidence.
“I did. But the idiots of the council rejected my essay. Guess it’ll give me more time to focus on university.” You nod, grabbing a pair of gloves from inside the purse. You want to smile so badly. He would never know you were the reason of his failed first steps in the politic of Panem.
“Anyways… How you’ve been?”
“I’m fine, Coriolanus.” the way you sound tired. Like tired of him makes him uncomfortable. But he tries to keep his best smile too.
“Who is Jan?” He asks almost too seriously. You smile politely at him
“No one of your business, Snow” you calling him by his last name takes him very aback.
“You know, I just hoped that… you know. Maybe we could start off again… like friends of course” you giggle, lowering your head. He frowns confused.
“Miss y/n, Trevor is waiting in the car for you” the butler say appearing from the side door, you thank him and he leaves again.
“I don’t think there’s a way to start again. You already failed me once, Coriolanus.” You admit, putting on the gloves with a bittersweet smile on your face. You turn to pat his cheek, and he swears he’s about to melt. He lounged for your touch since the moment he left you at the hospital. He closes his eyes, hoping to slow down time and felt your cold touch.
But you move away your hand. He opens his eyes and sees you putting the last pair of the gloves on. You walk towards the door.
“You know where the dinning table room is.” And with that, you are gone.
…
Your father gave him the green light to court you again. Coriolanus had to swear that he would never cause you any type of pain, or else, your father would destroy his career before it officially started.
That was more than enough for him. Since that day, slowly, he had been greeting you almost every day, at Univeristy and when you ecountered him and Tigris in a furniture store. You personally invited her to the Winter gala, and Tigris agreed to not share the news about the invitation. But to the young Snow woman, it was a surprise that your father had already invited Coriolanus to the gala.
Soon the day came. As usual the gala opened with the performance of an specific play, than everyone celebrated in the hall with fine dining, and everyone gossiped as auctions happened. It had been a couple of weeks, very busy ones. Probably it was even more important than the arts gala on March. But for this special occasion you had rehearsed a lot to be an elegant black swan.
You smile at your own reflection at the mirror, the black tutu was gorgeous. The crown you had to use was very intriguing. And the black makeup made you feel very confident.
“I came as soon as I could” Clemensia suddenly opens the door of your dressing room. She looks agitated, but she looked amazing on a beige dress and her hair in half ponytail.
“You look very pretty” she thanks you.
“But look at you. You are going to be amazing.” She sits and both start gossiping.
“Your father invited Coriolanus.” It makes you roll your eyes tired. But you are having a heartache.
“I’m… not sure if I don’t feel anything about him” Clemmie leaves her glass of champagne.
“The newspaper rumour affected you. Right?” Slowly, you nod. Too embarrassed to look at her in the eye. But Coriolanus had been really good. He smiled at you at any chance he could. Some days he would join you and your friends and he was fun, you had to bite your tongue to avoid giggling. And Clemensia had seen it too.
“I can’t blame you. I was there since the beginning…” your friend had seen the courting, the first awkward hand holding, how you two formed a strong connection. And Coriolanus left you at the hospital.
“You two had a beautiful bond. And he broke it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t miss him” Clemmie goes to hug you.
“Pa’ said to keep playing with him, to ignore him. But I’m tired, I just want to heal” she nods, letting you hide your face on her shoulder.
“You want my advice?” You nod.
“Do not force anything. Be polite to him, but avoid giving him any chance yet. As you heal, you’ll find the answer; if you should let him have another chance or not”
A man knocks. When Clemensia opens the door, he receives a bouquet of white roses.
You could recognize those roses anywhere. You get closer, taking the attached note.
Grandma’am and Tigris didn’t know what flowers to cut.
Good luck.
You try to hide your smile. But it’s impossible.
…
The whole place is full. Coriolanus takes a seat with Tigris besides.
“I talked with her yesterday. She said she was very nervous about this one” Tigris says. Coriolanus knows she’s talking about you.
“She’s always perfect, she shouldn’t feel nervous.” His mind was only thinking about Jan. He did his research. And learned he was a former dancer of your mother’s institution. It made him mad.
“Have you thought about inviting her to have dinner?” Coriolanus shakes his head.
“Not yet, I haven’t talked enough to her”
“Well, hurry up. Grandma’am wanted to see you married by the age of 20” she says laughing. But it doesn’t make Coriolanus smile.
“Oh look, it’s starting” Tigris squealed with excitement. The curtains lifted and the show started.
For the first twenty minutes, he’s so bored. Nothing exciting happens. He thinks the white swan is boring. And for the first time, he meets Jan. It makes him feel jealous.
It only worsened when you appeared on stage. Your black attire makes him go mad. He had never seen you in anything like that. He gets very invested in your scenes. He feels the emotion you are trying to project. Sassy, cheeky and attractive. You succeed to him.
Unfortunely, Jan had to appear too. And Coriolanus has to sigh, dealing with the scene of the man holding you to make you gracefully spin. The music doesn’t help, it holds the sense of you and Jan dancing together. Coriolanus knows dancing has a lot to do with acting. But he doesn’t enjoy the looks of lust and desire between you and your partner. The worst part? He had to seat and watch it for at least fifteen minutes.
His head malfunctions. But he already is telling Tigris he needs to the restroom.
It’s a lie. He goes to the dressing rooms. And his luck was so big that he found the one with the name of Jan. He slowly made his way inside. The place was so old that he didn’t need to check for security or anything, but he wanted to make sure nobody would see him in real time.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to accomplish, but surely he wanted to get rid of the man who apparently had your attention now. Your mother had said you and Jan worked very well. And now, with him seeing the performance, he was more than sure he couldn’t let it move forward.
His hand went to his pocket, and his eyes widened. He felt the little glass tubes of narcotics. The same he used to kill Casca Highbottom.
He thought about it just for a little. Was it worth it? Getting rid of a man just to have easier access to you.
Maybe.
Then he questioned how bad he wanted you back. Coriolanus had missed you since day one. He knew he would never love anyone else. He knew no one would treat him as you once did.
So he poured the liquid from one of the tubes inside the water flask resting on the vanity. And before leaving, Coriolanus slipped two more tubes inside the bag that contained Jan’s clothes.
“You took very long at the restroom” Tigris tells her cousin when he came back.
“There was a long line”
…
This time, is different. You smile and you can hear the big round of applauses as you make reverence to go off from stage. You were the last one and the curtains came down finally.
Once you are free, you have all the time in the world to breathe. Other dancers and production staff members congratulate you. But it’s Coriolanus Snow the one who makes you frown confused. He was backstage, looking at you with a soft smile. His classic black suit makes you go back and remember about the Reaping ceremony. How happy that day initiated, and how bad it turned out.
“Coriolanus.” You greet him, he can see a tiny smile on your face.
“You were amazing. As usual, of course”
“Thank you. And for the flowers, they were gorgeous. As usual, of course” he’s so surprised that you were talking to him with some humor sense. Both of you laugh and it feels… warm, and natural.
“It’s nothing. But.. perhaps we could just sit together at dinner?” Your cheeks warmth. You think about your confusing feelings, what your father and Clemensia respectively said. Sitting with him once wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Yeah, we could.” He smiles, and even when his hair changed, his deeper voice. For some seconds you can see the boy you once loved.
And he almost feels like he was seventeen again. Watching you dance backstage, ready to greet you with a kiss. He sees the girl who helped him so much. And he just know all the horrible things he’d done were worth it.
“I-…” but his words stay lingering in the air. Both of you hear a female scream. Coriolanus and you exchange looks before starting to walk where the sound was heard. In the corridor of the dressing rooms you see a woman lingering to an open door. Immediately you recognize it’s Jan’s room. You quickly make it there, through the pain of your caged foot inside the pointe shoe. Coriolanus goes behind you, already sensing the scene inside.
He hears you gasp in shock, covering your mouth and tears forming on your eyes.
You are in shock, you sob, unable to blink.
Jan is on the floor, pale and blood on his mouth. He’s dead.
And as much as the scene shocks you, you are trained to entertain the Capitol, so you turn to them random woman.
“Go and find Millie. Tell her about this and do keep your mouth shut. Nobody can know beside my parents. Understood?” You indicate the woman with a broken voice. She nods in horror dissapearing through the corridor. When she leaves you can finally cry.
When you don’t know what else to do, you are holding onto Coriolanus Snow. You find comfort on his chest. And he immediately holds you back.
As much as you hate to admit it, you feel you are home in his arms.
With one hand, he closes the door of the dressing room and returns to completely be there to hug you. He smiles, knowing he’s already slowly winning.
Because when your parents find out what happened, they make you put a cute black and green velvet gown with crystals. They make you pretend nothing happened and you sit with Coriolanus and Tigris. Ignoring the upcoming rumors, and certainly not respecting the sudden death of Jan.
…
Two days later, Coriolanus finds you seating on a bench. You are eating a sandwich, looking lost. He takes a seat beside you.
“I’m sorry about Jan. It happened so suddenly” he doesn’t feel sorry. Opposite of what he felt about Sejanus and Lucy Gray. However, he firmly believes it was the only way.
“He was a wonderful man. A devoted dancer, with principales. He had a wife in District 3.” Coriolanus coughs. He wasn’t expecting that. That little detail wasn’t on his research. Something twisted inside him, but he still didn’t regret or felt sorry.
“He didn’t seem the type to use narcotics…he must’ve been very stressed out” you add. Oblivious that you are talking with Jan’s murderer.
“Are you sure you are okay?” You roll your eyes sighing.
“No. I’m not okay, Coriolanus. Not since that cursed Reaping ceremony day”
“I’m just trying to be here for you” he admits, and it’s your breaking point.
“WHY DO YOU CARE NOW? YOU FAILED ME WHEN I MOST NEEDED YOU!” He looks around to see if anyone was around. But the place is empty.
“I know I committed many errors but-“
“BUT NOTHING, CORIOLANUS.” You spit out with such anger, that makes him frown.
“You violated the trust, loyalty, respect and love we had for each other. You dissapear after making me have a damn breakdown. Only to go after that girl. And now you appear trying to mend things?” You won’t tell him about his denied petition and what you did. You just want to share all you couldn’t before at his face.
“Do you know how many doctor appointments I’ve had since you left?” He looks down.
“Twelve. And I have to swallow four different pills every day. Only to stay sane. And who’s fault it is? The hunger games, the galas, dancing, Lucy Gray Baird. But specially, you” when he looks up at you again, you are crying.
“If you really want to be here for me, you need to stay away and leave me alone.” You finall state, looking at his blue eyes one last time, before standing from the bench and walking away.
That wasn’t your day. Neither the following ones. Your pointe shoes died and your size was out of stock. The food took such a long time. Your parents left to have an audience in District 1 and your evening was to listen to music and cry.
But certainly what broke you once again was a phone call.
“Hello?” You answer.
“Y/n?”
“Tigris?” You ask. Her voice sounding worried.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Is everything okay? You sound alarmed, dear” you are able to hear her sighing.
“It’s Grandma’am. She’s sick. Coriolanus is busy at the Univeristy and the doctor I requested hasn’t appeared” your heart beats faster.
“She has a strong fever and it’s been like that for hours.” She adds, finally sounding more worried.
“Tigris, calm down. I’ll call my cousin, he’s one of the most prepared doctors around. I’m going there with you in the meantime” you reassure her, already taking off your nightgown and taking out a dress and coat from your closet.
“Thank you, y/n. I truly appreciate this, thank you.” You hang up after saying everything was going to be okay.
…
You see how changed is the penthouse. Fully renovated, with bright lights that contrasted the dark blue wallpapers. But you find interesting how the olive paint you brought is still there. And your portrait from the day of your eighteen birthday is still with the family pictures.
You wait outside the room of the elder woman, as your cousin is checking Grandma’am. You have to hold the urge from biting your nails. A maid offers you posca, but you can’t think about drinking at the time.
The front doors opens and seconds later, Coriolanus is there. He seems surprised to see you there. Since the day of your argument, he hadn’t see you. He tried calling you but your butler said you were out for the weekend to your grandparents house.
“Y/n?” He asks, dropping his coat on a chair.
“Tigris called me. She wanted a doctor for your grandmother” he worried a bit.
“Is she not feeling better. When I left she seemed better…” he says hurrying to go to her room, but you stop him, grabbing by his forearm.
“Don’t. My cousin is already there with her. I’m waiting for the results” Coriolanus only stares at you. He wants to smile. You came only to help his family once again.
“You look very lovely” you smirk, looking at his window with your arms crossed.
“Really? Your grandmother is sick and you are here saying how lovely I look today?” He smiles.
“You told me to wait. What else can I do?”
“How cynical of you” you respond coldly. After all you told him, he was acting like it never happened.
The door of the room opened and Tigris came out with your cousin.
He revealed Grandma’am was having a little difficulties in her lungs, which made her prone to catch a flu. He gave her some strong medicines and promised it would be fine with some days of resting.
After some minutes, you are also ready to leave.
You say good night to the Snow cousins and leave.
“Y/n. Wait…” Tigris comes out. Stopping you some feet away of the now working elevator.
“I-… Thank you.” She slowly says hugging you.
“It’s nothing, Tigris. I told Coriolanus once I would always help the people I love” Tigris suddenly feels so sad to hear you say that. She really hoped you and her little cousin had a different ending.
“He still loves you so much.” You fight harder against the tears when she says that.
“I know. And I still love him too. But… he never apologized. And I’m not ready to let go my resentment towards him.” You admit looking away.
“Although things did’t work out for you and Coriolanus, I really appreciate and care for you, y/n” se almost whispers in your ear. And your eyes water.
“I feel the same, Tigris. I really do” you reply slowly, controlling your voice to not sound cracked.
“I’ll come back in some days” she nods.
She lets you go and you finally head out. Not noticing that Coriolanus heard everything.
He never apologized.
That night, you are reading on the living room when your butler walks in.
“Coriolanus Snow is asking for you in the telephone” you thank him, walking bare feet towards the kitchen telephone.
“Yes, Mr. Snow?” You ask.
“I just wanted to thank you for coming today. You didn’t have to and yet you appeared here” you sigh.
“Whatever that happened between us has nothing to do with my relationship with Tigris and your mother” now he sighs, from his office, in complete darkness.
“About that y/n…” your hands go numb, and panic floods you.
“You don’t know how much I’m-“
“I know.” You interrupt him, cracked voice and you hang up.
“Sorry” he says through the dead line.
That night, you read his letters. The ones he sent when he was a peacekeeper at the 12. Where he seemed to have projected his more vulnerable and emotional side of his heart. Maybe he had been drunk, maybe Lucy Gray wrote them for him. You’d never know, and you preferred to ignore the idea of him actually feeling sorry.
…
A week later you’re applauding for Grandma’am as she sings for you. You smile, changing her pillow case and complementing how much of a sweet voice she had.
It’s getting late, and you must return to your house.
After wishing Grandma’am sweet dreams, you carefully close her door and you walk with the old pillow case away.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Tigris asks with a sweet smile, taking the pillow case from you. Coriolanus is seated, drinking something as he carefully looks at you. You ignore him.
“I must decline, dear. I have to go back and pack some things” she frowns, stopping to put some plates on the dinning table.
“Pack?”
“Yes. I think I’ll spend the holidays at District 1. My mother is opening a new studio and she’s going to need help. And well, if everything goes right, I might even stay there” Tigris almost drops the pillow case. And Coriolanus almost chokes on his drink.
“What? Why?. What about university? The galas? Your production job for the hunger games” you shrug with an honest smile.
“Lately the Capitol life has... it has been a burden. I want to live a peaceful life. I want to heal” Tigris sends daggers with her eyes to Coriolanus. He coughs, uncomfortable.
“CORIOLANUS!” Grandma’am calls the man, you only sigh. And slowly, he stands up to to the woman. He hears you keep talking with Tigris. And he wants to do something to stop you from leaving. Now he can give you the life he couldn’t before.
“Is everything alright, Grandma’am?” The elder woman looks at him from her bed.
“Are you really letting that young woman to walk away again?” Coriolanus frowns.
“What?”
“You’ve heard me.” Even in her sick days, she was firm.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Grandma’am shrugs.
“I don’t think so. Her eyes shine sadly at every mention of you. She was part of the family after all.” Coriolanus remains quiet. But he admits to himself that’s what he missed the most.
“I think she always waited for an apology. One that never came.” His heart pounds very fast. He tried, and you hung up.
“What do you suggest me to do?” Grandma’am smiles, coughing tiredly.
“You run to wherever she goes and beg on your knees. One time you show her vulnerability and you’ll never do it again. We, women, only want real love, stupid love. You show her that stupid love once and you can silently do it for the rest of your again”
“You already won the money and respect. You’re just missing out the girl” Coriolanus sweats, but when he turns to look at her grandmother again, she nods, reassuring him.
“Go. Get her back, Coriolanus” without saying anything back, he leaves.
When he enters the dinning room, he only sees two plates of food. He looks at Tigris confused.
“Where’s y/n?” She shrugs, taking a seat.
“She just left.”
Coriolanus runs. He actually runs out of his penthouse and when the elevator starts taking to much time, he decided to choose the stairs as his getaway. He feels sweaty and agitated, but as he goes down, he can’t help but feel slightly happy, the adrenaline of making it on time make him hurry.
“Y/N!” He yells your name once he makes it to the lobby, where he can see you turning back to see him.
You are waiting for Trevor when he appears running towards you.
And before you can even blink or breathe, he gets on his knees.
“Coriolanus Snow. What are you doing?” You ask confused and blushed.
“I’m sorry.” He says.
“I’m sorry about all the stupid things I did. I’m sorry about letting you down. I’m sorry for ruining our relationship. For letting you in that hospital bed and return to do everyhting but apologize to you” you look at him perplexed, not believing his words.
“I can’t lose you again. Because I know you’re the last and only person I’ll love. I won’t trust anyone else. And nobody would have ever looked down at me like you did when I had nothing” you sigh, feeling the tears coming again. You know he’s not lying. You knew him so well that you sense it.
“If you let me. To give me another chance, I’ll do things right. I will never fail you again in life. You’ll be the only person I’ll cherish and show love.” He offers you his hand, and he looks very suppliant.
You blink quickly to soothe the tears. And you know he doesnt deserve you. But aren’t the best person, so maybe you two were actually meant to be together.and that’s the only viable reason to why you want to let your heart freely beat for him again.
“Please don’t go, y/n” he whispers, waiting for your answer. You sigh, slowly and shaking, but you end up taking his hand.
“You’ll better be the most perfect lover of the history of Panem, then” he wraps your fingers together, and stands up.
“I promise, I swear” he knows the memory of Lucy Gray would always follow him. As well of all the deaths he had caused. But nothing compared to the joy of him kissing you again.
Your lips welcome him in the most sweet way. And he finds himself smiling through the kiss, gently holding you closer to him.
It’s in the start of the Road of Hope in the Capitol where Coriolanus Snow had his fully owned penthouse. Where he had nothing, and now had won everything.
…
Time flies, things had changed, probably for the better. You made Coriolanus keep fighting for a good and healthy relationship. Slowly, he made you completely fall in love again. And although there was certain spark missing, you knew it would never come back. However, you had also accepted that both of you had grown up.
The late talks were mature now. Talking about the future of Panem, planning dinners together. The kisses were more passionate, unlike the softness that was all over your early relationship. The sex was harder rather than slow and sweet like the beginning. Coriolanus would like to leave many hickeys scattered across your body, make a wet mess of saliva and fluids. He loved feelings your almond nails leave gentle scratches across his pale back.
But certainly, the biggest change was the way you two were handling a life together.
After turning twenty, you got married. Soon Coriolanus bought the house he always wished to give you. The one with black and white tiles floor, beige walls and big stairs.
By the first week in, he had done many refurbishments and he had fucked you in every room, every corner and every surface of the house.
Till the day you turned twenty-two. By that time, you had almost ditched your dancing career. Sometimes you still had some chances to perform on galas. But Coriolanus convinced you to focus on public services and the production of the hunger games. Dr. Gaul had officially retired, and it was going to be the first year of Coriolanus as a game maker. Things had really changed.
But everything seemed fine.
“Dear, Are you ready?” You turn to look at your husband, who waits on the frame of the door.
“Just one moment” you run to slip into your silver heels before grabbing your purse.
Trevor kept his job as your chauffeur and Millie was now your private secretary. Sometimes you hated how formal your life had become. Especially now that Coriolanus had some plans in mind.
As soon as you arrive to the fancy patio from a million-dollar man house, many women eye you and Coriolanus.
“Remind me what are we doing here?” You ask him. He holds your hand tightly, smiling at many of the invited people.
“I’m assuming the role of game maker. You are giving a speech about the improvements for the 14th Hunger Games, my dear” you nod, clutching onto his cold hand harder. Both of you were kind of the sensation around the Capitol. You know how they whisper about your dress and your husband’s physic.
“You’re going to be fine. You always choose the right words. And your voice can charm anyone here” he whispers on your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.
“Thank goddess I’ve been studying the constitution. Or else these men would bury me” Coriolanus laughs. Soon you enter the actual event. With long white tables, candles and everyone dressed either on red or black.
“Men around here don’t know how smart my wife is” he says shrugging, remembering how many honors you received from university. Some of the wives ask you to join them. You wave hello to them before leaning to your man.
“Do not make me jealous or leave me alone during the speech.” You firmly say to him.
“Of course not, my love”
“Love you.” And with one last kiss, you walk away.
For the rest of the night. You feel uneasy. Because you succeeded with the speech. But once you read the part from Coriolanus, you are at the verge of babbling.
He shared some of his initial proposals for the games. Like lowering the age of the tributes, increasing the obstacles in the arena, using more mutts, allowing weapons, and making the interviews with Lucky Flickerman longer.
It had been a long time since you think about the games so much. But that guilt you felt after seeing Coriolanus as mentor, never left. And after that dinner, everyone claps for your husband and you, after being considered as the couple of the next generation for Panem.
In the privacy of your new home, you constantly zone out to think about it. You can’t ask Coriolanus to stop the games, but he could make some changes.
You knock swiftly on his door.
“Come in.” You walk in and he drops the papers he was signing to smile at the sight of you.
“Hello, you.” he says cheekily.
“Hello, you’.” You reply. He indicates you to seat on his lap and you do so. His arms lock around you, hands resting on your back.
“Are you coming to bed anytime soon?” You ask.
“I just need to sign some things, darling” he watches you frown, and he won’t say you look older, because you don’t. But you certainly look wiser, mature and more like a woman rather than a girl.
“I’ve been thinking about the games” He’s all ears now. He knows you had some specific opinions. You had said in your first interview how brutal the games were.
“What about them?”
“I would never ask you to stop the games. But…” you stop, suddenly feeling a little nervous.
“But what, my dear?”
“Don’t you think those tributes are humans? Yes, the Districts deserve to be reminded of the consequences of their acts. But most of the tributes are kids. Who don’t even understand everything that conveys a war.” Coriolanus sighs, trying to choose the correct words to answer you.
“What are you suggesting?” He tries to sound calm, but the mere subject makes him a little irritated.
“I don’t know… Maybe giving them more opportunities?” He giggles, caressing the skin on your hips.
“Giving them opportunities means going soft on them. And going soft on them could trigger a new rebellion” this time you sigh, trying to persuade him by brushing his hair, softly grasping his chin.
“Not like that, Coryo. I mean… raising the majority age of the tributes. Giving them at least the chance to train. To eat a proper meal on the last night. To show who they are one last time before they’re sent to die” Coriolanus would always believe that you’re only one weakness was your humanity. How you always turned to see down on others, feeling guilty from being born with all the commodities.
So, he tries to ignore it. He tries to see your suggestions as a way to punish the tributes harder. Give them everything to then killing them.
So, he smiles, urging you to kiss him. You reply immediately, holding him closer to feel the heated proximity.
“I could arrange some changes. Would that make you feel better?” You nod on his lips, smiling.
“Now let me finish this before meeting you in bed. And I expect you have this thing off before I get there” he says grabbing your nightgown. You laugh with a potent blush, gently pushing him away.
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not being silly. In two days, we start the tour, we will be very tired to make love daily as we do now” you roll your eyes, almost running away ad your husband laughs, making fun of your embarrassment.
“This is madness. I’m going to bed” you say getting out of his office.
“Don’t forget about what I said!” He yells, making you smile in love as you leave upstairs, wishing good night to the maids and butler. For the record, you do not forget about your husband’s petition.
…
The best part of the house is the rooftop in your opinion. A terrace with cristal walls and ceilings that had a gorgeous view of the Capitol. A view that included some monuments and the snowy mountains surrounding the city.
You had a little bar there, an eccentric dining table and some couches with colorful cushions.
Grandma’am made you take some of his roses so you could start your own garden. That brought tears to your eyes. But now, it was only you and Tigris there.
You asked the chef to make some vegetables and creams as your sister-in-law arrived for dinner. Coriolanus and you were set to leave the next morning for his political campaign tour.
“Have you packed everything?” Tigris asks.
“Yes. I wish I could take Trevor with me. But only Millie will be able to come” you say smiling. Tigris notices how you constantly look at the door, hoping to see Coriolanus entering.
“Have you told him?” You shake your head at the woman.
“Not yet. Probably by the time we arrive District 4. We have good memories from there” Tigris smiles. She was really excited when you got back together with Coriolanus. She even made your wedding dress. And now she was so proud of the career you two were making.
“Sorry for the delay. I was arguing with some incompetent who cancelled the delivery of our new chandeliers” Tigris rolls her eyes as your husband cheekily smiles.
“Dinner isn’t ready yet, anyways” you say patting his back as he takes a seat beside you.
“You shouldn’t be stressing over the tour. Your dear wife must’ve prepared the most wonderful speeches for you to say” Coriolanus smiles, turning to give you a peck on the nose, making you laugh.
“It’s not that, Tigris. It’s the time that’s freaking me out. I don’t want to be gone for almost two months.” You sigh, trying to keep everything together. You just pray that the tour goes smoothly.
“Each district will host you with all commodities” it’s a lie. Coriolanus isn’t ready to go to District 12 again. Where his father died, where he committed the worst decisions of his early life. He knows those days will be a little sour. But he’s willing to play pretend very well for you.
“It’s going to be fine. Pardon me, dear” Coriolanus says after seeing your face of over thinking. His wife is so smart that she’s probably wondering the same as him. And that’s the least he needs of.
You take his hand, before hearing the food has arrived. The air changes, the dinner flows happily as you talk and gossip with Tigris and your husband. It’s a great dinner actually.
Maybe he broke your heart when you were teenagers. But you delayed his political campaign for four years. Maybe he had looked too much at Lucy Gray Baird, but at the end it would only be you.
You could’ve done better to get rid of that guilt for participating in the hunger games, but you just realize that maybe you didn’t because you are not a good person either.
Even so, every morning, you wake up in his arms as he fulfilled his promise of never failing you again.
You just hope that the tour, the upcoming games and everything else doesn’t get into your way. Nothing can be a recoil. Not when Coriolanus Snow’s first child rests peacefully in your womb.
The future was uncertain. But your past and present along him always seemed like… a hatred road.
_____________________________________________
fyi, in my head, if reader hadn’t delayed Coriolanus political emergence, the second rebellion would’ve started earlier and probably it wouldn’t have been successful. (Basically it would’ve been like a second time “dark days” situation and then back to reconstruction again)
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