#i am not the first person to say this nor will i be the last

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

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

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

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

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you ran away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always want to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was,” he says softly.

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

“But now I don’t want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

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

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

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

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

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

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

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

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

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

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

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

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

“You look funny.”

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

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

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

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

"I ran through the sprinklers."

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

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

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

He wasn’t alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

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

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

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

“Do you want anything to drink?”

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

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

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

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

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

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

“I remember."

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

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

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

"I really wanted kimchi."

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

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

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

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

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

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

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

He nods slowly. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could never hate you."

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

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

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

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

“You know it’s never going to work.”

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

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

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

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

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

"Oh I can name a few."

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

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

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

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

"You really think you can convince me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

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

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

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I kiss you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

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

"Maybe."

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

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

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll have me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

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

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

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

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

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

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

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

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

“Even up to a thousand?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait."

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

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

Shit. Neither did you.

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

“I was too focused with you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty sure?”

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

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

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

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

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

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

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

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

Your walls squeeze around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

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

And truthfully, neither can you.

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

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

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

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

You whine in approval.

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

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

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

He’s more than happy to oblige.

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

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

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quickly turn over to the other side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t be mad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s what I want.”

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

“In a good way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

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

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

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

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

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

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what makes you so sure?”

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

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

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

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

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[b4ddprincess]

I hope that everyone who reads this feels a little bit of peace of mind. I know how unbearable it is to want to have the life of your dreams right now! That anxiety and despair won't help at all. Nor will continuing to do what doesn't resonate with you, seeing countless success stories and each time trying to do the same as them. It's always like that, right? That's what most of us do, it's like being in a loop, I say this because this year I became pure consciousness several times while trying to induce it, whether through lucid dreams, sleeping affirming, some of the times I just came out of the state of pure consciousness without affirming anything because I felt so peaceful (and it didn't last long either).

Exactly 4 days ago I almost to induce pure consciousness again while listening to this audio that leaves me super relaxed

https://youtu.be/DMQjwuU_4c4

(not that to induce pure consciousness you need something like that, just relax your body and take your focus off thoughts related to anxiety, just relax)

and I relaxed so deeply, I relaxed my body and mind while daydreaming but as soon as I started to feel the symptoms it was so intense, like falling, spinning and being sucked at the same time. and I focused so much on the symptoms that I ended up losing focus and consciousness returned to 3D.

but I remembered when I was a beginner in all this and I read a blog (if I find the link I'll put it here for you)

https://at.tumblr.com/princess200417/697183954837569536/h6gg9e7y98bg

in which the blogger said the following

"Sit down or lay down in the most comfortable position to you

Start breathing in and out slowly and imagine/picture a black space or a black hole or just a black image in general ,so this can help you in feeling closer to void (ofc it's not necessary)

Now start AFFIRMING I'm void or any other blanket void affirmation/affirmations of your personal preference"

She also said to make affirmations during the day, such as "Void is instant easy and simple ," "I am God," and I remembered that when I did this for the first time, I was a little sleepy. All I did was read this blogger's post again, lay down, and close my eyes. I didn't think about anything. All I did was affirm without forcing myself. The symptoms were so intense. However, I wasn't anxious or desperate.

So, I didn't care about the symptoms. I kept affirming. I remember that the way I induced pure consciousness was so fast. I just hadn't affirmed anything because there was nothing I wanted to manifest. Then I just affirmed that I was going to go out, and when I did, I realized that I was still asleep. Then I woke up. Some time later, I did it again and manifested that I was going to pass a very important test for me. And guess what? I passed all the tests.

And now remembering this I feel upset with myself, for having consumed too much and having let things get out of control and become a little difficult. Until a while ago I was telling myself that I would manifest my dream life, but I was always putting it off until tomorrow and it was always like that, 5 months went by while I was procrastinating. Now I realized how much time I wasted, and I feel upset with myself. But I remembered that I have already induced pure consciousness, what is getting in my way is despair and anxiety, but now I will control this and manifest my dream life, I will send you my success story very soon :)

I hope this is like a little warning to everyone who is on this journey, I know that everyone's circumstances may be as difficult as mine, but never give up. Try to stop this despair, focus on who you are. You are gods, the co-creator of your own reality, don't give up and don't put off until tomorrow what you can and have the power to do today!!!

congrats on inducing pure consciousness and passing your exams!! it may not be your dream life, but hey! you still have a testimony to share, and ik you'll share your dream life testimony soon!! 💗💗

just apply your reminders, and ik i'll see your next success story! don't stress urself either! 💞

[sonik-kun]

Let's remind eachother why Jiang Cheng resorted to leading the seige, shall we?

If you recall, WWX inadvertently killed JZX after he lost control of WN. JZX being JC's brother in law .. The heir to the powerful Jin sect but most importantly, his sister's husband whom she loved dearly.

EVEN THEN JC DIDN'T OUTRIGHT DECLARE A SIEGE!

We see he's reluctant, torn, but still holds some hope for WWX. This can be seen in the line thereafter where WWX loses control once again and JC cries "I thought you could control it!"

Both JC and JYL in that moment couldn't truly bring themselves to go after WWX and hold him accountable. But we can also see that they are torn. That they are unsure how to feel about WWX and the dangerous person he has now become. We see this when JYL is dying and she can't bring herself to express what she may or may not be feeling in that moment.

But love and loyalty aside, let's look at what would happen if JC didn't take part in the siege.

If JC didn't take part he would either look complicit in JZX's death or he would look like a weak coward who rolls over for his former second in command. Not only that, he would be expected to pursue justice on behalf of his sister. How would it look if he didn't raise a finger to kill or apprehend his sister and her husband's "killer?"

We don't even know if he wanted to kill WWX in that siege or apprehend him. Giving his literal job and the politics of that world, he wouldn't be wrong to do either. JC's job is to keep his people safe. And if WWX has become a threat, a threat that killed two of his family members, then I'm afraid to say it is his duty to stop him.

I would also argue in defence of his mental state at the time of his siege. JC literally lost his only remaining family left, his sister leaving behind an orphaned nephew. He's also not being fed the information we as the reader receive.

From his pov WWX had not only betrayed him to side with the sect that had nearly decimated his own, but it also looked like he had walked down the dark path and had become corrupted by his DC. His corruption had led to the death of people who he loved. In JC's eyes, WWX had betrayed him first.

Now before anyone starts, I am in no way condoning the massacre of the Wen remnants. But I would like to argue that we don't even know JC's full role in the siege other than that he lead it.

His goal was to get to WWX. If he wanted the Wen dead, he would have sided with the rest of the cultivation world in the beginning instead of defending WWX's actions and being mocked and demeaned for it. He was willing to embarrass himself and receive criticism from the other sect leader's for WWX! That to me suggests his love and loyalty for his brother.

For all we know, JC's party could have went after WWX and his fierce corpse army. Whilst the Jin took advantage and took care of the Wen. WWX never blames JC for the death of the Wen nor does he seek justice or revenge. Instead he puts the blame on the Jin when the truth of their conniving comes out. So.. if you think JC should be held accountable for the Wen, WWX himself doesn't even entertain that idea. 🤷

So no, actually. The siege does not nullify Jiang Cheng's sacrifice. JC made that sacrifice out of love for his brother without a second thought. JC only turned against WWX at the very last minute when he inadvertently got his beloved sister killed. He could have picked the easy way out and sided with the three powerful sects to take down WWX and the Wen a long time ago but he didn't. Because he loved WWX. He respected him. And he was only pushed to commit the atrocities he commited because of WWX. JC is not inherently evil.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  / Prologue

Chapter One

Two and Half Years Later…

“What have we got?”

Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.

“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”

“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.

“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”

“Mom?”

“Deceased.”

“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”

Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”

“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”

“Does she often walk by herself to school?”

The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”

“But not today?” Killian inquired.

“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.

“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.

“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”

The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.

“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”

“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn’t allowed to cut through the woods.”

“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.

The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.

Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.

Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.

Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.

When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.

Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.

“I’ve got something!”

Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.

“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”

“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”

Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.

“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”

Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”

Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.

“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”

“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.

Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let��s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”

“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about Aesop’s?”

Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”

Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”

“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”

~/~

“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”

Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.

“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”

Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.

“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”

“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.

When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.

She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.

She woged.

Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?

No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…

No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?

Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.

Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.

“Did you see that?”

Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”

“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”

“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.

He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?

“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.

“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”

Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”

For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…

“We got a boot print!”

Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.

It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!

“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”

Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”

It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.

“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.

“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”

“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”

“Go on.”

Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.

“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”

“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”

Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.

“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”

“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”

“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”

It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.

There had to be a way of finding this monster.

Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.

This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.

“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”

Typical.

Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.

“Will? What you got?”

“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”

“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”

“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”

“You think it was the postman?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.”

A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.

If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?

Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.

Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.

His prayer was answered.

“Hello?”

“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”

~/~

The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.

He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.

Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.

A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.

Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.

“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”

“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.

The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”

“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”

Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”

Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”

Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.

Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.

“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”

Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.

“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.

“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”

“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”

“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”

A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”

“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”

“As in… fully?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been intense for all of you.”

“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”

“Until?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.

“So… you made it through your first full moon.”

“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”

“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”

Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.

It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.

“That was…”

It was a big fucking mistake.

“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”

Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.

“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”

“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”

She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.

“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”

“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”

“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”

“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”

“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”

“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”

“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”

“The feelings are still there?”

Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”

“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”

Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.

“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”

“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Meaning?”

Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”

Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”

“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”

“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”

Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”

“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”

“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”

“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.

“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”

“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”

“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”

Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.

“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”

The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”

“Then… you’ll help me?”

Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”

Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.

“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”

Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”

Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.

Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”

“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”

“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.

“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”

Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”

Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.

“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.

Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”

“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”

Killian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”

Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”

“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”

“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”

“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”

“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”

With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.

“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.

“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”

“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.

The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”

“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”

Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.

You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--

Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.

“Killian? What is it?”

Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.

“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.

“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.

His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”

Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”

“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”

Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.

“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”

“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”

She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.

“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”

“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.

It would be a lie, though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”

“So?”

Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”

“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.

“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”

“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”

His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”

His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”

“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”

“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”

He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.

“As you wish.”

Chapter Two - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

@jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd

@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @kday426 @djlbg @fairytalepretzkle @maggiegreenvt

@natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur

@qualitycoffeethings @idristardis @phoenix-untamed @bluewildcatfanatic @bananachickens

[phddyke]

damn casey hartley really like...haunts the narrative huh

[hearts401]

raises my hand i actually like the concept of a shitty parent getting better i just hate when its used to be like "im good now so you should forgive me."

people grow and change and hurt people!!! and those hurt people deserve to move on without having to forgive their abuser!!!

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

i got to see four of my biggest heroes in person, relatively close-up recently :)

[amelia-mariee]

the best thing about the character of marty mcfly is that he shows 1) it’s cool to be nice to people and 2) you can be the coolest guy ever and not have a million friends/be the most popular kid in school

[mx-paint]

.

[heyitslapis]

its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on

Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit

[pastadoughie]

many people were confused about some of my previous posts, so for the sake of clarity i am condensing everything! tumblr has extremely transphobic moderation practices, often flagging completely innocent posts as explicit, solely for containing trans women in them or mentioning transgenderism. while letting untagged porn in sfw tags (ive literally seen porn tagged as "sfw agere") and blatent hatespeech, especially twards trans people (just look at the "gender critical" tag) go completely unchecked recently the CEO of tumblr had a big public hissyfit about people (rightfully) calling him transmysogenistic, going into random trans womens dms to harrass them, and saying that predstrogen saying she "hopes he explodes with hammers and then explodes again and hammers fly everywhere" is a death threat and saying he is calling the FBI on her (repeatedly misgendering her and calling her "it") and many bloggers, apon speaking out about it or even making harmless jokes (one trans woman posted a picture of a car and a hammer with the caption "reblog to scare matt" and got nuked for it) and many are very very angry (rightfully) about this whole affair and tumblr in general. if you would like to look into it i reccomend scrolling the "predstrogen" tag as she is the case most people are talking about at the moment. So, what can we do? this is clearly an ongoing issue, and, dispite having lost a lawsuit about their transphobic moderation in the past (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement) its clearly not gonna stop with just user complaints, as staff members are perfectly content to just go scorched earth on users who even so much as lightly poke fun at them well if you want to help you should contact the human rights commision (i will give clear details further down) ! you dont have to be in the US, nor be an adult to file, and it only takes a few minutes. this is the best and most effective method to fix this, because it hits tumblr where it hurts. human rights acencies have a lot of legal and financial power and tumblr CAN NOT just ignore them, and given that this will be the seccond time this is happening, the commisions shouldnt be playing nice anymore eaither. its really important that AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE FILE, and with different examples! while maybe your case might not be enough to prop up a lawsuit on its own, we need to prove a general trend. so every little bit counts! to respond to another question abt this ive gotten, as for what exactly to report, you should a) write about an act of discrimination youve recieved on tumblr that was eaither administered by a staff member OR that staff refused to give adequate moderation action in for example : a terf posted some blatent hatespeech targeted twards you, and you reported them, and staff looked at the issue and refused to persecute it. example 2 : you were unfairly flagged, deleted, or otherwise punished by a staff member and you are queer ( AND the post they banned you for has some kind of tie to your gender, ex : a sfw transition progress photo ) OR b) if you have not personally recieved something like that, please look for other peoples stories (THEY SHOULDNT BE HARD TO FIND, within the last couple of hours trans people have been being banned LEFT AND RIGHT for trying to speak on this. i would reccomend checking some of the tags related to what happened with predstrogen) and you should describe that incident as best as possible (be sure to disclose that you are speaking for someone else, ideally you should tell the story of someone you know, if possible.) you can also mention any reports you have made twards people posting blatent hatespeech that, opon reveiwing tumblr refused to prosecute dispite it being very obviously against terms of service. just so nobody gets confused about the filing process, im laying it out in more plain languadge!!

first you should email the SF HRC (san francisco human rights commision), at hrc.info@sfgov.org and say something along these lines :

Hello, I am [full name] from [country or state] and I am filing a complaint against Tumblr, witch is owned by the parent company Automattic Inc. located at 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Tumblr has had previous issues with the NYC DHR for their moderation being unfairly biased against trans women (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement).

Despite a legally binding agreement with the NYC DHR, staff members still regularly harrass users based on their gender or sexual orientations. For example : on [date of most recent infraction] [describe incident] (if you are describing an incident that did not happen to you specifically, say something like) This incident involves the user [username] who I am not affiliated with (or/) who I am filing on behalf of.

I can be reached for further inquiries about this incident at [email you want to talk over] or [phone number you want to talk over]. (if you would like to be anonymous) However, In the event of legal prosecution against Automattic I would refer to be kept anonymous, where possible, in court proceedings. alternatively, you can also call the SF HRC at : 415-252-2500, you can use the above text as a starting point for this as well, next you want to fill out the form for the NYC DHR (new york city department of human rights) here : https://www.nyc.gov/site/cchr/about/report-discrimination.page for company you wanna put : Automattic and/or Tumblr for address you wanna put : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003 for phone number you wanna put : (646) 513-4321 and for category of discrimination you can put : Discriminatory harassment and basis of discrimination you can put : Gender; Gender identity you can then use a similar script on the written section of the form. when describing a specific incident, you should attach as many screenshots and links as possible! (for links, include both a live link and an archival link, so take a capture with the internet archive and have that as an alternative, incase a staff member gets petty.) this should only take a few minutes at most, and it helps alot! you can fill this out if you are a minor, and you dont have to be a us resident, please please take the time!!! and, just to clarify because there are many posts going around that are confused about this tumblr moved offices to san francisco recently, so their main HQ is at : 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110 they DO still have an office in new york city, and thats where their PREVIOUS HQ was, the address is : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[jakei95]

This will be the last update about the accusations against Nyx and me from last year and recent months.

VERSION EN ESPAÑOL:

I cannot force everyone to forgive or believe us, but I would like to provide a closure from our part on the events following Hopeless Peaches' false accusations last year, and a few more that have been reappearing this year, once more.

In recent months, we resumed communication with CrystalFlame, one of the victims of the Glitchtale server. Crystal acknowledged that the accusations against us for allegedly being sexual towards minors and bribing her to remain silent about our "crimes" were entirely fabricated by these people. It was never our intention to hide our past mistakes with money. The separate donations Nyx and I gave to Crystal were solely intended to help her.

Regarding the conversations on Skype in 2017, neither Nyx nor I ever forced the minors present to engage in sexual behavior for our entertainment, nor did we sexualize them in any way. There were inappropriate conversations between adults, in which they should not have been involved, and we recognize our mistake in being negligent and not caring enough about them. I must admit that Veir also disgusted me, and I reacted foolishly by not confronting him or by saying things he liked just to make him leave me alone. I deeply regret this. Although we have apologized to Crystal for this, I also want to apologize to the minors who were there, even if they don't want to know about this anymore, and to the entire community for this huge mistake. Since Nyx and I stopped using that chat short after our irl meeting that same year, plus our detachment to the members of GT, we have changed our views significantly both in public and in private, creating a healthy community for everyone. I will add more details later regarding my experiences with NSFW material, for which I have also been accused of being a depraved person.

I disagree with how Nyx tried to explain how these behaviors were so normalized, but he never intended to endorse the toxicity and unpunished crimes occurring in Latin culture. Nyx acknowledges this, and we discussed it again privately with Crystal. We apologize once more to our Latin members who might have been offended by this take, which could have been better explained. Nyx and I said a lot of things out of fear and frustration, which caused more harm and distress rather than solutions due to the explosive harassment we faced because of the false accusations by Hopeless Peaches and their group. I won't go into too many details because I have chosen to keep my mental health private, but this wave of harassment severely impacted my mental and physical health, and I am currently undergoing treatment to manage the aftermath.

However, I want to take full responsibility for causing Nyx to act out of emotion rather than with a clear mind in a desperate attempt to protect me, as Crystal ended up in a very complicated situation during the harassment wave created by Peaches, making her believe that our lives were in her hands and dependent on her choices. This was not only inappropriate but also unfair, considering Crystal was going through a lot at that time. Nyx and I poorly worded many things both publicly and privately. We should never have let our emotions take over while trying to defend ourselves. We could have handled the situation more maturely. None of these mistakes will be repeated ever again. Crystal has also admitted her mistakes. Many things would have taken a different path if dialogue had been the first option instead of public statements, but both sides have learned a lot.

With all this, I don't want to hear anything about Glitchtale, its creator, or its still-active members. Nor do I want to hear about Hopeless Peaches or their community, or what's left of it. My purpose on the internet is to entertain people with my art, and on the rare occasions I interact publicly, to maintain a calm and healthy environment, as I have been doing for years. My boundaries with fans are very strict and defined. It may sound ambitious or silly to many, but for a long time, I have wanted to make a difference and show that not all artists with a large audience are people who hide dark secrets and seek to harm others. I just want to tell stories and brighten people's days.

People have become used to seeing random individuals or public figures being exposed daily for horrible acts and behavior, which is very depressing. However, when those accusations are false, it is sometimes too late to undo the damage. No one likes to be pointed at and accused of something they didn't commit, especially when those accusations are serious, like harming another human being.

Some people today are confused and believe that I am actually Camila, and that Nyx is Veir, that my husband has been dating minors despite us being married, and that I defended my "pedophile" partner and protected other groomers. People are not only mistaking us for other individuals, but we also don't have anything to do with that other than the 2017 Skype chats. We have been put in some sort of black list from parts of the fandom due to misinformation or because some people seek an excuse to justify their dislike for us by wishing we had harmed real children. This is sickening, sickeing and frustrating if you actually think about the victims not only in fandoms but everywhere. So, please, I beg you to distinguish between names and what has actually happened. Even if you don't like us, don't seek or wish for us to be monsters just to feel proud of yourselves.

I feel I could regain some peace in my heart by having the opportunity to talk to Crystal about all what happened and ending in good terms. This should be the end of the whole controversy regarding the Skype Chat and the GT Server.

Now I would also like to take the opportunity to talk about other accusations still aimed at me to this day, which I once explained on a Twitter thread that was eventually deleted due to unnecesary arguments between fans. I'm being accused of being a horrible and irredeemable person for drawing a comic in my early years in the fandom that insinuated a non-consensual act between Cross and Dream.

Before any explanation, I want to emphasize that I still feel immense regret and shame for creating that nsfw comic, even if I didn't feel comfortable doing so, I still made the decision as an adult and shouldn't have done it in a space where there were minors and people who might find that material triggering. Even though it happened many years ago, it was not right, and I will apologize as many times as necessary.

I haven't had any contact with the creator of Dreamtale since 2017, so I'm unaware of her current viewpoint about this topic in general, but one thing is certain: both of us don't want to be associated with that ship between our characters and want to move on. We want it as far away from us as possible. I don't want anybody to harass her over this situation.

During that time, I was in an unstable relationship with the creator of Dreamtale, with whom I used to roleplay privately. This, along with being pressured to make the ship "canon", led me to create the comics for that ship. Among them was the infamous scene for which I'm accused of supporting rape. This content and private interactions reached a point where the entire situation made me uncomfortable, along with the toxic attitudes in our relationship, I ended up closing the blog, though not before writing a summary of what would happen next in the story -that didn't have any other sexual moments, to clarify-, simply a closure for those who enjoyed the comic. Not long after, we broke up.

After this experience, I began to realize that any NSFW content, both fictional and real, made me very uncomfortable. This is connected to future members of the fandom, like Veir, who tried to sexualize me, and later, ex-friends whom I wanted to please for their support during my growth as a content creator by drawing them private NSFW commissions. I ignored my discomfort, believing I was doing the right thing and that I could trust them, but what happened later finally made me understand that I personally cannot tolerate any of this content.

This group of people shared these private commissions among themselves. One of these people was someone I considered a close friend and was even my Discord moderator but began abusing their power towards other members, trying to escape the consequences just because of our friendship. They even tried to offer me money to remove a character from another artist who would appear in my animation as a cameo, just because they both had personal issues. I decided to end our friendship because I saw no changes or improvements on their part and I felt i was being used as a power tool for them.

It wasn't long after this that I found an alt account of them, posting these private NSFW drawings, tagging me to attract attention as a form of revenge for cutting ties with them (They also got Nyx's phone number to trying to get in contact with me despite what they were doing). These images spread last year among a few people who, unaware of the background, used them as a reason to question me as an artist. However I explained the rest of the story before it became more public, and I appreciate that they listened to me first, however, the damage was already done.

In March of this year, I made a thread on Twitter explaining this and my reason for not supporting or consuming NSFW content. I want to stay away from this whole debate. I don't want my words to be used to attack others. My reasons for not enjoying this are because I had people around me who caused me a lot of harm with this matter, it triggers me, and I don't like any sexual topics around me, even as an adult reaching my 30s. I simply don't like it, I'm not interested, and I want my feelings to be respected. I'm very aware that more than half of my audience are minors, and I know how to behave and what to show in my art, but there are still others looking for any excuse to call me or my husband horrible things. It has happened before with accusations of transphobia for making Frisk and Chara from Xtale male instead of non-binary as they are in the canon version. I have been called a pedophile for portraying Frisk and Muffet from XTale in an innocent romantic context, even though there is no age difference, just because is not following, again, the canon (which with all honesty, I'm not aware if it has been confirmed she is a child or not). I have been accused of racism because of the characters' skin color, and so on.

Being hated in a fandom as an artist with a big following is supposed to be normal, but, to what extent?

I know I should ignore those comments and move on, but I still don't understand why it hurts so much that people want to discredit my efforts as an artist and as a person by believing they have found some dark secret in me… I really can't understand, I just want to live in peace.

My art is my only escape from negative thoughts. Nyx is my only support in real life. I have been working on how to deal with online criticism and harassment, but it is really hard when people tell lies in order to ruin a life, especially when those lies try to make us look like disgusting human beings. This puts me in a lot of distress, mostly because I hate conflict and prefer to be left alone. I want to be a role model in this community by not getting involved with problematic people and toxic environments. Even if there are people who don't like my work, I want to show that there is still a bit of decency and common sense in the art community.

For this reason, this will be the last time I talk about this because I want to focus on what makes me, my husband, and my audience happy. I want to set an example, and I want people to read this, try to understand our position, and give us a chance.

Once again, we deeply regret the mistakes we made in the past.

[luvt0kki]

training wheels | k.h.j

pairing : Professor!Hongjoong x innocent!reader ft!Wooyoung

♡₊˚( wrote this listening to ‘training wheels’ by Melanie Martinez)

summary: Too innocent for your own good, your professor's little hidden crush only grows the more he could spend time with you. You were so pure before his eyes. A sweet young woman who deserves the sweetest kind of love but still had trouble in paradise with her boyfriend…but he’ll be there for you. After all, he only wants what’s best for you and to protect you.

wc: 10.7k

cw: University AU, smut, coquette-ish fem!innocent reader, virgin reader, slightly older Hongjoong, manipulation, obsessive stalker-ish behavior, yandere behavior, corruption kink, cheating , frat boy behavior from Maknae line, oral!male receiving, there'll be more spice in the next part

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: hello so it’s been awhile and this has been cooling in my drafts for so long. Special thanks to @songmingisthighs for helping me whenever I’m stuck with writing and for being one of my favourite persons on this app 😭i wanted to write something that isn’t apart of the Sway With Me universe just for a change and a breather ( I hope you guys don’t mind that). I just wanted to write.

- this is will be a two part series!

READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Note: Hongjoong is a couple years older but he’s still young for a professor. Maknae Line is in their last year of Uni and is part of the University’s Varsity baseball team.Y /N is innocent ( smh). Kinda coquettish vibes but yuh, sweet girl.

The rain storming outside made anxiety bubble in your chest as you clutched your laptop bag and books tight. You glanced at your phone, the bright red bar of the little battery icon glaring at you. That just made your situation even worse and it didn’t help that the last message you saw was the reason you were stranded here in the first place.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. The team meeting is going overtime tonight. Get home safe. Please message me when you’re home.”

You waited for him. You should be angry at him but instead, you were only heartbroken and sad that he didn’t keep his word. You were frustrated that you couldn’t even hate him the slightest bit for forgetting to pick you up and the sudden downpour was just the cherry on top.

“Ms. L/N, is that you?”

That voice. That familiar tone that you heard every Monday and Wednesday from 8 am til 10 am. The voice that made your Art Appreciation lecture so interesting that you’re excited to come early every morning to learn sounded from behind you.

You turned around and quickly bowed your head in his direction out of respect.

“Mr.Kim.”

The young professor frowned at your presence.

“It is you. What are you still doing here?” He asked, extending his arm a bit to glance at his silver watch. “It’s almost 11 pm.”

“I-It started raining…” was all you could say. You couldn’t nor want to admit to your university professor the real reason why you were stranded on campus.

“Indeed…,” he gently grasped your arm and pulled you into the covered shade of the hall. “Do you need a ride home, Ms. L/N? I was just about to leave and go home but I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop or if you’d like, your home.”

His offer made your heart melt. Mr. Kim Hongjoong has always been so kind and sweet to his students. He has always shown such care and patience to their studies and well-being, and as the many girls in your classroom would whisper amongst each other, he was also very handsome. Which was a fact everyone in the whole campus knew.

“I don’t want to be of a hassle to you, Sir. I can wait for the rain to stop.” You tried to kindly turn down his offer, not wanting to bother him but also you felt it was inappropriate for a student to be in any proximity to a professor alone.

“Ms. L/N, it’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. I assure you it is not a bother to take you home. I’ll be worried if I just left you here.”

He was right. Both about the rain and the time, and you’re never out this late. Well at least not alone and it made you antsy. Mr. Kim looked at you with so much care in dark brown eyes that it felt impossible to say no to his kind offer.

“O-okay.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of your professor's fancy car.

You looked around subtly observing the luxurious interior of the vehicle. It smelled like new leather and Mr. Kim’s cologne. Your phone buzzed breaking your little observation as Mr. Kim typed in the location of your apartment into his phone GPS.

“Baby? Are you home? Please let me know.” The text message notification shone brightly.

You let out a little sigh.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice your rather wilted demeanor. He looked over you in the corner of his eye as he started the car. Little did you know, he was admiring your look today. You didn’t have class with him on Fridays so seeing today was rather…refreshing. Baby pink always looked so pretty on you, he thought to himself. Your blouse almost had a ballet-like aesthetic to it, it wrapped around your torso so elegantly and gently accentuated your curves. It was matched with a very pretty flowy white skirt that wasn’t too short nor too long, and there was a thin pink ribbon in your hair, the finishing touch to your very sweet ensemble. You always dressed so cute.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He asked his voice so calm and gentle that it calmed your silent frustration.

“Not really…” you muttered your gaze down at the hem of your skirt, your books, and your laptop sleeve on your lap.

The defeated expression you wore made the older man’s heartache for you. He didn’t like to see you like this. You were like a ray of gentle sunshine whenever you entered his classroom, a doe in a beautiful blooming field of flowers that radiated warmth that made anyone and everyone around you comfortable and calm. It was odd to see you like this.

“If you want to talk about it I’m all ears,” he offered with a smile, reaching behind the head of your passenger seat and glancing behind as he reversed up his car from the parking lot.

Your heart raced at the gesture. You didn’t know what about it was making you feel all flustered and small. His kind words and warm tone made it hard to keep your emotions in. Maybe you can just tell him…a little bit.

“I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up…but he didn’t come.” You murmured, heart aching as you said those words.

Hongjoong’s heart dropped, and he raised a brow at what you just said. Your boyfriend didn’t show up?

“I know I shouldn’t be so upset…it’s just he promised. I understand he has obligations to his team…I just feel like he forgot about me.”

Your sweet voice was so small. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to soothe you and reassure you. Underneath all of that, he was bubbling with irritation. He kept a softened and caring expression on his face as he listened to you, gripping the stirring wheel to hide his annoyance.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” he said so sympathetically. “You’re such a sweet girl to be so understanding of your boyfriend. If I remember correctly your boyfriend is…”

“Wooyoung.” You whispered his name, your lips between your teeth as you tried to hold back your disappointed tears and hurt.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened.

Right.

Jung Wooyoung.

“Ah…yes. The university’s baseball star.” He was also a student in one of his classes. A heartthrob along with his best friend and Baseball Vice Captain, Choi San.

“I’ll feel better when I get home and sleep it off.” You didn’t want to talk about him forgetting to pick you up any longer.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. L/N, how long have you been together?” He asked, hoping his question was not so out of the blue as he continued to drive.

“Almost three months now, Mr. Kim.” You replied, the idea of being with Wooyoung for so long making you a little happy despite tonight’s disappointment.

Lucky bastard. “Oh, that’s very recent.”

“I know…but he’s very sweet to me. He takes care of me and he really makes me happy.” You listed the good things that always made your heart flutter. Your sweet loving boyfriend who had pursued you and never pushed for anything you weren’t ready for. If you were to describe your relationship with Wooyoung, it was like the love you see in the movies.

“That’s good to hear. You’re one of my sweetest students and I’d be worried if you weren’t happy,” Hongjoong smiled, earning the reaction he wanted and expected from someone as innocent as you.

Your pretty eyes widened at his words and you looked even shyer. He wondered if that’s why your boyfriend was attracted to you.

You didn’t know what to say but there was a small smile on your face when he called you one of his sweetest students.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir.

Hongjoong’s night was getting better than he could ever imagine. First, the surprise of seeing you still on campus alone as he left, then you accepting his offer to drive you home, and now, Sir? For a long time, he loved how that name slipped from your pretty glossed lips.

“I’m sure your boyfriend feels really guilty about not having shown up. Sometimes these things happen.” Hongjoong tried to reassure you, not really wanting to defend the University senior you were seeing but he needed to say what you wanted or needed to hear.

You take his words as it is. He was older than you so he knew about these things more than you. He was wiser. He was right, these things do happen. Wooyoung did apologize too. So maybe it’s not as bad as you were making it out to be.

Hongjoong noticed how you sat up a little, no longer sulking so cutely in the passenger seat. He smirked a little to himself, his eyes on the road. Did you trust his words that much? Was that how much power he had over you?

You were too innocent it concerned him.

You were truly a doe in a field of flowers. So pretty and so completely oblivious to the wolves hiding in the tall grass. He was sure your boyfriend was one of them and that he too had a deep dark desire for your innocence.

“Is this your place?” He pulled up outside an apartment complex, people passing by in the street as he looked up at the building observing it.

“Yes, it is!” You chirped, happy that you were able to get home safely and it was all thanks to your kind and sweet professor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kim. I really appreciate it. I really cannot thank you enough…and talking to you made me feel better. I’m really lucky that you were here tonight.”

Hongjoong smiled, holding back from reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to scare you away.

“If you ever find yourself in any kind of trouble, Ms. L/N, you can come to me okay? Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting his card but writing down his personal phone number in the back of it before holding it your way.

Like he expected you didn’t think much of it, what a sweet girl.

“Mr. Kim you’re so kind.” You took the pretty name card with his phone number in the back. “I don’t get into trouble but I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Let me help you get inside, okay?” He got out of his car with an umbrella, going over to your side to open the passenger seat door and to hold the umbrella over you and him so that he could escort you to your apartment lobby.

You stepped out of the car and blushed when you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to gently guide you to the sidewalk and your apartment lobby. He made sure you were dry and safe and also took note of how an access card is needed to get in. He was glad you lived somewhere so safe.

You thanked him again, unable to look him in the eyes because the warm smile on his face was making your heart flutter.

“Now I can go home without worrying if you got back safe,” he lightheartedly teased, making you giggle. He was such a kind person. “Take care of yourself, Ms. L/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Enjoy your weekend, Sir.” You bowed your head respectfully, appreciating how handsome he was in his coat and suit. It made him look like a character from the dramas you see on television.

Monday rolled around quicker than you thought while Hongjoong found the weekend went by agonizingly slow. As he set up his laptop in the lecture hall as other students filed in, he couldn’t help but anticipate your arrival. He kindly smiled and greeted the students who had the energy to wish him a good morning, he even kept glancing at your seat that was still empty.

Were you not well? Did you catch a cold over the weekend from the rain on Friday night?

“You really didn’t have to walk me, Woo.”

Your gentle soft voice made the professor perk up and his heart race a little. Subtly, he glanced at the door, more students entering but behind them in the hall was you.

“Hey, I still feel guilty about not having picked you up on Friday. I’m gonna make it up to you.” Wooyoung placed his hand on your waist, feeling the soft fabric of your skirt. “You’re too nice if you’re just gonna let me off the hook. I’m gonna be extra attentive, okay baby?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the young dark-haired boy, his varsity jacket telling everyone that passed who he was and the status he had in the university. He zeroed in on the hand on your waist, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing you gently and his fingers even playing with the cute ribbons on your skirt.

“O-okay,” you blushed, trying to fight back the giddy smile that was forming on your face.

Wooyoung grinned at your response and glanced left and right before pulling you closer til you were pressed against him. Your wide eyes looked up at him in surprise and you got your body tingling when both his hands rested on your waist.

Your fluster only made your handsome boyfriend grin even more with that twinkle in his eyes that always made you feel special.

“You have a nice day, okay?” He whispered and before you could respond, without a care in the world and with no shame if any other student passing would see, he leaned down and kissed your glossed lips.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. This was different from the soft pecks and quick kisses he’d give, these were the kisses you liked from him. The deep ones that made your head feel all hazy. The one that made heat pool in your lower belly.

Wooyoung pulled back and pressed another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

“O-okay.” You murmured, feeling everyone’s curious eyes on both of you and wanting to remain hidden by Wooyoung’s form.

Wooyoung smiled and then licked his lips. “Oh? Strawberry?”

The mention of your flavored lip gloss made you look up at him, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna have me craving you all morning, baby.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “How will I ever survive? One more.” He tried to go for another kiss and you squealed as he pulled you back.

“Woo, I have class!”

“But strawberry!” He pouted as he kept you in his embrace, some students rolling their eyes at the two of you and some finding the two of you cute and amusing. Wooyoung’s teammates from down the hall caught wind of the two of you and hooted.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ll be starting my lecture soon.”

The voice of Mr. Kim made your eyes widen as embarrassment made you want to hide from his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung spoke his professor's name with no shame of getting caught being affectionate with his girlfriend. “Morning!”

Hongjoong could only manage a nod to his greeting before turning to you, still in your boyfriend’s hold and unable to look him in the eyes.

“Ms. L/N, class starts in five minutes.” He spoke sternly, his tone making your lips form a small pout.

The way you reacted to him made the older man before you swoon. God, you were too cute.

“Yes, sir.”

There it was again. The way you said ‘sir’ all defeated and cute.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Wooyoung apologized. “My bad.” He removed his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, baby.”

Then Wooyoung sauntered away with a swing in his step and his bag over one shoulder, on his way to his respective class.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” You murmured, keeping your gaze down and hugging your books to your chest as you went inside the room along with the last few students who arrived.

Hongjoong watched as you made your way to your seat. Your pretty skirt swayed with each step and he wondered if skirts made up most of your wardrobe. It must be such a delight for your boyfriend.

Loosening the grip he had on his pen as he watched the whole interaction between you and Wooyoung, he smiled at his students. What mattered the most to him was you were safe. You were here and you were safe and well. Never mind the fact that you and your boyfriend easily made up from Friday night’s incident.

You were here.

The lecture was an enjoyable one not only for the students but him as well. As he discussed the significance of art during the Roman Empire, his students were all hooked in with his explanations and discussions, and even he got carried away excitedly with every question and topic.

“Mr. Kim is so hot.” A classmate beside you, Jennie, whispered to her friend, the two of them giggling as your professor shared his knowledge with the class.

“And he’s so nice too. You think he’s a virgin?” Minsol whispered back and you felt your heart grow hot listening to them.

You fidgeted in your seat and tried to block them out, focusing on Professor Kim.

“He’s so young to be a professor. Maybe he spent all that time studying to the max, you know! Maybe he is!”

“He’s so cute.” Minsol chuckled. “But then he’s so sexy when he pushes his hair back.”

And almost as if on cue, Mr. Kim ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, pushing them back as he smiled at his students in awe at the discussion.

He was handsome. You admitted that a long time ago. Attractive? Yes. But he was your professor. It was wrong to think of him the way Jennie and Minsol were.

Til now, their voices couldn’t be blocked out completely.

“I’d gladly blow him for a good grade,” Jennie whispered, her eyes looking Hongjoong up and down.

“Jennie!” Minsol playfully smacked her friend, her voice still hushed.

“What? Just think of it. Goody two shoes Mr.Kim so kind and worried that your grades are slipping, and then you tell him you’d do anything to raise your grade.” Jennie described the scenario so vividly. “No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you listened to the fantasy. It didn’t help that Mr. Kim was right there before your eyes as Jennie’s voice whispered discreetly to her friend such a scandalous scenario.

“But it won’t stop there.”

That piqued your interest and you felt ashamed to have been so curious.

“He has a nice car too. Imagine fucking in the backseat of that luxury car way past campus hours in secret.”

Your heart thumped strongly at the mention of his car. You had been in his car and the dirty thought of Mr. Kim being all over your body and kissing you in the spacious backseat crossed your mind.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned all his students, happy that they were enjoying the class but paused when he saw you. Your body was swallowed by your boyfriend’s big varsity jacket and you looked flustered, even biting your glossed lips, fidgeting in your seat.

Then he saw the two girls next to you giggling and gossiping. What were they talking about that was making you blush so much? Briefly, your eyes moved from your notebook and locked with his but you immediately looked down when you saw that he had been looking your way.

Hongjoong could only assume they were talking about him. In what way? He wasn’t sure but it was a way that was making you look even shyer and could he dare say, hot and bothered?

Then the bell rang.

“Alright, we’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday and I’ll hand you all your Renaissance art period essays that I already graded then. Have a nice day.” Hongjoong’s elegant and calm voice echoed in the lecture hall, as he made his way behind his desk, sitting out the papers.

A chorus of thanks was sent his way as the students little by little exited the lecture hall. He looked your way, watching as you packed your things and gathered your books.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jennie turned to you. “How are you and your stud of a boyfriend?”

“Oh, m-me and Woo?” Your lashes fluttered so prettily as Hongjoong pretended he couldn’t hear you and the girls.

“Yeah! We saw you two being all cute and kissy out in the hall.” Minsol chuckled as she touched up her makeup with powder.

“We’re great.” You couldn’t stop the happy smile on your face as you thought of your boyfriend.

“He’s your first boyfriend, right? Have you two…you know….”

Your brows furrowed. “Have we what?”

Hongjoong fought his sigh at how oblivious you were.

Minsol’s eyes widened as she snapped her compact closed and leaned over. “You guys haven’t?”

“What are you two talking about?” You tilted your head like a puppy.

The two girls exchanged looks of shock.

“Y/N…” Jennie leaned closer, lowering her voice even further but Hongjoong’s ears were sharp. “Are you a virgin?”

Immediately, your face was burning as you hugged your books to your chest, wanting to cover your face with Wooyoung’s jacket.

“Holy shit!” Minsol exclaimed then realized she had been loud. She looked towards the whiteboard and saw Mr. Kim looking at the three of you questioningly. “Uh…sorry Mr. Kim!”

Hongjoong only smiled and he shook his head, returning to his papers and was glad that he was sitting behind his desk as the idea of you never being touched morphed from shock and into desire. He kind of guessed you were…but dating the star athlete and heartthrob of the campus made him second guess that you were.

“Girl, you need to come with us!” Jennie hooked her arm with yours and Minsol on the other as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall.

“Bye, Mr. Kim!” They chimed as they dragged you out with them.

“B-bye, sir.” Your little voice reached his ears as the three of you finally left him alone in the empty hall.

Hongjoong hunched over, crossing his arms on his desk as he groaned.

You were driving him insane.

What’s worse was that you didn’t even intend to do so.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

As the afternoon passed, Hongjoong made his way to his office. The hall was empty as students were in their classes or their club activities. It was peaceful til he heard hushed whispers ahead from an empty classroom, the door only slightly ajar.

The professor frowned. Were there students doing another weed deal on campus? Before concluding, through the very small gap of the wooden double doors, he took a peek.

“S-someone could walk in.”

Was that his sweet Y/N’s voice? Hongjoong’s heart began to race.

“Baby, I promise no one is. This room is always vacant at this hour.” Wooyoung reassured you, kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, specifically caressing your thighs that were parted as he stood between them.

Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.

Perched on the large mahogany desk, was you. Your skirt was hiked up higher as your boyfriend pressed against you, his paws all over your soft body, feeling you through your clothes.

“You look so sexy in my jacket,” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, his hand moving lower til they were under your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you looked during lunch.”

You softly yelped when his fingers pressed against your core through your cotton panties. “W-woo!”

“Awe, baby, are you getting wet? All for me?”

“W-woo,” you whimpered when he traced his fingers along your slit, embarrassed at the dirty talk.

“Fuck, you’re soaking through your panties, baby. Tell me you want me to touch you. Ask me and I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

You wanted him to keep touching you but you felt a little guilty. You had started to feel hot way earlier than your boyfriend knew. Jennie and Minsol’s hushed whispering from class about Mr. Kim…ashamedly had made you ache.

“M-make me feel good, Woo.”

Your boyfriend groaned against your neck, rubbing you through your panties. “My pretty baby. You deserve so much.”

Your back arched when he applied more pressure to your clit.

“I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise…. but I won’t make your first time here in a classroom.” He kissed your neck messily, licking your skin.

“But Youngie…” you didn’t want him to stop touching you. He has touched you like this many times before when he came over but it never went past that. He didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for but as time passed and the more you fell for him, you’ve been wanting to go all the way with him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum. I’ll be a good boyfriend and let my pretty girlfriend cum.” He kissed your forehead, slipping his hand under your panties to truly feel you. “You’re so wet, baby.” He moaned, collecting your slick and spreading it all over your pussy.

“Youngie,” you whimpered, gripping his shirt as your thighs trembled at the delicious friction.

“I love it when you call me that,” he sighed, repressing the urge that he indeed in fact wanted to ruin his pretty untouched girlfriend. He loved you and he wanted to treat you right as best as he could. You weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. He liked how you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

Your thighs squeezed at his sides unable to close as he continued to play with your pussy, touching you heavily and the way you liked. You couldn’t help but softly moan and pant at the intoxicating pleasure.

Hongjoong was burning with jealousy. A part of him wanted to disrupt the two of you and scold the two of you for misconduct as he had every right as a professor to do so. But…you looked so pretty falling apart for your boyfriend. Brows furrowed as your lips part and sigh, the setting sun hitting your skin in such a way that the lewd imagery before him was like a movie. He could feel his desire straining in his trousers. He wanted to watch.

“Youngie,” you whimpered so prettily.

Hongjoong took note of how your back arched when Wooyoung nibbled and kissed at a spot on your neck. You must be extra sensitive there. He also imagined how soft your breasts would be if he was the one cupping them through your cute blouse.

“You close baby?” Wooyoung rasped against your ear, rubbing your clit faster, making you lean your head forward to rest on his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, his right hand leaving your breast to grab you by the chin, making you look at him. “Let me see your pretty face, baby.” He swiped his thumb over your lower lip and bit his lip when you suddenly took his digit into your mouth, softly sucking on it. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? “C’mon, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”

You released his thumb with a soft pop, your lips even glossier from your gloss and saliva. You were panting and moaning so cutely, Wooyoung felt he was going to cum in his pants just at the sight of you getting off his fingers. He massaged your clit faster, watching the way your lids began to droop as you blinked up at him hazily and your lips part in a cute little ‘o’.

“Youngie!” You cried out, back arching and thighs trembling as you reached your high, your pussy dripping more arousal all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty baby.” Wooyoung cooed, enjoying your fucked out expression. It was addicting really. His sweet innocent girlfriend falling apart for him. If you were this fucked out by just fingers, he can’t imagine how fucking delectable you looked when he finally fucked you.

Hongjoong bit his lip as he watched you come down from your high. How your arms wrapped around your boyfriend as he slowed his circles on your clit. He wished he could see how your pussy looked, how wet it was, and how sweet the nectar it produced.

Wooyoung took his hand from your panties and brought his fingers to his lips, your eyes widening. His hand left its grip on your face.

“W-woo!”

That didn’t stop him from letting his tongue dart out to lick his digits. “You taste so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll come up tonight once I drop you off and really have a good taste of you.”

You blushed at his words and felt heat spark in your lower belly at what he hinted. Did he mean that he was going to kiss and taste you down there? With his tongue? The idea made your cheeks grow hot but that only made your boyfriend grin.

“Oh? You’re not opposed to it?” He teased, enjoying the way you only huffed and pouted your pretty lips. “Here, baby. Taste yourself.”

Hongjoong watched as you wearily, so curiously, poked out your cute tongue to lick your boyfriend’s fingers. How did you taste? Did you like it? You batted your lashes up at your boyfriend who awaited your verdict.

“So? How do you taste?” He took your hand in his other one, just relishing the moment you two had in the orange sunset-lit classroom.

“G-good.”

“Atta, girl.” Wooyoung grinned, taking you into his embrace and kissing you again.

Hongjoong felt his head pound from how hard he was in his pants. He wanted a taste. He needed a taste.

How was he going to get close to you when you and your boyfriend were all fine and dandy again?

“What do you say, baby? Friday night? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll bring your favorite strawberries coated in chocolate. Then maybe…” he caressed your cheek. “We could go all the way?”

“W-won’t it hurt?”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s hearts ached at your sweetness.

“Well, when Friday rolls around, and you’re not up for it. It’s okay. We’ll just have a cozy little date and make out. I’ll wait for you when you’re ready. Okay?”

His gentle voice along with his care for you made your stomach flutter. “O-okay.” You leaned your cheek into his palm. “I love you, Woo.”

“I love you too, baby.”

While you and Wooyoung basked in the moment you two found yourselves in, Hongjoong made a beeline to his office and locked the door. He glanced down and saw the bulge of his cock poking through his tailored trousers. He threw his head back, slamming it against the door as he groaned.

He was going to have to take care of it himself cause it wasn’t going to go away til he did.

He didn’t know when the stalking— okay, in his defense, following and keeping an eye on you, started.

All Hongjoong knew was, he needed to get to know you. He needed to get closer somehow, be a friend. Someone you could turn to and cry to. Plus, you lived alone, away from your parents. You needed someone to protect you.

From all the wolves that surrounded you, including that boyfriend of yours.

As he passed the baseball field from where he parked his car, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of young wolf pups gathered and talking beneath the morning sun. They all wore the same varsity jacket, making Hongjoong’s pack of wolves analogy even truer.

“So? Did you and Y/N go all the way yet?” The Vice Captain of the team asked, the young and handsome Mr. Choi.

The rest of the boys began to nudge and tease their Captain who had been tossing the baseball in his hand nonchalantly.

“Yeah, have you and little Miss all prim and proper done more than just second base?” The tallest of them, Song Mingi, joined in the teasing, the boys all grinning and tossing oo’s and ah’s. “Your girl has a nice ass.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung harshly hissed at his teammate. “Yeah, and that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame Mingi. You’re with the campus’s dream girl.” Jongho added, running his fingers through his brown hair.

“Dream girl?” Wooyoung’s brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Sure she’s lowkey and literally the nicest person on campus. Hell, she even helped me with calculus. I even thought of asking her out on a date.” San chirped. “But you got to her first. Anyway, that’s beside the point, did you guys finally do it? Friday night?”

Hongjoong remained hidden behind the shadows of the bleachers, needing to know the answer to San’s question.

“We didn’t. She got nervous and you know, I have to be a good boyfriend and wait. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s a nice girl.” Wooyoung finally responded, his answer earning a groan from his friends.

Mingi stared at him for a moment. “You should be a saint. That amount of self-control is crazy.”

“Well, good things come to those who wait, Mingi.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m a hundred percent sure my girl is worth the wait and more.”

“You’re really down bad for her, huh?” Jongho laughed softly, actually admiring the fact that Wooyoung was becoming a better guy with you.

“Y-yeah…she is. I really love her.”

“I just can’t believe she fell for you. After all the girls you slept with in the past and the parties. She still fell for Jung Wooyoung. Anyways,” Jongho clapped Wooyoung on the back. “I hope you get some soon.”

San wouldn’t relent though.

“Has she at least been…you know….giving? I know you worship the fuck out of her in different ways but has the pretty princess given back?”

Hongjoong should head back to his office before he’s caught but…he needed to know the details.

“San, she doesn’t know how.”

Wooyoung’s response made San groan and Hongjoong fought back his own.

“She’s a fucking angel your girlfriend.” San huffed his crush on you not concerning Wooyoung as he knew San would never cross the line.

“Dude, when you get to teach her, it’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Mingi sighed, thinking of who to contact for his next hookup. He needed to fuck.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but agree. To teach someone as beautiful and pretty as you, how to use your cute mouth and delicate hands…the fantasy of you between his legs while he sits on his office couch…guiding you while you look up at him for him to lead you…the young pups have a point.

“Okay, can you guys chill and not talk about my girlfriend like that?” Wooyoung lightly scolded his friends. “Anyways, you guys better be on your best behavior for tonight’s practice. I'm driving Y/N home for our date and I really don’t want to have to bail again because Coach isn’t happy with our performance.”

“We’ll do our best,” San spoke for them, sending a pointed glare to Mingi and Jongho, they’re bickering always getting their Coach to overtime their practices. “But coach hasn’t been in a good mood as far as I know.”

Wooyoung swore under his breath, worry bubbling in his chest when he imagined your disappointment and the way your eyes become glassy as you fight back tears. He really didn’t want to make you feel like he didn’t care about you again…he knew you understood his obligations to his team. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget to update you this time and keep you waiting for him.

Hongjoong didn’t stay long after that. He went off his merry way back to his office, wondering if tonight would be another chance to have some time with you again. Be your knight in shining armor if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up again.

All he needed to do was stay in your good graces.

After all, he just wanted to take care of you…

It began with longer conversations after class, asking how you were doing and if you understood the lecture or not. Then when midterms started to round the corner he would casually stay past campus hours just so that he could ‘by chance’ be finishing up late at the same time you were finished up studying in the library.

But this time, when he found you, the sun was beginning to set and you were in one of the library aisles, in the sections students don’t frequent, on the floor hugging your knees to your chest. Your back was against the tall wooden bookshelf and you were by the window, your head below the window pane as you softly sniffled.

Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. What did your boyfriend do?

“Ms. L/N?” As softly as he could, he called out to you and he saw you visibly stiffen.

“M-Mr. Kim?” You kept your head down, too embarrassed to look up at him because he would see the tears and puffiness in your eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He slowly approached, observing your body language if you would shrink away from him. He kneeled before you. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the way it quivered as you wanted to tell him exactly what happened but you were crying over something so silly.

A gentle warm hand softly patted your head, your heart stopping at the touch. Maybe you could tell him everything. Besides…he has been so kind to you and only ever wanted to make sure you were okay. When the two of you spent time together and talked, you would sometimes forget he was your professor and not just a friend.

And yet, your heart couldn’t help but want to be in the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be gentle with it.

When you lifted your head to look at him, the tears in your eyes had Hongjoong almost falling to his knees and wanting to embrace you right then and there. “I’ll take you to my office okay?” He offered, taking out his handkerchief and putting it in your trembling hands.

“O-okay.” You murmured.

With a guiding arm around your shoulders and making sure no wandering eyes would see the two of you, the likelihood being low since it was past class hours, the varsity teams were training and it was a Friday, he led you to his office.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, clutching his handkerchief in your hand, a part of your brain contemplating the idea of being vulnerable in your professor's office. It was highly inappropriate. Should anyone find out—

You were torn from your thoughts when a pair of warm arms wrapped around you so gently. You blinked a couple of times unable to process what was happening and the beating of your heart. Hongjoong cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, your cheek brushing against his neck.

“It hurts to see you cry.” He whispered, unable to hold himself back from soothing you then he pulled away and led you to the leather couch in his office.

You sat on one end while he was on the other, the gap between you reminding you of the intrusive thought of the distance you and Wooyoung might have soon…

“What’s wrong, darling? You can tell me, you know. I’m always here to lend an ear. Whatever it is I won’t judge you, especially when it hurts you this deeply.”

Hongjoong tried to meet your eyes that were cast down on your fingers on your lap, fiddling with his handkerchief. Was it your boyfriend? He swore if it was Jung Wooyoung he was going to teach that boy a lesson.

Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to speak freely to him.

A moment of weakness?

“I-I overheard Youngie’s friends when I was in the library…they were about to leave for practice and…” you felt that lump in your throat creep up higher, making you want to sob again as you remembered what they said. “They said that they felt b-bad for him.”

Bad for him?

“It’s a bit…tmi…sir. I’m sorry it’s hard to speak about it.” You stared at the edge of your skirt, feeling the shame and embarrassment you had felt earlier crawling on your skin.

“Ah? TMI.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing to make it comfortable for you to tell him. “Well, Ms. L/N, we are two adults, aren’t we not? Plus, it’s after university hours. I’m here for you right now as a friend and I’d like to help soothe your troubles if you would let me.”

It was almost too easy the way you caved into his words. Jung Wooyoung did not deserve a sweet girl like you.

“Youngie’s teammates…said they feel bad for him because I haven’t…” you paused, heat blooming in your tear-stained cheeks. “I haven’t slept with him.” Then you felt that ache in your heart return. “I don’t want to lose him, Mr. Kim. I love him so much. I-I want to be a good girlfriend.”

Hongjoong’s heart broke. His beautiful wilted rose. How dare those dumb boys speak so ill of you?

“You’re a good girlfriend I’m sure, Ms. L/N.” He reassured you with such calmness, his words made you perk up a little. “You didn’t hear these words from Wooyoung himself right?”

You nodded.

“But even though…I still want to make him feel good. He always makes me feel…” you trailed off, realizing that you were talking about the intimate things you and your boyfriend do. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with Wooyoung like that…I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Disappoint him how?”

“Wooyoung has been with girls…with experience. He’s my first boyfriend and he’s the first man to ever touch m-me…kiss me…”

Hongjoong was fighting back the attraction grew the more you spoke about your lack of experience. He couldn’t believe those boys had you questioning your worth all because you were scared to go all the way with your boyfriend.

“I-I even tried watching…videos…on how I can do things for Wooyoung…but I just am too scared to initiate it. What if I do something wrong and it goes horribly?”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about that. I’m sure your…” Hongjoong held himself back from saying what he said with jealousy. “…boyfriend would be more than happy to teach you. Has he offered to?”

You shook your head.

“Ah…I see.” Hongjoong sat back, trying to think of what to say next. “I’m pretty sure what you lack is practice…” he trod carefully, gauging your expression with each word he was choosing. “You’ll never know til you give it a try. With everything in life, you learn as you go.”

He watched as you took each word seriously, a rather sweet pensive look on your face as you nodded at his advice. Hongjoong hoped he didn’t cross the line by saying that and made things awkward between the two of you.

“If I may speak as another human being helping another,” Hongjoong continued, hoping to calm your stormy mind. “I just hope you don’t feel pressured to do anything with your boyfriend or anyone. It’s very sweet of you to want to do something this intimate with someone you desire but I’d rather you won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, going over all the caring and sweet affirmations Mr. Kim was giving you. How was it you felt so safe with him? He was too kind to you…yet you enjoyed the company he gave.

When Wooyoung wasn’t able to take you home from extended practices and last minute cancellations and texts, Professor Kim was always there to somehow salvage the day. To stop the breaking of your heart with his warm smile and effort to get to know you and make conversation.

“M-Mr. Kim…”

You finally spoke. Hongjoong smiled warmly at the call of his name. He observed how your cheeks began to flush. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hesitate to continue. You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be brave and look him in the eye.

“Could you guide me?”

Nothing but your voice rang in his ears at this moment. Hongjoong was shocked by the question. Was it a question? With the way your eyes were bleary and glossy, how your lips were trembling, and how flustered you appeared. It was a plea.

“Ms.L/N….” He tried to resist as much as he could, knowing that if he were to cross the line, he wouldn’t be able to go back. You were his forbidden desire. If he were to take a bite, he would want nothing more than to consume you.

You knew what you asked was silly and inappropriate, and a part of you regretted asking but if you were to leave this room right now, all you would be able to think about was how Wooyoung’s friends talked about you and wonder how much Wooyoung shared to his friends about yours and his relationship.

Mr.Kim looked speechless and flustered from what you asked of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

“Mr.Kim, I-I’m so sorry,” you quickly blurted out, trying to salvage the odd atmosphere. “Please forget everything I said. Thank you so much for comforting me—

"Are you sure you want me to help, Ms. L/N?” Hongjoong stopped your rambling, taking your hand that you hadn’t realized was trembling from nerves but the moment he spoke and he touched you, your body found a sense of calm. “I just don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret.”

Oh, he wanted to help.

“I-I wouldn’t have asked anyone else but you...I feel safe with you.” You mumbled shyly, staring at his pretty hand holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles.

“Your trust in me is something I shall cherish and I wouldn’t dare break it.” He looked you in the eyes as he said that, the warmth and intensity of them made your heart flutter. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly professional and I’ll make sure to put your comfort first.”

Your heart fluttered again. “O-okay.”

“How would you like this to go?”

“I-I’m not sure…Wooyoung usually takes the lead whenever we do anything more than kissing…” you were speaking so softly, it was pulling at Hongjoong’s heartstrings. You were so precious. “I wouldn’t mind you taking the lead…teach me how to make Wooyoung feel good.” You squeezed his hand nervously and he kept his soft smile on his face, hiding his excitement.

You’ll let him take the lead?

“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with okay?” He caressed your cheek fondly, forcing himself to not brush your lips with his thumb. “Tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, feeling all tense as he got closer.

Sir? Were you trying to kill him? He scooted closer, your knees touching his own. “Do I have permission to touch you, darling?”

The pet name made you feel just a little bit more hotter. The way he said it, his voice a low purr, made you feel things you thought you’d only feel with Wooyoung.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Experimentally, he slowly glided his hand up the side of your thigh, the sweet gasp falling from your lips making him smirk against your neck. He brushed his lips against your neck, before whispering in your ear. “You’ve watched videos as research, correct?”

You stuttered out your response, feeling your body grow warm with the way his hand smoothed up and down your thigh, never going higher than where your skirt stopped. “I did…” Was it wrong that you wanted his hand to move higher?

Hongjoong held back from kissing your neck, testing the waters of what exactly he could do to you. His hand moved to your waist now, caressing the curve of your side then stopping so that his thumb was just below the underside of your bra covered chest.

“Why don’t you show me what you learned, hm? Then I’ll guide you along the way.” He suggested, his tone going just a little lower than usual.

And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, between your professor's trousered thighs, your eyes looking at him with such uncertainty and the willingness to learn.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure you won't disappoint,” Hongjoong reassured you, petting your head lovingly while his thoughts were going wild at the mere sight of you all cute and demure between his legs.

“O-okay.”

As you had watched and observed, you placed your hands on his thighs. They trembled a little. What if you messed up here too? You shook the thought away. Professor Kim was going to guide you. You’ll be okay and then you’ll be able to make Wooyoung feel good too.

All of this was for Wooyoung.

You slowly slid your hands up his thighs feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers as you recounted the videos you had seen. You remembered how the woman in the video would trace her fingers over the man’s groin…but was Hongjoong even…turned on?

You remember how stiff Wooyoung would get when you were on his lap as you two made out, his hands running up and down your sides then over the curve of your ass, squeezing it.

Do you need to kiss Mr. Kim too?

Before asking, you experimentally softly placed your palm against his groin, blushing to find that he was hot and rather stiff through his pants. A shaky breath escaped him and you retracted your hand.

“W-was that not okay?”

“It was fine,” he managed a smile for you, getting hard at just how shy and sweet you were. “You’re doing fine.”

“O-okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, gliding your palm over his clothed groin before sliding higher, your other hand joining to unbuckle his belt.

Each gentle and inexperienced touch or ghost of your fingers over his crotch was making his cock twitch to life. It was so easy for him to be turned on…well…because it was you. It was endearing how focused yet nervous you were and once you tugged his briefs down low enough for his cock to spring up, your eyes stared at his length.

From his reclined position on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you, he was able to notice the way your thighs squeezed to tether at the sight of him.

Your face was hot as your eyes took in the sight of his cock. It was way more intimidating to see one in person than on a screen…was it odd for you to think it was rather pretty? The head was a soft pink and it glistened with something that made your tongue somehow itch to want to try and wrap your mouth around him. Would he fit in your mouth? Would he fit in— you stopped yourself from thinking that. You can’t go all the way with Mr. Kim, you were going to do that with Wooyoung.

Feeling his warm gaze on you, you gently wrapped your hand around his length. The feeling of him hot and heavy in your palm, the girth of him, made your core pulse.

Hongjoong bit his lip at the gentle touch, the smoothness of your palm, and the dainty way you held him making him sensitive to whatever you were doing. He knew it wasn’t on purpose that you were prolonging any sort of movement, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Tell me what you learned,” he managed to speak calmly. “Or what you observed.”

Squeezing your thighs together and inching closer to get into a comfortable position, you thought of what to answer. “In the videos…the girls take their partner in their mouth…and some just move their hand…I'm not sure what to do next, I’m sorry.” You looked away, embarrassed.

This was exactly why you never initiated it with Wooyoung. If you did and you messed up or did not even follow through, he would’ve mentioned it to his friends somehow in their talks.

Hongjoong saw how nervous you were and tried to suppress the desire to command you what to do and how you should do it, he placed his hand over yours that was softly holding his cock. He couldn’t be mean to you…as much as he wanted to completely control you and make you feel pleasure that would have you falling apart for him, he wanted to be gentle with you.

“I’ll guide you, okay?” His other hand petted the top of your head, making the nerves yo I had been feeling dwindle. You nodded.

“You have to spit on it first, sweetheart.”

His words made your eyes widen. The dirty notion was embellished with a sweet term of endearment. Hearing it from him, from the mouth where only kindness, care and knowledge was all you heard come out of it, made you feel warm.

“Spit on it?”

“I know it sounds odd but it’ll help. I’ll guide you on how to use your hand first. Don’t be shy, darling.”

His encouragement only made you want to do as he says. You told yourself it only feels weird because you’ve never done it before and Mr. Kim was kind enough to help you be more confident when the time comes for you to do it with your boyfriend.

Leaning over, you collected your saliva and spat softly. Hongjoong bit back any sound that dared escape him at the moment not ready to break the promise of being professional for your sake but the warmth of your spit and how shyly you did it turned him on even more.

“Now,” he guided your hand. “Spread it around with my precum like this.” He loosely moved your hand, letting your dainty fingers be covered by the mix of your spit and his precum. “It’ll be easier to move your hand this way, it’ll feel good.”

You nodded, feeling the slickness against your palm and how it now easily glided along his length with his hand still over yours.

“You have to hold it just a little tighter.” He closed his hand over yours a little tighter but not too tight but just enough to tell you how much pressure you should be applying.

“L-like this?” You adjusted your grip and slowly while your hand moved in slow up and down motions, he removed his hand and a deep sigh of bliss left him.

“Just like that, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice dipped lower and his head rolled back a little, giving you the perfect view of his sharp jawline and pink lips.

Your eyes kept shifting from his face and to his cock in your hand, entranced somehow by the idea of how he was feeling good by just your hand. Watching a video was completely different from actually doing it. You recalled the way a girl in a video would twist her hand as she glided her hand up and down, and you decided to try the motion.

Hongjoong hissed out a curse at the new movement. “That feels good.” His hips bucked up a little, pushing his cock up in your hand.

Feeling a little braver, you leaned forward to press your lips on the head of his cock, kissing it and feeling heat surge to your core at how warm the tip was against your lips.

Hongjoong lifted his head from its thrown back position to look at you, the sudden sensation of your soft lips on his cock turning him on further.

“You want to try that already?” He asked, his hand gripping the armrest of the couch when your doe eyes looked up at him so innocently, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and nodded, it was driving him crazy. It was getting harder and harder to retain any sense of composure. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you learned. You’re already doing so well. You look so cute like this too.”

His words of praise and compliments made both your heart and core throb. It made you try even harder to please him. You wondered if it was okay that you were getting wet. You could feel your slick sticking to the gusset of your panties and against the lips of your pussy.

Hongjoong moaned softly when he felt your hot tongue swirling around his cock head. He twitched within your hand continued their rhythmic twisting and up and down rhythm. He watched as you tasted him. He could see the way your brows furrowed at the taste and when he felt you take more of him in your mouth and suckle at the sensitive tip of his cock, you were making it harder for him to not buck his hips up into your pretty mouth.

“You doing okay?” He asked, gently placing his hand behind the back of your head, caressing you.

You nodded, humming, the vibrations of your sound adding some extra pleasure to the way you were giving him head.

“F-fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”

The way he said that made your pussy clench. Why did that have some effect on you? It sounded so hot coming from him and it made you want to please him even more.

Eventually, you took what you could of him in your mouth, fighting back your gag reflex and bobbing your head shallowly along his cock. Your hand continued to jerk what you couldn’t fit of his length in your little mouth. You were aching so bad, you couldn’t help but let your free hand slide between your thighs to find your pussy, surprised at how wet you were. It was easy to spread your arousal all over your cunt and begin massaging your clit the way you liked, settling for the friction of your fingers.

Hongjoong noticed your dainty hand between your legs. The sight of you suckling and bobbing your cute head up and down along his cock, and touching yourself was sending him to the edge. Plus your lips tinted with pink gloss were mixing with your saliva as you continued to suck him off. You were so fucking cute.

“I’m close darling. You’re doing so well. You had nothing to be so nervous about. F-fuck.” He shuddered when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you squeaked so adorably, the sound muffled. What a cute little slut you were touching yourself as you stuffed your little mouth with his cock. Though he was saying such sweet praises, deep down he wanted to fuck his cock into your mouth and watch you cry from taking him. He was betting you’d look up at him with wide pleading eyes with tears as you let him use you as his personal cock sleeve.

The mere thought of that sent him over the edge and without warning, he came. A small squeak left you as sudden hot spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. You latched off of him in surprise, your hand still pumping him as he came. His moans and the way his head was thrown back, made you stop touching yourself so you could focus fully on the way he climaxed all over your face.

“Fuck!” He groaned as his hand that was cradling your head gripped your hair and his hips bucked up into your hand, riding out his high. You whimpered as he tugged at your hair, the sensation making your clit throb. Why did that feel good? Why did having his release on your cheeks and in your mouth, turned you on?

“Open up, darling. Let me see.” Hongjoong tugged your hair back almost forcibly, his gaze almost predatory, it scared you a bit. You’ve never seen such a dark, menacing yet charming expression on your sweet and kind professor.

You parted your lips and he smirked.

He wondered if you knew just how cute and ruined your look right now. Pink gloss smeared over your lips and your cheeks flushed and stained with his white sticky cum, and the best of all, his seed was on your tongue.

He wished he could take a picture.

You didn’t realize you were breathing slowly as your heart was racing and he stared down at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t quite place.

“You look so pretty like this, darling.” His grip on your hair loosened and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb dipping into your mouth as you still obediently kept your lips parted for him. He smeared more of his cum all over your lips and chin, finding the idea of him on your skin so hot…it’s like he marked you. “Such a good girl.” He cooed and you didn’t know why you did what you did but you swallowed his salty release, and his reaction made it all worth it. “What a perfect girl you are.”

His praise only made your heart flutter, his words only feeding that part of you that wanted to please him…to please Wooyoung.

“D-do you think Woo will like it?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse as you sat there on your knees, looking up at him so sweetly.

Hongjoong held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy who didn’t deserve you. He masked his annoyance with a smile. “He’ll like it, darling. You did really well. I mean it.” He took his handkerchief and began to clean you up, gently dabbing your cheek.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you couldn’t stop the way a smile grew on your face at the approval from your most trusted mentor.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kim—

“Hongjoong.” He cut you off with a gentle smile, looking at you lovingly.

“What?” You stuttered that same feeling you felt earlier, the confusion of the same way he made your heart flutter like Wooyoung does.

“You can call me Hongjoong when it’s just the two of us, darling. I think with how close we’ve gotten…I’d like you to call me by my name. Don’t you think we’re rather close?”

There was something about his eyes that captivated you. It was so magnetic it was hard to not be completely wonderstruck and in control of that powerful gaze.

All you could do was nod.

“That’s a good girl…” he cooed, smiling warmly. “Perhaps, you need more guidance. You want to be a good girlfriend for your Wooyoung right?”

You did, you wanted to be the best girlfriend for him.

“I do…”

“Sometimes what you see online is not entirely reliable. I’m offering you…private lessons…doesn’t that sound good for you?”

You nodded, letting him pull you up on and onto his lap, gasping when your core pressed against his thigh.

“I’ll teach you all there is to know. I want what's best for you and for you to know exactly what you’re getting into.” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, slowly. “You don’t want to disappoint Wooyoung, right?”

“I don’t Sir…” you said so quickly.

So innocent. So naive. So dumb. So perfect for him to ruin.

He never thought he’d get to this point.

All this time, he has only ever admired you and desired you from afar. He kept his reputation as a well-loved and kind professor so that no one and you, especially you, would ever question his motives.

“Now, I think we should try this again. You did really well but I can teach you a little extra something that will make your boyfriend so, so, so happy.”

feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl with you and I love feedback. It keeps me writing.

special tags : @khjcs @skteezcursed @caityelise99

[bluejutdae]

• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Seungmin x you

Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Jeongin

genre: friend to (implied) lovers

warnings: non graphic shitty date, nothing too specific

These have been the worst two weeks of your life. And it’s not just to say it. Sure, maybe other people had it worse, but yours was bad!

First: your boss blamed you for his mistakes in front of all your colleagues.

Second: you were so mad at him, you drank a bit too much (but apparently not enough to forget it) and decided it was the perfect moment to finally confess your love to your friend Seungmin.

He rejected you.

Something about being friends and not being the right moment and honestly? You stopped listening after having grasped the direction of his answer. Being rejected is the worst, and also the reason why you waited almost ten months to confess.

Third: you decided to go out with the first guy you met on a dating app just to try and forget about Seungmin and the awkward tension following your confession. And this is just the cherry on top: the guy was such an asshole you literally had to ran away from him and, in doing so, you:

1. Lost your purse

2. Fell down the stairs, slippery from the rain, spraining your ankle

3. Had to contact the last person you wanted to talk to, asking for his help.

So you’re now waiting for Seungmin, sitting at a small coffee shop, your penchant for keeping spare change on all your coats’ pockets is finally paying you back and you have just enough to order a scorching hot coffee to warm yourself.

Your ankle hurts and you hit your elbow on the stairs but you’re too scared to check it out. All this is less worse than the fact that you had to call him. Calling Seungmin is humiliating, but all your other friends are either out of town or too far to help you.

As you go to check the time on your phone, only a black display stares back at you. Because of course you forgot to charge your phone, why would something be in your favor? Luckily, it’s only a few minutes later when you see Seungmin enter the coffee shop.

“Sorry I had to call you”, you say as a greeting.

“You keep apologizing, it’s dumb.” Of course it is. Taking a deep breath you stand up trying not to put too much weight on your bad ankle and start walking towards the door. After just a couple of steps, Seungmin’s hand is on your arm, stopping you. “If you hurt your ankle, we should go to the hospital.”

“No, no thanks. A trip to the hospital is the last thing I need, right now. I just need my bed and to forget the last two weeks.” You try to walk but he’s holding you again, preventing you from going far.

“At least don’t walk on it.”

“Am I supposed to jump on my good foot? I’m wearing high heels.” You show him your heeled boots but it’s not enough to deter him.

“Just-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence but bends a little and in a second he scoops you up, one arm behind your knees and one behind your back. Your crush, to whom you confessed just a few days ago, just picked you up bridal style.

Nor your complaints or your attempts of being put down are effective, and Seungmin carries you to his car, setting you with your feet back on the ground just outside the car door. God, this is so awkward.

Once in the car, he’s quiet but you’re so tense you just open your mouth and start speaking.

“I’m sorry I texted you,” you apologize again, “I just-“

“How did you hurt your ankle?”

“I fell from the stairs, they were slippery from the rain.”

“Were you rushing somewhere?”

This is weird. You haven’t talked to him since the whole fiasco. You used to talk to him daily, silly conversations and serious talks; and now you haven’t talked for almost 10 days and you miss him so much, but how are you supposed to act after he rejected you?

“I was running away, actually.”

“From?” He’s driving, but every now and then he turns his eyes on you.

“From a guy I was on a date with.”

He wants to press down on the brakes right there and then, wants to scream at you and pinch whoever this guy is. But he knows it’s his fault. At least partially. He did reject you. True, he did it because you confessed and all he could think about was all the time he spent crushing on you (maybe even loving you?) and how it would inevitably end up with him hurting you, because you deserve better and he’s not boyfriend material. How can he give you what you deserve? He’s busy, dating openly would be dangerous for you, and you’re so pretty it hurts.

“Did he- what did he do?”

“Nothing that requires calling the police. But he was not a nice guy and to get out I left my bag there.”

“Are you okay? Ankle excluded.”

“Yes. Thanks for picking me up.” Why is it so hard? “I-“ You what? You miss him? You want him? You wanna go back to when you hadn’t confessed?

With a dry exhale, he puts his blinkers on and tersely pulls over. He turns off the car and turns to face you properly, a serious expression on his pretty face.

“You went on a date and the guy was so terrible you had to run away. And got hurt in the process. How is this okay?”

“Min, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” He sounds frustrated, and maybe it's because he had to come pick you up.

“Sorry you had to come pic-“

“STOP FUCKING SAY SORRY!” He never screams at you, not when you’re serious. He rubs his eyes and exhales loudly. “Where did you even meet this guy?”

“On a dating app.”

“Why the fuck are you on a dating app?”

“Because that’s how normal people meet someone who they might like.”

“But you already like someone.” Your blood turns cold, you weren’t expecting Seungmin to mention it. Is he mocking you? Wasn't it enough to be rejected?

“Seungmin.”

“You already like someone so why are you on a dating app?”

“To forget that someone I like, since it’s unreciprocated.” You mutter, annoyed by this conversation but not knowing how to stop it either.

“Why are you being so stubborn now?”

“I’m the one being stubborn? What do you want from me Seungmin!”

“Not to give up so fucking easily, maybe!”

“Why? So I have to suffer even more?” You shake your head and, in another situation, you’d leave this car. “You don’t like me like that, you made that clear.”

“I just said it because I didn’t know what to say!” He’s loud, like he never is. “I can’t give you what you deserve, but I don’t want you to want other men.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Very mature, Min.”

“Just don’t date.” He says it like it explains everything.

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Fuck, I can’t do this now. Can you just take me home please?”

“How are you gonna go in with no keys?”

“Fuck! Fuck fuck.” How did you not think about that? You have to go back and hope your bag hasn't been stolen. Your money’s probably gone, but maybe they left the keys. You rest your forehead against the cold window and take a deep breath.

“You can stay with me.” Seungmin offers, and his voice is so careful and you’re so tired, you nod and answer with a small yes.

The ride to Seungmin’s is quiet, and so is the time spent doing your night time routine. Brushing your teeth side by side, washing your face, trying to be quiet while letting him help you move from one room to another. You did it together lots of times, but now everything is so awkward. You’re about to ask him for some clothes to sleep in when he speaks.

“When I said I couldn’t be with you was because I am not fit to be a boyfriend and you deserve someone who gives all he has to make you happy and I don’t know if I can be that person. Not because I don’t like you, I really like you. I have feelings for you. Not the friend kinda feelings. The wanting-to-kiss-you feelings. And I don’t want you to have feelings for someone else. Can you- Can you wait and give me some time?”

You weren’t expecting his confession, this is a surprise for you. And it’s stupid that he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, cause he’s perfect in your eyes, but you’re not gonna belittle his worries.

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk uninterrupted.”

“This is all you have to say??”

“You can have all the time you want, Seungminnie. Just promise to talk to me when you reach a decision.” He nods solemnly, and then he gives you a small smile.

Neither of you knows what will happen, but for now you’ll cuddle together under the duvet and leave for tomorrow your worries.

(In a week, he tells you he’ll do anything necessary to prevent you from liking other guys. Which includes being your boyfriend and work hard to deserve your feeling. You tell him it’s stupid, because he already deserves them. He doesn’t believe you, but he kisses you anyway. It’s the best kiss of your life and when you call him your boyfriend for the first time, his smile is so bright you might have to invest on some good sunglasses.)

[bywons]

✢ ⠀ CRAWLING BACK TO YOU — PJS

━━━ ❛ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

( 𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝓓𝖤𝖢𝖮 ) 𝗉𝗃𝗌 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 ` ィ 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾? 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 1334 𝑤𝖼 && CATALOUGE

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“glad to kn-know i'm still relevant in your world,” jay pushes the door aside, stumbling to the side of your apartment door. back pressed against it with his head held high, he shoots you a smug smirk as he's almost about to slide down. “i knew you miss me, darling.”

he's drunk, it's clear as day. you don't miss out the little silver flask almost falling off from his hand and how he reeks of alcohol, who knows how many drinks he had this night. you don't even remember why you called him in the first place, it's 3 in the morning— both too early and late and scandalous to call a person, especially when it's your ex. especially when it's a drunk park jongseong.

“jay,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “what are you doing here?”

he chuckles, his laugh a mix of genuine amusement and intoxicated sloppiness. “you called, so here i am,” he says, attempting to stand up straighter but failing miserably. “couldn't leave you hanging, could i?"

you groan internally, cursing your impulsive decision. “fuck me,” you mutter. “come in before you wake up the whole building.” you literally drag him into your apartment before shutting the door close. jay collapses on the couch, a faint smirk still directed at you.

did you call him? everything in the past hour has been so obscure that you didn't even notice the dry tears on your cheeks until now, when a cool breeze caresses it, leaving an odd stretchy feeling against your dry skin. maybe it's a few glasses of wine, or a drunk call? maybe you called him to deal with the cockroach in your room which you know you can deal with yourself. or maybe it's the overwhelming loneliness that's been gnawing at you lately. regardless, calling jay at 3 in the morning wasn't your smartest move.

“now, why'd you call me?,” ah of course, now he will want to talk about your break up. he can barely make sentences, words overlapping each other in a somewhat coherent sentence, “3 am is definitely your timing.”

and the best way to ignore a drunk talking park jongseong? offer him water to sober down, because heck you can't understand anything. neither him nor this situation.

grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you hand it to him, watching as he struggles to sit up and open it before finally taking a sip.

“why did you call me?" he asks, voice softer now. the redness of his eyes and the bravado in his voice fading. he looks up at you, only a hands’ distance away from where he's sitting.

“i need you to ah—,” shit. eye contact with park jongseong still has the same effect on you, “help me move some furniture. you know, crazy landlady.” you let out a chortle.

“moving furniture? at 3 am?,” jay narrows his eyes, gaze piercing through you, it's obvious he doesn't believe you, “do i seriously have the word dumb tattooed across my face?”

jay doesn't move an inch from his place, eyes lying still on yours, an unspoken connection that's been missed by you both, a connection so palpable and mellow that it's still a residue in this messed up relationship. you realise how much you miss his eyes— he moves your heart by them and he's still. you wish you could kiss him right now, does he want that too? after all, why wouldn't he want that? no man is willing to stumble to their ex's apartment at 3 in the morning in a drunken state. that too after just one call which could've been an accident? jay definitely wants you back.

“no, no at all jay, i'm really—”

“you were with heeseung last week,” jay doesn't let you finish explaining yourself— before he gives you another mishap to explain. his eyes narrow down even more, he catches his lips between his teeth, “...i didn't like that.”

“you should've closed your eyes and walked out of the bar then, jay,” you snap. it's quite insufferable for park jongseong to be furious over the consequences of his actions. you had to return home late at night, and with no car how could you? you don't trust cabs at that hour, but you do still trust your ex. and when even the last option opts out himself you're left with something out of syllabus— his best friend. you have to go home! “don't start with that.”

“fair, want me to start with fixing ’seung?,” jay's words are colder than the flask he's carrying.

“jay you better not—”

“oh i won't,” jay scoffs, evident jealousy laced in his voice, “i have better things to do.”

it's only a split second, and you don't know when or how you end up under him on the sofa, his hand softly clasping around your wrist and the other encircling your waist. jay entangles his legs with yours, an impossible knot to get out of. there's still a drunken reflection in his eyes as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, hand caressing your cheeks. his eyes stunt yours, you're suddenly unable to speak as you feel his lips press down yours. they sloppily trace down to your cheeks to your jaws and neck. jay giggles in between, probably at your sudden silence, and the way he feels your hands pull his collar closer to you.

that's the most basic method to try and get back your ex. but you don't find yourself stopping him.

“so, this is the better thing?,” you scoff when you look up at him, jay leaves a final kiss on the crook of your neck before he hovers over you again.

his silver chain dangles from his neck, the coldness of it caressing the bridge of your nose, sending an electric wave down your spine. pairing up with his smug eyes and lazy grin is the deadliest combo ever, it's not good for you at all. should you really get back with him? kiss this better with him?

“the best thing,” jay whispers, “don't know why heeseung even tries,” he rolls his eyes, “you're mine, he should use his eyes.”

“am i really yours?,” you sigh, your hold on his black shirt's collars loosening as your eyes become glossy at the thought of something disturbing, “i saw you…with someone else too.” it felt weird somewhere to feel betrayed when you see some random girl clinging to your ex, even though you know jay probably brushed her off later but you didn't wait to see the scene.

“oh no no, love,” you expected jay to panic and chant ‘it was a mistake’, but you're glad he didn't live up to this expectation. he's confident about what he says, as he moves lower and closer to your face, tracing the bridge of your nose to your jaws, “i'm too busy being yours, there's no someone else.”

“aren't you being a little cheesy?,” a tiny smile hangs on your lips, threatening to turn into a laugh, as you play with his collars.

“can't even tell the truth now?,” it's his turn to grin, he takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss.

you can't help but let out a soft giggle at his words. it's only been a month since you two broke off, but jay still finds his way back to you, like you do too. at this moment jay's world is silent. this is the moment he's been waiting for. sober, with you, kissing you all over with a hope of a new starting. you are his vibrance, he can't afford to lose it.

“i could do anything for you. sorry i failed to make this clear earlier,” his smug expression is back on again.

“anything to come back to me?”

“anything i would die for you, fight for you,” jay confirms, and just like that his lips are back on yours again, “do you want me crawling back to you?”

a/n — uuuhh can u guess this was kinda a hurried writing TT i'm not really satisfied with this but I hope u enjoyed it ^^ pleek lmk ^^

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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