#i know i’ve done it before and i might do it again

[cookie-crumblr]

I miss professor reichsgraf

GN! Bad Student Reader x Professor OC!

Minors DNI

CW: GN! Reader, reader referred to as they/them, no body descriptions for reader, lots of swearing tbh lol, reader is RUDE (just because they’re sleepy! we still stan🥰) spanking, pet names for reader(good kitten, darling), Sub!Reader, reader has hair(not described just enough to grab), fingering (not specified which hole dw), nipple play, crying reader, tetro?, overstim, dubcon(no proper safeword), sado maso, p in hole, not proofread.

(IDK i hope it turned out okay, it doesn’t seem the way i want it, but i can’t tell rn if it’s just me T.T)

“You are, quite possibly the worst student i’ve ever had the misfortune of teaching.”

You mock him on the phone with your bestie.

“Stupid ass over qualified teacher.”

“Fur reaaaalll. my gods, what an asshole!” they respond.

“It’s too bad he’s so hot. What a waste.” You resume what you were doing and hold the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“I would tap, i wonder if he’s into that like teacher/student play…” they trail off.

“Ew. please don’t fantasize about my dickwad professor. At least with me around,” You feign gagging.

The next day in class you’re slouching, hoping to the gods that he just forgets you exist so that you can try and catch up on your assignments… But Fuck it’s so hard! You don’t have time for school work when you’re home, because you’re usually sleeping, after your two jobs. And all these pompous professors do is give homework!!! ALL OF THEM.

It’s the end of the ninety minute mark and you, along with everyone else, starts packing your things.

“Y/L/N. Stay behind a minute.” Professor Reichsgraf sighs, and tosses an empty cup into the trash can.

“Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhg!” You groan, thankfully the room is loud enough that he might not of even—

“Gods, you’d swear I told you that you’re going to jail,” He laughs. He’s sat behind the desk a little slouched like normal, head in a hand, elbow on a stack of papers (probably so it’s more comfortable) you tsk out loud at your thoughts, before pretending to yawn.

What a class A assho-

“Have a seat,” he asks.

“This will take that long??” You sigh out frustratedly.

“Gods, you young peop—”

“Oh don’t you ‘young people these days’ Me, mister!”

“It’s Doctor.”

“Oooo big dif. Fuck off” You cross your arms and roll your eyes.

He rolls his own, “Just sit.”

With a *plop*! into the seat, you do.

The professor stands, his hand lazily traces a knot in his desk as he rounds the table and approaches you slowly. “I don’t usually do this…”

“Woah, Um isn’t there like a rule against—”

“What!?” He furrows his brow then massages it quickly between his finger and thumb. “No, i’m offering to tutor you,” He sighs in annoyance.

“Oh really?” You would still really like to at least pass… “Okay fine.”

“What? really? no deals needed?” He looks you over.

shrugging, you say, “I mean what are you offering?”

“Nope, it’s a done deal, you already signed the dotted line crossed your t’s and all that.” He steps ever closer, and leans on the table you’re sat at.

“When do we start?”

~

You’ve had a few sessions with your professor but nothing seems to be working, the information just isn’t sticking until…

“Bend over.” Reichsgraf growls, head in his hand in frustration.

“Excuse me?” Your brows raise in shock.

“Bend over my knee, right now. You aren’t learning this way.”

You think at first he’s lying. Just trying to make you uncomfortable or something, maybe a bee flew into his coffee this morning so he’s taking it out on you. You don’t know. But you do it. You get down, lay over his lap and wait.

His hand massages your rump, “Now what’s the answer to number five?”

“A?”

A hand comes down onto your flesh with a *Smack!*

“Ow!” You yelp! “What the fuck!?”

“What is the answer to number five? Don’t just guess.”

“Is it not A?” You ask, it looks right… Right?

*SMACK!”

“OW!!” You yelp again, louder this time, it stings so much more the second time!

“You know the answer.”

“C!” You suddenly remember something he said about it yesterday, and he’s right, you did know the answer!

“Good job, I’m impressed.” He isn’t lying, he really is. Only two spanks on the first time? Maybe he had been hoping for more though, to be honest.

It’s a unique way to have to learn like this, but with you, he’s happy to oblige. All the time spent being frustrated that you couldn’t commit even the simplest knowledge to memory, he can finally get rid of…

“Okay now six.”

“Do we have to do the whole assignment like this?”

“Yes. Six.”

You shout, “A!”

*Smack!*

“Shit! I mean B!” You wince.

“You guessed again. Read the answer, and tell me why it’s correct.”

“Do i have to? I got it right that time.”

Suddenly the hand on your rear moves to your clothed sex, he presses down hard and trails along the divide. A gnawing heat starts to grow in your lower half quickly.

“Hey! wait-!”

“We don’t have the time. what is the answer to seven?”

“D!”

“Good Kitten,” His baritone seems even deeper somehow, as he rubs you harder, your jeans are getting too hot to bare. “We need these off.” He tugs on your back belt loop.

“Yeah…” You shock yourself when you agree so readily. You stand to unbutton them and get them off, but he slaps your hands away and takes your pants off for you.

Your body gets thrown around until your bent over the desk and the wood’s digging into your hip bones.

“Professor-!”

A growl escapes his throat. his hair is messier than usual when you turn back to look, before he grabs yours and steers you forward.

His fingers enter you first, already setting a fast pace, he curls them and scissors them; all while pistoning so fast you feel like you’re already teetering on the edge. “Such a good kitten, you’re doing so good for me,” He hums deeply in his throat.

You whine and wriggle, until he tenses his grip in your hair and on your hip. His hand fans out over your skin and gropes you the entire way up to your chest, pressing a traveling dent into your stomach and over your ribs. Your brows peak, and your mouth hangs open.

“Seven.”

“SERIOUSLY???” You stomp, way to take you out of it.

*SLAP!* Your ass was sore from the earlier abuse, to be slapped now stings so brutally!!!

“F-fuck!!” You shake.

“Seven. Now.” His hand is raised and prepped to hit you again.

You shimmy and jump, “No, no more please!!”

*SLAP!*

“AHH!” You screech! “ummm,” You read the question rapidly through bleary eyes, “D! D! It’s D!!!” You shout and writhe in his grasp.

“I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do this,” He rubs something cooling on your ass cheek and it feels so much better!

“Oh thank you thank you oh my gods.” you let out so much air you feel dizzy. His cock starts to rub against you, making your dizzy spell last longer. it’s so hot and hard and.. LONG! Holy shit it’s so long! You’re gonna be speared to death on that thing! You drool at the anticipation! “Fuck me.” You say it in a long groan as an expression but also mean it very much.

“You deserve it, you’ve been doing so good,” Holy shit, his words strike some heavenly chord that opens your pearly gates wide for him, and he enters without resistance, taking his time to really appreciate your interior.

“Holy shit!” You can’t help the obscenities, they just fall from your lips naturally, you’re so surprised at all of this, at yourself for willingly doing it, at your hot teacher for wanting you in the first place, at so many things…. Most of all at how HOT his dick is like molten lava inside you and it feels fucking DIVINE.

“You’re such a good kitten,” He rubs you as you take his length.

His movements are calculated, every single one. No matter how fast they hit your spots like a master martial artist targeting pressure points. You aren’t getting a break from his assaults every strike is a critical blow. Even when he slows down his spongey head sweetly kisses those spots igniting obscene fires that don’t have time to burn out before being reignited fully.

You’re getting close, so painfully close to a volcanic eruption, your bubbling!

“Cum for me, darling” He leans down over your back, to whisper into your ear, his voice gravely and so low.

“AHH!!!” You scream out and your whole body goes rigid and convulses, his own cum shoots inside you and you take all of it.

“So good for me, you took me so well, darling…” His eyes practically have hearts in them.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Sweet Little Killer

Ghoulcy | Cooper x Lucy | post S1 | touchstarved | hurt\comfort | angst | sometimes he's an asshole | there was only one bed | overprotective and jealous Ghoul | eventual smut

Those big eyes, Cooper thought, his anger rising. Those big eyes of hers were glistening with tears, and twice as pretty for it. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on men with those soulful eyes of hers. If she did, she was damn well making those tears brim on her dark lashes on purpose, trying to wrap his withered heart around her pretty little finger.

As Ghoul and Lucy journey across the wastes to New Vegas both of them learn a helluva lot more about each other, and circumstances and mutual attraction drive them into each other's arms.

CHAPTER ONE

The ghoul walked quickly, his back straight, eyes fixed on the horizon, while the dog and the girl trailed along behind him. A million stars scattered the vast heavens above the trio, pinpricks of cold, sparkling light.

The revelations of the past few hours had left Lucy’s insides hollow from grief. Who her dad really was, leaving Max behind, and worst of all, realizing who was tied to the chair beside Moldovar. Over and over, she heard an echo of gunshot. Had she done the right thing, ending her mother’s life? Or had she done the selfish thing so she could be rid of her? Had she taken the easy way out, when the truly good and kind thing to do would have been to take her mother’s snapping, snarling corpse back into the vault and cared for her?

Rubbing her wind-chilled arms, Lucy wondered about the golden rule. Did the golden rule even apply to a miserable situation like this? But that was silly. Of course it did. It always applied. Didn’t it?

The wind blew dust into her face, and she had to stop to cough and blink it from her eyes.

Ahead, the ghoul paused at the crest of a low hill, and examined the landscape. This strange, dangerous man had asked her to come with him to New Vegas for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom. She was anxious to think about something that wasn’t her dead mother and her murderous father, and so she strode up beside him, moving dials on her Pip-Boy.

In as confident a voice as she could manage, she said, ‘Sorry, I’ve not been helping at all. I can find us a route if you give me a moment to—’

The ghoul spoke harshly. ‘I know the way.’

He set off again, his shredded duster billowing behind him, but not before Lucy caught his narrow-eyed, angry expression. Anger crackled through his frame as he stalked forward with single-minded purpose. Anger directed squarely at their destination.

Maybe anger was the correct emotion under the circumstances. Lucy dropped her arm back to her side and followed him. She tried to summon up some anger to keep herself focused—maybe even warm—but the cavern in her chest refused to fill up with anything. 

The three of them eventually made camp for the night in an old shack that might have once been part of a bigger dwelling. The floor was sand. The roof was broken open in places and starlight shone through.

Wordlessly, the ghoul dropped his saddle bags to the ground, lay down with his back propped against the sloping sand and his booted feet up on an old tin box, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. The dog stretched out alongside him.

Lucy gazed at the ghoul, and then sat down cross-legged a few feet away. She’d thought there would be words spoken between them tonight. That they would explain to each other his astounding request for her to come with him, and her monumental decision to say yes.

But the ghoul looked like a man whose only desire in the world was to go to sleep.

Maybe he was already asleep.

Lucy cleared her throat.

The ghoul plucked his Stetson from his head with gloved fingers and covered his face.

It was a pointed message, but she ignored it. Tentatively, she called to him, ‘I thought we could talk seeing as we’re traveling together.’

‘S’late,’ the ghoul muttered.

Lucy leapt on his reluctant reply and started talking quickly. ‘True, but there’s no time like the present, as we tell each other back home. I never thought I’d say this, but you and I have something in common.’

The ghoul pushed the brim of his hat up with his forefinger and turned to her. ‘And what might that be?’ he asked softly.

Lucy gave him a weak smile as a pang went through her heart. ‘My dad. It’s not much to have in common—actually, it’s a terrible thing to have in common—but maybe you and I can be…’

Lucy trailed off as the ghoul’s eyes narrowed. His attitude rarely changed from either antipathy or anger, but she realized that right now he was dangerously close to losing his temper as his jaw flexed to one side.

Strained silence fell in the little shack.

‘Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart,’ the ghoul said in a slow, deadly drawl. ‘I ain’t gonna be your friend. I ain’t your bodyguard or your protector, neither. You’re a liability and a goddamn pain in my ass.’

Wow. That was what she was afraid he’d think of her, but he went and said it out loud. A shameful, painful lump formed in Lucy’s throat and her voice was husky as she spoke around it. ‘If I’m so useless, then…why did you ask me to come with you?’

Those big eyes, Cooper thought, his anger rising. Those big eyes of hers were glistening with tears, and twice as pretty for it. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on men with those soulful eyes of hers. If she did, she was damn well making those tears brim on her dark lashes on purpose, trying to wrap his withered heart around her pretty little finger.

‘You vault dwellers are supposed to be the smart ones. I’m sure you can figure out why I brought you along.’

Her eyes searched his face, and then her features transformed in horror. ‘You said you let my dad go so you could follow him, but you still need me to get close to him and the rest of Vault-Tec. Is that it? You’re using me as bait. Again .’

Cooper gave a nasty laugh. ‘Oh, no, sweetheart. You’re not bait. You’ve been upgraded to leverage.’ As that revelation washed over her and ceased to bring her any comfort, as he’d intended, Cooper closed his eyes, put his hat back over his face, and settled back onto the sand to sleep. ‘There’s no reason for us to say one word to each other for however long it takes us to cross the wastes to New Vegas,’ he told her. ‘Once we get there, we’ll do what needs to be done, and then we’ll go our separate ways.’

He was ready for sleep, but sleep refused to come. The girl was cold, or she was miserable. Probably both. Cooper grit his teeth against the pathetic, shivery sounds she was making and glared at the inside of his hat. One more minute and she’d fall asleep.

One more minute.

Several minutes passed and the girl didn’t stop crying. The more she tried to smother it, the harder she choked and whimpered. Sure, she had a lot to cry about, what with putting a bullet in her mom’s flailing corpse and discovering her daddy’s a murderous asshole, but they had a plan. There was no need to get all weepy now they had a plan. 

Not having a plan, that was something to bawl about.

Lucy’s breathing hitched in a sob.

Cooper seized his hat and yanked it off his face. God fucking damn it. He opened his mouth to snap at the girl to shut the hell up, but Dogmeat’s liquid eyes reproached him in the moonlight.

Cooper closed his mouth. No way. He wasn’t going to comfort her. There would be no comforting on this little trip of theirs. No one needed to unburden their heart or ask why did this happen to poor little me. Answers were what they were going to get. Important fucking answers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucy wiping away tears. A long-forgotten impulse flashed through his heart, one that belonged to the man he once was. The husband and the lover. The protector. A man who took joy in holding someone’s tender heart in both his big hands. Who would soothe and kiss away tears, pressing his lips to a cheek or a forehead or a throat.

Cooper pictured himself getting up stroking Lucy’s hair back from her hot, tear-streaked cheeks as she gazed up at him in the moonlight. I’ve got you, darlin’. I’m here.

I could…

He nearly sat up before he remembered the man who was so good at murmuring soft words was long dead. No one wanted or needed his scarred hands or lips anywhere near their tears or soft, smooth skin. In this ruined world, Cooper looked like death and that’s what he delivered. Death. Dear little Lucy’s daddy would soon be dead by Cooper’s hand, and then more of her pretty tears would pour down her cheeks. Even though she probably wanted her daddy dead, she’d still hate Cooper for being the one to put the bullet in him.  

Dogmeat gazed sadly at him, and glanced at Lucy and back at him again.

Silently, Cooper pointed at the girl and gave a quick jerk of his head. Dogmeat obediently got up, trotted over to Lucy, and lay down beside her. There was a wet, sad little gasp from the girl, and then she wrapped her arms around Dogmeat and buried her face in the dog’s fur. With a warm body to hold, Lucy’s crying ceased. A moment later, she lay down with the animal. 

The tension in Cooper’s chest and shoulders finally relaxed. When the girl’s breathing evened out a few minutes later, he settled his hat back over his face, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

***

Lucy’s eyes felt puffy from crying when she sat up the next morning. The ghoul was already up and repacking his bag. She heard the tinkle of glass, so maybe he’d just inhaled some of his medication.

Maybe that had put him in a better mood.

The dog’s warm, furry body had brought her comfort in the night, and maybe, just maybe, they were both feeling better. There was no way she was going on this journey in complete silence. If she was hurting, he was hurting too. A person didn’t get so angry and closed off for no reason.

As she got to her feet, Lucy said, ‘Mr. Ghoul, um, sir. I can’t call you Mr. Ghoul. What’s your name? I’m Lucy, by the way,’ she added hastily.

Cooper didn’t look up from his bags. He knew her name. He’d heard her father and that can of cram—the Knight—call her by the pretty, girlie name of Lucy. But he didn’t want or need to know her name. Vaultie was just fine, or if he was particularly annoyed with her, sweetheart was even better. A cold, sarcastic reminder that she was anything but sweet to him. Darlin’—now that was something he was saving for when she really got on his nerves.

‘What if I told you I don’t remember?’ he muttered. It wasn’t a lie if he framed it as a question.

He glanced up to see Lucy’s mouth fall open slightly, and the saddest look he ever saw fill her big eyes. Sadder even than last night when she was crying for herself.

She was pitying him? Oh, this was too fucking much. No amount of leverage in the world was worth seeing a girl pity him.

‘You really don’t remember? I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Cooper wished to fuck that he didn’t remember, but two hundred years later, his irradiated brain remembered every goddamn moment of betrayal, grief, and loss.

 ‘Well, doesn’t it just hurt to be me,’ he sneered. ‘Move it, vaultie. Let’s get going before the radscorpions do.’

Lucy dusted her ass off and started following him, but then stopped dead. ‘The…what?’

With his back to the girl, the ghoul grinned at the bright sunny morning. Something about her trepidation filled him with happiness. He was going to torment her all day, and he couldn’t wait.

He strode jauntily out of the shack, whistling as he went, the dog trotting happily at his heels.

-

Thank you for reading! Chapter Two is here.

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[hauntedadagium]

Caged || Pt 7

Ardyn x Reader || Previous chapters: Caged (1) || (2) || (3) || (4) || (5) || (6). CW: suggestive themes, stockholm syndrome. Words: 4.7k

You wished you’d dreamt of anything else that night, but you didn’t. You dreamt of him. Even in sleep, he was inescapable.  But everything that happened before; could you truly have hallucinated so severely? ...A prolonged nightmare?

You remembered Ardyn’s hand between your legs, the brush of his stubble against your cheek, his warm lips upon yours.

Your eyes opened slowly to the same room you’d woken up in for the last… how long had it been, exactly? Shifting uncomfortably, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. It was easier to give into the fog in your mind; remaining lost in it provided a comfort taken from you by reality. It was obvious Ardyn grew impatient with your lack of cooperation, but he had all the time he saw fit to pry what he needed from you. Surviving was all you could do.

Despite being deprived of the most basic sensations, something lingered with you. You thought of it as if recalling a fond memory, stirring something within your gut.

Footsteps echoed outside, and then came a gentle knock at the door. You didn’t answer, simply continuing to ruminate the conflicting feelings.

The door opened slowly regardless, and Ardyn took a step inside, shutting it quietly behind him. You lifted your head and suddenly, your heart started beating. It pounded in your chest as he took his time approaching you, but this time, for different reasons. It didn’t pound from threat or fear or apprehension—

“Good morning, my dear.”

There it was. The subtle quirk of his lips. His confident stance. You had to look away.

“Is something wrong?” You could see him tip his head out of the corner of your eye.

“You broke your promise,” you said quietly, looking down. “You… you said you wouldn’t… touch me.” This was the only leverage you had. But it was nothing, less than nothing, even. But you clung to his promise for some semblance of power. You hadn’t an ounce of it in this place.

“What ever do you mean?” Again, that mock innocence presented itself. His games had begun.

You stood abruptly up and looked at him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You were tired, Gods, you were so tired. It was a given that he wouldn’t take you seriously, but what else could you do? Stalling him with what little you could was only buying you additional time until he inevitably disposed of you. 

It was clear now that Noctis wasn’t coming to save you.

Nobody was.

“It wasn’t a dream.” You shook your head, unconvinced of your own words. “You tricked me.” You frowned, edging closer to him. “You—you wore his face.” Another step. “You dangled my freedom in front of my face.” You were face to face now, his satisfied grin glaring down at you. “Why? Why are you keeping me here?” Your hands balled into fists. “I’m not telling you shit!” You shoved him with all your might, causing him to stagger back onto one foot. “Why don’t you just be done with me already!”

Steadying himself, he only grinned harder.

“Fuck you!” You screamed and shoved him again. “I hate you!” Your weak fists pounded on his chest, eliciting no reaction. “You—you said you wouldn’t touch me. You… you tricked me, you… kissed me.” You stopped hammering on his chest, letting your hands slump to your sides. “And I…” 

That damn memory. It breached the fog in your head and settled itself front and centre. Your heart started pounding again.

“And…?” He finally said, his low, dulcet tone above you.

“And?” You scowled, looking up at him. You knew it wasn’t just a dream.

Ardyn huffed, like he wanted to laugh. “I suppose I’ve taken quite a liking to you.”

You were speechless. You were not some puppet to be played with. You were an intimate colleague of the enemy. You should have been nothing but a pawn to him.

“Enough,” you said, taking a step back, but he soon closed the gap between you. “I won’t play your games anymore. I—”

His eyes bore into you. “Careful.” He said more seriously, words tainted with threat.

“I don’t care.” He continued to approach you. “If it wasn’t enough that I wouldn’t talk before, then I’ll continue to show you. You—you’ll kill me before I’ll talk.” Soon, you were backed against the wall.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said deeply, bearing his teeth as he shoved his face in front of yours. 

You were steadfast in your courage, refusing to turn your head away. “You’ve taken everything from me.” 

All you needed was an opportunity, and he knew that was dangerous. It tipped the scales in your direction where they’d been such in his favour before. An unattended weapon. An unlocked door. No matter the risk. No matter how long it took. What else did you have to lose?

“Not…everything,” he said, face softening as he glanced at your lips then back into your eyes. The ghost of his touch prickled heat up your neck. “But perhaps you’re right.” Tilting back slightly, he instead leaned over you with one hand steadying him on the wall beside your head. “If I’ve taken everything from you… we’ll see what else you’re willing to give to me.”

Your throat went dry. Were you mistaken? He couldn’t possibly mean—

Without warning his free hand flicked his dagger out of its holster and lifted it to your neck. You knew then that he was about to take the last thing he could from you.

Not your life. Not yet, no.

Your promise.

“Now that you’re of little use to me, what’s say we…retract our little promise, and I’ll let you live for a while longer, hm?”

“That’s—you can’t threaten me to give you permission, you might as well take it yourself.” You trembled as the sharp blade kissed the delicate flesh of your throat.

“Give it to me,” he demanded, an animalistic growl behind it.

You swallowed and shut your eyes tight. “No.”

You heard a frustrated hiss escape him. “Give it to me,” he repeated close to your ear. The sharp edge of his dagger tilted up against your skin. You tried not to breathe lest it pierce you.

“I—I won’t.” Your voice quivered, preparing for the cold flash against your neck, and then darkness. For the nightmare to reach its inevitable conclusion.

But it never came. 

“You continue to surprise me.” Ardyn withdrew, sheathing his weapon. You opened your eyes, watching him turn nonchalantly. “Why don’t we come to an agreement instead?”

This certified one thing at least; that he was desperate to touch you. Desperate to regain some of the power he’d lost by making this promise in the first place. But why? So he could torture you? So he could push you around? So he could…?

“Tell me something you want, and I’ll consider it.” He folded his arms and took a step back.

“Freedom,” you answered quickly, almost surprised you’d even spoken aloud.

He laughed. An arrogant sound. “Something besides that.”

You thought hard. What was akin to breaking the promise? You needn’t ask for food or hot water, these were necessities that, thank the Gods, he’d provided you already. But what else?

“I—I want to go outside.” You turned your attention away from him. Even the request felt infantilizing.

There was a long silence.

“Fine,” he replied plainly after some time, extending his hand for a handshake.

This was it. Tantamount to signing your body away. You hesitated, watching his golden eyes stalk you. It was the opposite now—it felt like you were giving him permission to do what he wanted with you.

Still, your mind lingered on the kiss. Whether it was real or not, it wouldn’t leave your mind.

Reaching for his hand, you took it. You felt his gloved palm against yours, coupled with the gentle squeeze of his fingers. You both lingered there before letting go.

“Get dressed,” he said, before turning to leave. You watched as he headed for the door, securing it behind him.

A deep feeling of dread washed over you.

What have I done?

* * *

Time passed, and you still hadn’t summoned the energy to dress yourself. A choking feeling twisted at your throat and at times, you could still feel Ardyn’s dagger against your skin. It was difficult to shake yourself free of his vice grip even without his presence. You suspected this was all part of his game, but to what end? He’d initially kidnapped you for information but to no avail—so what use was keeping you around? The Crown did not negotiate. The likelihood of a barter for your safety was nil, so even that leverage was defunct.

The guards had left not only the clothes you were taken in, a now filthy pair of pants and a shirt, but something fresh to wear every other day. They would occasionally launder the clothes Ardyn chose for you; a scant night dress, pants, shirts, tank tops. Everything was fairly plain and simple. Usually they would leave everything in a closet and thankfully now, you were left alone to bathe and dress.

Treading carefully over to the wardrobe, you pulled the handle to look inside, expecting to see a dull array to clothe yourself with. But instead—

“What’s this?” You whispered aloud, tugging the only hanging garment in the closet down. Besides that, the whole thing was empty.

It was a sundress. A soft, mid-length white dress decorated with subtle blue flowers. You thumbed over the delicate stitching. 

Sylleblossoms.

Your favourite flower.

It was beautiful, but it made you wince. You could feel your brow pulling into a taught grimace as you clutched the thing in both hands, thinking of wearing it in front of Ardyn. At his behest, no doubt. But it was either that or go outside in your nightdress; logically the former was the least humiliating, so quietly you took yourself to bathe and slip on the dress before someone inevitably arrived to collect you.

It made you nauseous as you observed your reflection, smoothing down the fabric with your palms. He'd taken his time selecting this, he'd thought about you wearing this—everything about it was as sickening as it was nerve-wracking. 

You had just finished combing your hair when a guard barged in, sending a jolt down your spine. You turned, heart hammering, suddenly feeling very exposed as the man looked you up and down in silence.

“This way,” he commanded, holding the door open for you. Padding over with bare feet, you halted in the doorway to take one last steadying breath.

Shoes were something you weren't afforded in captivity. Likely to hamper any attempt at escape, or to make you feel as if the place was home.

Once again you entered that corridor, memories of being dragged kicking and screaming into the interrogation room causing you to sweat. When you passed it, you breathed out, instead being led into a room just beyond. 

Inside, Ardyn was waiting.

The door slammed and you jumped again, Ardyn turning to face you now that you were alone. You couldn’t help but tilt your head and look away whilst he studied you for a considerable while. Your cheeks burned as the silence stretched, picking the skin at your fingernails to occupy yourself.

As he did, you noticed this room had windows; long, bright, floor to ceiling windows; sunlight streaming through. It felt like a lifetime had passed since you saw daylight. Real daylight. 

The bright blue sky was littered with fluffy clouds as far as you could see, surmising you must be on the highest floor of some kind of building. You hadn’t expected him to comply with your deal quite so soon, and it took you seeing the sky to realise how desperate you were for it.

“There is one more thing before we go,” he said quietly, approaching you. Your heart agonisingly fluttered. “You understand this is a…sensitive situation. It would be foolish of me to reveal our location.”

In an instant, he was behind you, hands placed gently on your shoulders. You shuddered, realising the promise was well and truly behind you now. The cool leather of his fingerless gloves caressed you for a moment before they were gone, hearing him retrieve something from his coat pocket.

It was odd—he was dressed head to toe, as usual, to go outside on what looked like a relatively warm day. 

You yelped quietly as darkness shrouded you, Ardyn placing a soft blindfold over your eyes.

“Wait—” your hands flew up to touch it, but he softly guided them down by your sides. “You can’t— this wasn’t—”

“I agreed I would take you outside,” he started, deep voice washing over you, “the circumstances, however, you left to my desire.”

The dress. The blindfold. You should have known better than to be vague with him.

And oh, how desirable this is. You could have sworn you heard his voice in your head, something so subtle, nothing above a whisper.

You don’t realise how much you need every sense in its entirety until you lose one, sight perhaps being the most impactful of all. You were getting exactly what you’d asked for, but it would be completely under his control—he was left to guide you, direct you, and test you by tempting you to remove it.

You took in an unsettled breath as he ushered you with a hand on the small of your back to walk forward, hoping he wouldn’t trick you into injuring yourself. 

Slowly he guided you, hearing the quiet click of his boots against the wooden floor and feeling his large hand at your lower back. You walked until you heard his boots hit what sounded like metal, an odd sound. Removing his hand, you felt instantly lost—the space around you was unimaginable—cramped or large, occupied or empty, your mind went into a frenzy before you felt him brush up against you to stand side by side.

The space around you shuddered and suddenly, you felt movement.

“What’s happening—” your panicked words were followed by a hand reaching out to touch him, gripping the side of his coat for support.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “You’re safe.”

Safe. You could have laughed. You were anything but safe with him, a man who had kidnapped you, interrogated you, berated and belittled you. But in that moment, completely blind, he was your only source of safety.

With the loud hum of a machine, you deduced you were in some sort of elevator—an odd contraption for a building you assumed was extremely old, but by the feeling in your stomach, instead of going down, you were going up.

“W—where are we going?” You clung to him tightly as the elevator came to an abrupt halt.

“Where I promised,” he said, peeling your hands away from him as he returned to guiding you gently from behind. 

You took cautious steps, certain he would be irritated at your slowness, but terrified you would become dizzy and stumble. If you were on a high floor, you could stumble to the edge—what if you fell?—what if he pushed you? Suddenly it felt as if you were confined to a cage, sightless, senseless, about to cry before—A sound, something mechanical, like a door sliding open, and then—

A breeze. A warm, gentle breeze. Sunlight on your cheeks. The gentle rustle of leaves. The smell of fresh flowers.

Tears would have rolled down your cheeks if not for Ardyn’s blindfold. You thought this is what the afterlife must feel like. Peaceful. Beautiful. Free.

After walking for a little while, he stopped you, turning you presumably to face him.

“Please,” you asked, “let me see it.”

A moment later, Ardyn’s arm brushed past your ear, untying the blindfold, slipping it back into his pocket. You took a second before peeling your eyes open, letting your vision flood with light and colours. 

At your feet, tiny white stones and dirt; bright green foliage topped with vivid blue petals; a path through a field of ten thousand flowers. Above, the sky was blue and the sun shone on your cheeks, now wet with tears. 

It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. For miles it seemed the flower field stretched in every direction, never ending, it wasn’t even clear where you’d come from.

You twirled around, away from him, soaking in the delicate scent of Syllblossoms.

“It’s…” You could hardly speak. Everything that has been, everything that was slowly melted away. “It’s—”

“Beautiful.” Ardyn finished your sentence, and you turned around to face him. 

But he wasn’t looking at the flower field.

He was looking at you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you almost whispered, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Ardyn simply nodded, lifting a finger to your chin. He poised the digit just right to angle your face up to him, and just stared at you. For a long time you watched as the breeze blew his hair gently in front of his face.

After some time, his hand moved to cup your cheek in his palm. There was pain in his eyes, something you couldn’t place; it wasn’t sadness or regret. It was the first time his hard exterior had fallen in front of you—there was something genuine about it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without explanation.

It was as if the words weren’t meant for you. Like his eyes were as entranced with what he saw as you were with the field of flowers.

Your heart was beating again, but you weren’t afraid. His touch was soft, so soft.

“Ardyn,” you addressed him by name, probably for the first time since you’d arrived. He seemed to visibly flinch, as if broken from some reverie.

He quirked an eyebrow and swiftly his hand withdrew, cold exterior returning. You regretted breaking him from whatever dream he was trapped in.

“Where are we?” You hesitated to ask, but nothing made sense. This couldn’t be on top of a building, it was a field in the middle of nowhere. “I don’t understand.”

“Does it matter?” He sounded defeated. Tired. “You seem to quite like it.”

“I do,” you said, too enthusiastically. It was like you’d forgotten where you really were. “Can I stay, just…for a while? …Please.”

Ardyn just nodded.

You beamed. The first genuine smile you’d felt in eons. Pure happiness. 

You started running, feet crunching in the bare dirt as soft foliage sped past your ankles and the smell of gorgeous florals flooded you. Alive. You felt alive again. 

Your mouth fell open in a laugh, giggling as you ran and skipped and twirled in the field, the giant sun above arcing over you as you went. The further you went, the more odd it should have seemed; nothing changed, not the field nor the sky nor the ground.

But you didn’t care. You just wanted the wind in your hair, the sun on your face, and the dirt under your feet. The exhaustion dissipated, the ache in your legs subsided, each breath felt as if it were a stream of life pumping directly into your veins. The sweet pull of freedom whispered to you, a dream of something so far away.

“That’s far enough,” Ardyn said directly from behind you, pulling you to a halt by the wrist.

You faltered, spinning to face him, out of breath but still smiling. It hadn’t even occurred to you how he had appeared immediately at your back.

“Please, a little more—” Your words were jerked from you as he yanked you toward him, colliding with his chest, hand pinned between you both. His honeyed eyes stared down at you, that same, soft expression on his face. “Ardyn…”

“Yes…” He said oh so quietly, never taking his eyes off you, nor his hand from your wrist.

“What are you—”

With his free hand, he moved to caress the side of your neck. His touch was warm, gentle, like the flow of a shallow river. The sun spilled across your features but couldn’t reach his, protected by the shade of his hat. “Beautiful,” he repeated.

You were speechless, certain this time that he was talking to you. Your high remained, heart fluttering again. It was only now you really saw him; his deep golden eyes, the slant of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He was fiendishly handsome, and somewhere deep down, you hated yourself for even thinking it. But you had to ride this high as far as it would go, your body burned for it, needed it.

When he leaned toward you, you didn’t pull away. You knew he was going to kiss you and you did nothing to stop him.

His lips settled upon yours in a soft kiss, one that stilled your heart and stole your breath.  You found yourself reaching up to touch his neck, thumbing over his pulse. His heart was beating fast.

Your tender flesh basked in the sunlight as a hand at your back pulled you closer, and with another breath he tilted his head, opening his mouth to slip his tongue onto yours. You moaned quietly into it, letting him take over, feeling his heart beat more quickly all the while. One hand snaked down the curve of your spine and to your behind, sweeping forward past your hips again to settle at your inner thigh.

It was a moment of pure bliss, until—

Something heavy crashed to the pit of your stomach, like waking from a nightmare. It knocked the air from your chest and you pulled away instantly, breaking free of his grip and planting your back foot into the dirt.

“No…” You whispered. “I—” There were too many conflicting feelings, too much pressure built inside you, too confused to think and simultaneously too exhausted to understand. “Stop…”

Your weakened pleas must have been an enticing sound as he once again forced proximity between you. “Don’t you want this?” He mused, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Everything you see here…can be yours.”

Your neck crooned toward his touch. He was manipulating you, and it was working.

“My—my freedom, I—” You hesitantly tore yourself away. “This…this isn’t real.”

“I can give you so much more,” he continued, something dark in his tone. “If you let me.”

“No…” You repeated. He’s your enemy; your mind was screaming at you, but your heart was dissonant. If you refused to comply, history would repeat itself.

“Don’t lock me back in that room, please—please I’m begging you.” You pulled on the lapels of his coat. “I want to stay here, I want to—”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” his sultry tone crept into your head and poisoned your thoughts. He was so difficult to refuse. “We could work together, you and I.”

“Stop it,” you pleaded again, “I—I can’t.” A wave of nausea overcame you. But not over the events of him kissing you, no. More toward the fact that you had enjoyed it. A sliver of comfort, of passion, a moment of weakness—the exhilaration had left you hopelessly complacent.

When you attempted to pull away, he pinned your bodies together. 

“There's no escaping this,” he whispered, “why not just...succumb to it.”

For the first time since your capture, you wanted to. Your old life had become a distant memory. “Please…” you whispered, pinned against him. “Just…please, let me come back here.”

Ardyn ran a hand through your hair, sweeping it back in a loving motion that left you feeling weak. “If you insist.” His fingers pressed on the back of your head to tilt in down, feeling him plant a soft kiss atop your head.

His actions towards you were that of a man in love. You knew it wasn’t real. Your heart knew he  was acting; playing his part until eventually you felt comfort in his presence instead of fear. Your defiance had not earned you freedom, not in life nor death. It had simply earned you a place in a different game entirely.

One that was arguably more difficult to resist.

Your time was up; Ardyn withdrew the blindfold once again and you were plunged into darkness, eventually feeling the warmth of the sun vanish from your skin. You noticed it again, the same strange sound of a mechanical door opening before you travelled down the elevator together, this time, his hand interlocked with yours. It was not long before you found yourself with your vision restored, locked with him inside that room of yours.

“I trust you liked my…gift,” he said, releasing you and tucking the blindfold back in his pocket.

You had almost forgotten you were wearing the dress. “Oh.” You looked down past the dress at your muddy feet. “I—It’s…lovely.” A thought crossed your mind to bathe, and as if he could read your thoughts, he approached the bathroom.

“I’ll draw you a bath.”

Before you could even protest, he disappeared behind the door, hearing the water gushing into the tub. Without him beside you, reality crashed into you like a freight train, too galling to ignore. It reminded you of your previous escape attempt with the guard, beginning to wonder if you might be able to attempt the same.

With Ardyn distracted, you padded quietly over to your bedroom door and tried the handle. Of course, it was locked. The gold plate brandishing the handle and keyhole was scratched where you had attempted to pry the lock previously. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Defeated, you sank against the doorframe, slumping onto the floor.

It really is pointless, isn’t it?

The water was still running, giving you time to think, but your mind was anything but clear. Anything but rational. Clarity was so often something crooked or misshapen here, but one thing remained; you were still bathed in the love and warmth of your time outside, looking forward to sinking into the hot water of a bathtub. It reminded you of home.

When the water stopped, you pushed yourself to your tired feet, hesitantly entering the bathroom. Inside, Ardyn had removed his hat, coat and waistcoat, leaving them neatly hung up on the wall. It was strange to see him dressed down like this, only in his shirt and pants, red scarf draped lazily over his shoulders.

His sleeves were rolled up and one arm dripped water onto the marble floor, suggesting he’d tested the temperature for you already.

You swallowed, approaching the tub. Lavender scented steam rose in wispy tendrils toward you; the water looked inviting. 

There was a deadlock when you looked up at him. You had expected him to leave shortly after, but instead, he remained. Like he was waiting for something. You suddenly blushed profusely, yet not a word was spoken between you. 

D-does he expect me to…undress? In front of him?

“I—I…uhm,” you stuttered, prolonged stalemate making you heated. “Do you…are you going to stay?”

Ardyn folded his arms. “Would you like me to stay?”

The question caught you off guard. Taking in a shuddered breath, you stood beside the water. “I think I should…be alone.”

He bowed his head. “As you wish.” Retrieving his belongings, he stopped in front of you before he left. His thick lashes blinked slowly as he towered over you, observing you from head to toe in silence one final time.

“You may not see me for some time,” he addressed you by name and your heart skipped a beat. “I’ll return when I can.”

Before you could process his words he turned to leave and you reached for him, tugging at his shirt.

“Wait—” your eyes searched his expressionless face. “What do you mean?” You didn’t want to be locked alone in that room for days on end, not again. “You said you would let me walk outside again—”

“When I can,” he interrupted, apathetic tone causing your heart to sink. “My guards will take care of you.” He pulled away, heading for the door.

“I don’t want your guards,” you blurted out, “I want—”

You. Your thoughts betrayed you. Though you hadn’t spoken aloud, what you meant was clear. Just hours ago you had screamed at him, confessed your utter hatred toward him, and now?

A subtle movement curled Ardyn’s lips into a wry smile. 

Without so much as another word, he left, exiting the bathroom and locking your bedroom door.

You collapsed to your knees beside the tub, arms hanging inside the warm water. There you were again, left alone, nothing but your frantic thoughts for company.

[thefleshyougoveggie]

we as a society need to talk more about platonic love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND HOW WONDERFUL IT IS!!!!!!

[lilgynt]

my mom found the thing that started the fight that got me kicked out. so i was right. in my fantasies this happens and it’s great in real life im gonna jump her

[shaykai]

You know I thought I was strong enough to let the tieflings die, but I don’t think I am actually

time to reload a save that’s like 5 hours back

[joestarfucker420]

going from being ashton all week to being my legal name again is honestly one of the worst feelings in the world

[foxgloveinspace]

oh my god you gave permission to send vids and i lasted all of 30 minutes before needing to send something 😂

BUT!!!

iv crying 🥺🥺🥺 the love for iii these last few shows has melted my heart and clearly the bands too

https://x.com/vesseltoken/status/1734391886901616999?s=46

i cannot suffer alone with this one i’m so sorry

Well, as I watch this and suffer. here, sleep token official instagrams account second to last pic…. Our boy AdamRosssi knows what we want, haha.

🥺🥺🥺

Oh no……

[irabu]

Guilty Gear plans cancelled I’m going to watch Card Captor Sakura on my new TV after I do some workout since my silly ass took a decade to realize they’re the same characters as Tsubasa Chronicle and now I need to rewatch both as a grown man in my mid 20s to understand the plot properly.

[exopelagic]

okay I got some thoughts just putting these here

[rockandromancee]

hm-hmm-hm

[surftrips]

SWEET NOTHING

pairing: luke castellan x reader

summary: y/n comforts luke after he sees percy claimed by poseidon.

word count: 600+

a/n: y'all i know. how many more morally grey characters can i write fics for? i couldn't help it, he's so bf in the first two episodes so this takes place in a world where he’s done nothing wrong <3

You watched as your boyfriend’s face changed after seeing the newest camp member, Percy Jackson, claimed by his father, Poseidon. 

Luke wasn’t one of the unclaimed kids, but he might as well have been. His relationship with his father Hermes was a strained one, but he pretended like it didn’t bother him. 

But now, it was hard not to notice the sadness and frustration that had clouded Luke’s face as he watched the trident appear above Percy’s head. Before you could go over to comfort him, he had already run away from the scene. 

You decided to give him some space, figuring that he had gone back to his cabin. As the other camp members slowly dispersed, you looked around for Annabeth. 

Upon laying your eyes on the dark-haired girl in the crowd of people, you beckoned her over. 

“Hey! Did you see that?” she asked you, excitedly.

“Yeah, that was crazy!” you admitted. “How’d you know he was Poseidon’s?”

“I’ve been watching him.”

“Of course,” you smiled. Luke had told you about Annabeth's desire to find “The Chosen One.” 

“Wait- where’s Luke?” she asked, as if on cue.

“I was gonna talk to you about that- I think he ran back to his cabin.”

“What- why?”

“I think he had some feelings about Percy being claimed, if you know what I mean.” 

“Oh,” Annabeth replied, putting the pieces together. 

“Yeah, I’m giving him some space right now, but do you have any advice on how to approach this? I don’t want to upset him any more.”

“Look, Y/N, you’re his girlfriend. Just do your best to comfort him and I’m sure he’ll start to feel better.”

“I know, but you’re his sister! You know him best, what if I say the wrong thing?” 

“You can’t say the wrong thing. He loves you, Y/N. He just needs to see that someone is there for him.” 

“Okay, thank you, Annabeth,” you gave her a hug before heading in the direction of the Hermes cabin. 

You were relieved to find that the other campers had not gotten back yet. You gently pushed open the door and found yourself facing your boyfriend’s back sitting on his bed. 

“Luke?” you called out.

He turned to face you, hastily swiping at the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks. 

“Oh, sweet boy, come here,” you ran over to take him in your arms. He let his tears fall again, and your heart broke seeing him like this. You knew that he acted brave all the time, but deep down, he was hurting.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just let it out,” you attempted to calm him down. 

“Why doesn’t he care about me?” he cried.

“Baby, it’s okay. He doesn’t matter, alright? It has nothing to do with you.” 

“Yes, it does. Percy killed a minotaur and broke Clarisse’s spear and his dad just came swooping in.” 

“Look at me,” you pulled away to lift his face up. “You are so, so special. Anyone that knows you can say that. Hell, you’re the best swordsman in this camp. But you know what else? You’re kind, and caring, and you have all this compassion in your heart, despite it all. If he can’t see your worth in that, then that’s a reflection of him, not you.” 

Luke didn’t say anything, instead he worked on catching his breath as you continued to rub his back and lay kisses on his forehead. 

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, still sniffling. 

“For what, baby?” 

“For seeing me. And staying.”

“To know you is to love you, Luke Castellan,” you gave him another kiss, this time on his lips.

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[pawnshopbleus]

On Top

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0

Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.

Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus. 

Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years. 

“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.” 

Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose. 

You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.

“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?” 

“I cheated,” he sighed. 

Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.

Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.” 

Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”

Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus. 

“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions. 

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with. 

He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.  

He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last. 

Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.

You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss. 

His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.) 

You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.” 

Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner. 

Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt. 

You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?” 

You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”

With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear. 

Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear. 

The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.

“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel. 

Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something. 

Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it. 

Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you. 

Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more. 

His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. 

He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.

Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion

Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out. 

Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock. 

Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling. 

His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure. 

“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.  

You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly. 

Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.

His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more. 

Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite. 

Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship. 

“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.” 

Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.” 

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo. 

“My dad can-” 

“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”

“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”

“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?” 

This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow. 

“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan. 

You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth. 

And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night. 

Turns out Snow does land on top.

---------------------

Time to study up on straight people sex!

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.