#i've wanted to post about this since it aired i'm just getting it out of my system

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention). Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever. Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.

The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"

"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."

"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."

"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.

"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"

"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."

"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."

"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.

Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.

“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.

"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.

"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"

“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”

"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.

Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.

Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.

“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”

“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.

Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.

“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.

“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.

His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”

“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.

“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”

“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.

“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.

Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”

“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”

“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”

“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.

He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”

“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.

"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."

“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”

"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.

There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.

Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”

It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.

It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.

“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”

“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.

“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.

When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”

“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.

He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”

From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”

“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.

There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.

“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”

“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”

“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”

“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”

“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.

“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.

You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.

“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.

It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.

“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.

“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”

“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”

“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”

“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”

“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.

“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”

“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”

“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”

“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”

“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”

“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.

“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”

“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”

His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”

“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”

“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.

“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.

“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”

“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”

Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.

“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.

“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”

He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”

“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.

Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.

It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.

The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.

"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."

He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.

"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."

“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.

"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."

“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”

"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."

“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."

“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”

"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."

“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”

It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."

He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”

"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"

Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.

Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.

Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.

The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."

“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.

It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.

“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”

You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.

It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.

It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.

It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.

There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.

He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.

"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.

He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.

That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.

Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.

"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."

Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”

"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."

Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.

"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.

Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.

Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.

"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.

"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."

“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”

"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."

“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”

"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."

“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”

"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."

“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.

"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."

His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.

"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."

“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”

"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."

Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.

Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.

The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.

The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.

The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”

“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.

“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.

"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."

She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.

It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.

“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”

“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.

“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”

“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.

“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”

“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”

“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”

“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”

“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.

“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”

“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.

“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.

“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”

“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”

“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”

“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”

“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”

A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.

“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.

“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.

“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”

“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.

“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”

As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”

"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."

“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”

"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."

“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.

"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"

“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.

"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.

“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”

“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”

“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”

“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.

“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.

“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”

“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.

“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”

“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”

“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”

She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”

Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”

“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”

“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”

“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”

“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.

“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…

“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”

“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…

The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”

“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”

“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”

“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”

“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.

“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”

“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.

"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."

She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”

"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."

“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”

The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.

Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.

"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.

Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”

"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"

“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?

"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."

“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.” He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”

"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"

“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”

"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."

He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”

"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"

“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.

“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”

“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.

“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”

“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”

"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."

“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"

“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”

"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."

“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”

"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."

“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.

"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”

"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."

“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.

"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"

“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”

"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."

“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.

"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”

"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."

“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.

Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”

“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”

“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.

“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.

“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”

“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”

“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”

“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.

“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”

“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”

“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.

First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.

With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.

So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.

Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”

“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”

He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”

You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.

“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.

“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”

“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”

“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.

He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”

“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.

“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.

“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.

It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.

“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.

“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”

“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”

“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.

“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.

“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”

“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.

“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.

“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”

“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.

“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.

You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”

Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”

"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.

“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”

"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."

"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"

"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."

"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"

"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."

"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"

"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."

"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."

"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."

He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.

"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.

“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.

Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.

Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.

The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.

“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”

“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.

“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”

Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”

“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.

“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”

Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.

Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”

“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.

Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.

“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.

Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”

"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."

The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.

"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”

"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."

“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.

Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”

"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."

“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.

"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.

“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”

“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”

“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”

“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”

"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."

“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”

The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.

A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”

Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

[rosietrace]

This is a personal rant about my thoughts on Greek mythology retellings, and just the way Fantasy books and the publishing industry is at this point 🧍‍♀️

I have nothing against Greek mythology retellings, or just anything Greek mythology related in fantasy in general!

However, I have certain gripes about the way Greek mythology is portrayed in media, specifically in the way its interpreted in Fantasy.

[ More under the cut! ]

I love Percy Jackson, and I think that Uncle Rick did a wonderful job at expanding the world and making Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology entertaining and easily digestible for young audiences. Genuinely, he does a better job at writing children's books than R*wling could ever be capable of.

However, as much as I can love PJO as much as I do, I still find certain bits of the world building and character writing as... Very hit and miss.

To start, I don't like the way Ares was written in the series. I can understand that it would make sense for his personality to be that way, because he's the God of War and it helps with Clarisse's character development; but I find fault in it because Ares in the myths is nothing like PJO Ares. (He literally killed one of Poseidon's sons because he raped his daughter, Alcippe, and he's one of the only gods who doesn't hump anything that can breathe in air. At least Ares has the courtesy of asking for consent 💀)

The Gods being the reason behind WWII and Hitler being a child of Hades. All I must say.

The portrayal of the Aphrodite cabin

The fact that Athena can have children. Annabeth, pjo fandom at large, I love you are, but you gotta admit it must've felt weird when you first read the books and you find out Athena — the maiden Goddess of Wisdom — can have offspring. Regardless of the reasoning, I still find it weird 😭 (EDIT: I've now just remembered that it was a reference to how Athena herself was created 🤡 I'm a clown)

I get that the Hermes cabin is also the cabin for the unclaimed, but couldn't have Hestia's cabin worked too? She doesn't have offspring, sure, but it probably would've made more sense for the unclaimed to go to Hestia's cabin so that the Hermes cabin wouldn't be so crowded

This isn't really a world building issue, but I think I should bring it up: I'm not saying this against the Kane Chronicles fandom, but... Sadie and Anubis. Why. Like you can't convince me that no one WASN'T weirded out by that.

Less of a complaint and more of a question because I can't remember if the question was answered in HoO or not, but when Percy told the Gods to start claiming their unclaimed children and be more decent parents (as he should, go off king), did that request apply to the Romans at Camp Jupiter too? Because that's gotta have been confusing when the unclaimed kids at CP suddenly started getting claimed 😭😭

I could go on a whole ass tangent about PJO, but that would make this post longer than it needs to be 😭😭 and any of the points might not make much sense, since I haven't read the books in a LONG time

Off to the YA Fantasy segment... Hoo boy.

The oversaturation of Hades/Persephone retellings makes me SEETHE. Why is it always Hades and Persephone why can't it be something else 😭

I just don't like the “modern feminist” retellings of Greek myths in the YA Fantasy genre, in general. They tend to completely miss the point of the original myth, and it's the case with a lot of Hades and Persephone retellings where they try to paint Hades as the good guy taking Persephone away from her control freak mother, Demeter.

Because that wasn't what the myth was about. The myth isn't a love story, at least, not a romantic one. It was about Demeter's love for Persephone and how much she wanted her daughter back after Hades stole her away. Keep in mind, in the historical context of the myth, the daughters of women in ancient Greece never really get to see their mothers after their engagements are solidified.

If they wanted to make a “feminist” retelling of the myth, they'd have it centered around the love Demeter had for Persephone to almost doom the mortal realm to an eternal winter to get her back.

I love the myth of Hades and Persephone, truly, I do. I understand the appeal it has on people, the appeal it has one me. I can see why people adore the myth in the way they do because Hades is one of the better husbands in Greek mythology (a low bar, but my point still stands).

Personally, I blame Lore Olympus and especially the video of the myth by Overly Sarcastic Productions for the way the myth is portrayed in mass media. And I say this as a former LO fan and a fan of Overly Sarcastic Productions 😭

I'd also want to go into my many, MANY gripes about “Crown of Starlight” by Cait Corrain, but in all honesty? I don't think I can properly convey how much I DESPISE Cait and their book. So I'd highly recommend y'all to check out the videos about Cait Corrain by Reads With Rachel, WithCindy, and Xiran Jay Zhao on YouTube if you're interested in going into more detail about the controversies, especially for those who weren't made aware of it.

I feel like the publishing industry just... Isn't good anymore, after Booktok went viral. Reading has been “hot girlified”, and all Booktok seems to ask when they get recommended a book is: “Is it spicy??”

Reading is like fast fashion, now. It's all based around certain popular tropes that that's how books are promoted now. Not for the plot — or sometimes lack thereof — but for the tropes the book has.

The only thing I can thank Booktok for is that they helped me discover The Cruel Prince. And even then, it's marketed as romance on there, when it's a political fantasy with a romance subplot.

‼️ Woah! A secret bonus section! ‼️

I, personally, don't read — nor do I like — Sarah J Maas. (Especially considering the problematic aspects of her storytelling, character portrayals, and is (apparently, correct me if I'm wrong) a Zionist)

However, that isn't to say that I don't like some of the characters she makes. A lot of them have potential, actually! From what I've seen, I think Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin and Lucien from ACOTAR are the only characters I actually like, based on what I've heard — and seen — on anything in the SJM critical tag on this hellsite.

And while we're at it, let's discuss the elephant in the room with ACOTAR, right? Rhysand.

By all that is good and holy, I hate Rhysand so much and I think I'd hate him even more if I actually READ the books. I don't get why Booktok is so invested in him when Maas retconned Tamlin's character to make him look better as Feyre's love interest.

Also, from what I recall, didn't Rhysand sexually assault Feyre? And he didn't bother to apologize for it, and justified it with his sad tragic backstory??

I can't with y'all, istg 😭 the fact that “Feysand” is apparently a Hades and Persephone retelling too makes me even more mad about it because it isn't even a GOOD retelling. It just takes away what ACOTAR originally was— a Beauty and the Beast retelling, with Feyre and Tamlin as the leads.

Didn't Maas dedicate ACOTAR to her husband because “He would go under the mountain” for her??? BECAUSE IT CERTAINLY WASN'T RHYSAND WHO SAVED FEYRE FROM UTM, I'LL TELL YOU THAT

I think, out of all the series Maas has made thus far, Throne of Glass is the only one I ACTUALLY kind of like, based on what I've heard. Crescent City seems to be too complicated to understand, and even though I've never read it myself, I miss what ACOTAR could've been. (My hope lies with Nesta, Elucien and Gwynriel, at this point)

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Script progress + Updates💙

Hello and welcome new followers, long time no see! I was very busy most of this month, but I am back and ready to continue from where I left off on the game! This game development post might be a bit long but I tried to condense everything! :]

"How are things going so far?":

It's going slow and steady! I haven't been able to do too much these past few weeks, however, I wrote a few parts out before I got too busy and couldn't do anything else.

I want to be very careful when it comes to spoilers but, based on your choices, some of these areas will give off immersive cozy/homelike vibes that really express Noah and the player(Y/N)'s view towards each other. In the old 2023 script I was very new to writing so the small semi-hints of romance weren't the entire focus compared to the horror aspect but there's a better balance between both genres now and I'm still aiming for a meaningful slow burn versus it just being all over the place. :] I liked writing them a whole bunch which lead to a lot of these taking place in the mid/end of Day 4+, they just need to be placed in specific areas that call for it. With that being said, it felt really comfy adding key details about Noah and creating meaningful sections in the game. I was even going to draw out some of the unseen script/scenes but I believe the best thing to do is give deeper lore from the [Extended Demo] first. Even though my writing style has improved I still have to fix the multiple pacing issues I wrote last year.

"Playtester's advice":

I wanted to continue working through Noah's backstory but I kept having moments where I'd get sidetracked into wanting to fix up the start of the game again. Eventually, I talked to my play testers about it and they gave me a few encouraging pointers.

To help keep my process at ease, I will fix the beginning of the game when I take breaks from writing up Noah's backstory. :]

I talked about this during early 2024 but the start of the game that leads up to the cabin is still getting reworked. I was able to get some of it fixed for the [Extended Demo] but I wasn't done. Things are still up in the air but, I will say that I have a better view of everything than I did before. :] Another priority that needs fixing are the backgrounds! I've improved a lot on drawing and they need to be optimized. When you first start up the game, you wake up in a holed out tree in the swamp with the choice to leave this area and possibly end up in the forest. I was going for a very immersive form of symbolism that only a few noticed but, I believe I can do a better job about this. Unfortunately I don't have any new backgrounds to show right now but maybe next week I'll have some finished up! :]

"Art process/Noah's sprite sheets":

As far as Noah sprite sheet goes, it's still in sketch mode.

I didn't draw anything since I was gone so I need to do a few warm ups before I get to them. There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and old sketches that I never got a chance to doodle so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

My Q&A / Ask box has been reset!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks in the past, unfortunately they all disappeared except for 1 while I was gone. I have no idea what happened but I can only guess it just got reset.

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask or resend them in here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and patience while I was gone! I was ready to accept the interest for this game to fade out and coming back to see that it didn't happen makes me happy, I really appreciate it. :,]

[bubblegumr1ck]

Listen. Listen. I am gripping your shoulders painfully. I know this is just Morty in The Hole and the whole thing is about his dependence on Rick but. They buy a house together. Why are you dialling the number for the psych ward

[mass-convergence]

PSA:

For the love of god do not publicly post screenshots of private messages.

The world is a shitty and inhospitable enough place - we don't need to make internet spaces like that too. I mean they're already like that but we don't need to actively make it worse.

[risingsunresistance]

ugh

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[lovelytsunoda]

give me a kiss (or three) // lando norris

summary: matching clothes shouldn't turn lando on this much.

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: smut, the worst description I have ever written, it’s a lil bit cringe. lando has a nickname for his dick, and a box of flavoured condoms in his bedside drawer. lowkey inspired by an audio posted by the wonderful @2-fast-2-curious. (I took a lot of creative liberties and added a ton of things, but the base idea is still there), there's more laughter than sex in here my dudes-

seeing lando norris wrapped up in the soft pink bedspread should not have warmed her heart the way that it did.

she had slipped out of the bed and ducked across the hallway to use the bathroom, and when she came back, her chest seized at the sight of her lover, his arms wrapped around the massive section of duvet that she was previously buried under.

she never thought she'd see the day, and she never thought she could feel this way about someone who felt the same way back.

she slowly began to dress, careful not to make any noise in the small bedroom. not only would she prefer not to wake her roommates, lando himself was a light sleeper and he needed to be well rested before they went to visit her parents that afternoon.

"sweetheart?" lando mumbled, messy-haired and groggy as he began to surface from underneath the duvet. "its so early, what are you doing awake?"

"i have to run to tescos, and then i have boxing at ten." she smiled softly, tightening the strap on her lacy bralette. "i wanted to let you sleep in. you'll need all your energy for the drive later."

lando snorted, sitting up straight, his curls matted by sleep and sticking to his skin. "there's no way you're wearing a bra that nice to your boxing class."

"i'll change when i get there." she chuckled, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

the blankets shifted with the movement, falling away from lando's thighs to where his royal blue boxers hugged his skin. the man looked down, and then over to the matching set his girlfriend was wearing before he let out a laugh.

"what's so funny?"

"your bra matches my underwear." lando snickered. "we match. a perfect pair."

she couldn't help but join in with her lovers laughter and mirth, looping her arm's around his neck with a chortle. his skin was warmed against hers, which had rapidly cooled since she had emerged from her blanket huddle and into the winter air that filled her home.

"you're so cringe." she giggled, standing between his legs, the slight shade of difference between their underclothes making her smile.

he was right. they were almost a perfect pair.

"cringe? you think i'm cringe?" lando feigned hurt, squeezing her sides playfully. he kissed her deeply, nipping at her bottom lip as his hands roamed her lower body.

the kiss was passionate, yet playful, smiles evident on both of their faces (even when lando slipped his tongue into her mouth, earning a surprised shout).

"not as cringe as the time-" she stopped midsentence, whining as lando ran his tongue along the sweet spot on her neck before diving back in to kiss her. "you wore the monoply boxers."

"i thought 'wanna go to jail" was a great line!"

"yeah, for a fifteen year old boy!"

"it still worked, didn't it?" lando laughed, grabbing at her thighs to roll them over.

the duvet was soft and pillowy around her, bunched up just enoough around her that it narrowed her field of vision. all that existed in that moment was her and lando.

just the way she liked it. she loved it when they were silly like this, playful and sexy at the same time. an experience that felt so uniquely like the two of them and their love, and ensured that they never got tired of being intimate with each other.

"am i still cringe when i've got your wrists pinned to the bed?" lando smirked, his body a comfortable weight against hers, her wrists cradled against the goose down.

"i dunno." she smiled arching upwards to press her lips against his. "why don't we find out?"

lando grinned at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "i like the way you think, but don't you have to go to boxing?"

"they won't miss me. i'm there three times a week as it is." she smiled, snaking one bare leg around his.

lando's touch was as familiar as her afternoon stretching routine. every brush of his fingertips against her skin made her feel powerful, like she could do anything. his lips were comfortable and warm against hers, yet new and exciting every time. lando's grip on her wrists let up, and she buried her fingers in his curls, tugging softly.

"fuck, babe. i love it when you do that." he moaned, lips dancing over the material of her bralette, tonguing at her peaked nipples.

"i know." she hummed, breath hitching. "oh, i love it when you do that."

"that's my girl." lando hummed, reverence in his eyes and a serene expression on his face as he continued to kiss across her collarbone, throughout the valley between her breasts. "you want my fingers, baby? want me to make you feel good?"

“please.” she keened, arching into him.

landos calloused fingers danced across her thigh, over the cluster of freckles that used to make her feel so insecure but he so dearly loved, reaching for the damp spot on her panties. his touch was feather light, running up and down her slit, barely applying any pressure at all.

“lando.” she breathed, making a show of spreading her legs wider for him.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl.” he hummed, tugging her panties to the side before dipping two fingers in with a moan. “all this for me? you’re so wet, love.”

“only for you.” she moaned, breath hitching as she dug her fingernails into landos shoulder blades, his tongue darting out to lick the sweat off her neck. “oh, baby.”

“such a good girl for me, taking my fingers so well.” he praised, using his free hand to guide her face towards his.

lando kissed her deeply, her hands moving to clutch his hair as his fingers fucked her deeper. every inch of her body was on fire with desire, pleasure pooling in her stomach, her lovers hard cock pressing against her stomach while he finger-fucked her to high heaven.

“oh my god, lando, fuck, I think I’m gonna-“

she didn’t have time to finish that thought before lando pulled his fingers out abruptly, making a show out of licking them off as she whined impatiently at her ruined orgasm.

“what the fuck, dude!”

lando just laughed, kissing her forehead. “payback, sweetheart. you called me cringe, so you don’t get to come.”

“fuck you.”

“I beleive you’re trying to.”

the room went awkwardly silent, so much so that you could hear a pin drop. and then, all at once, they both burst out laughing. the kind of laughter that makes your eyes water, your stomach start to hurt. Lando was laughing so hard that he dropped back onto the bed, bare chest heaving as he looked up at the ceiling.

“why the fuck did I say that?” he cackled.

“I don’t know!” she laughed back. “if it helps, I thought it was cute, and it really made me want to suck your dick.”

“yes, actually. that does help.” landos eyes brightened as she shifted his position, sliding his boxers down his legs. “little lando has missed your pretty face.”

“little lando? god I hate that you have a nickname for your penis.”

“we’ll, if you’re going to insult him like that-“

“shut up.” she breathed, kissing him with a smile. “do we have any of those flavoured condoms left?”

lando grinned. “watermelon or fruit punch?”

she slipped off the bed, foot tangling with the flat sheet as she crouched in front of the bedside table, digging through the drawer for the small red box, searching for the elusive fruit punch condom.

she had never been a fan of giving head. there was something about it that had always just icked her out, but lando made her want to try. she wanted to expand her horizons with him, not for him. it took a lot of trial and error, but they found a way: flavoured condoms. this way, it was more enjoyable for her as well as him. it was akin to a warm ice lolly, rather than a body part.

she deftly ripped the packaging open, sliding the rubber shield onto landos cock. she positioned herself between his legs, taking a few deep breaths before taking his cock in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and running her tongue up and down the shaft.

“oh my god!” lando moaned, resisting the urge to buck his hips. getting blown was always a treat for him, considering that y/n didn’t enjoy it all the time, finding it more stressful than it was worth. but every time she did it, he was reminded just how incredible she was at it.

it was a treat, one that he would savour until the end of time.

he bit his lip to stifle a moan, dropping his hand to the back of her head. he was big in her mouth, weighty against her tongue. she closed her eyes, sucking gently.

“god, you’re so perfect.” lando whined, rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb on the side of her head. “taking me like such a good girl.”

she opened her eyes, chancing a look at the love of her life. she moaned at the sight of his rippling abs, body contorted in pleasure.

all because of her. she did that.

“fucking hell, honey. I think I’m gonna blow.”

lando came with a howl, hips stuttering as he came inside the condom sheath. she slipped off his cock quickly, leaving a trail of saliva behind as she made her way up his body to press a soft kiss to landos lips. using a handful of tissues, he slipped the condom off, balling it up and tossing it in the wastebasket. his breathing was heavy, but he was raring to go for more.

“sit on my cock, babe. ride me, please. I need it.”

she smiled, kissing him again. “now who’s the needy one?”

“shut up. do you want to come on my dick or not?” he joked, tickling her sides.

she playfully pushed him against the headboard before rooting around for another condom (a normal one, this time). she pressed the foil packet into lando's hand before getting to her feet and sliding off her soaked panties. she moved to take off her bra as well, but lando grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"keep it on, gorgeous."

and how could she argue when he was giving her puppy dog eyes?

she sunk down slowly, dramatically playing up her actions with some hair-fluffing and boob-primping. lando laughed underneath her, the sound distracting her from the sting as he stretched her out with his cock.

she shifted slowly at first, moving her hips in slow, torturous circles, biting her lip to stop a moan. her lover groaned, looking up at her with lust and reverence in his eyes.

"comfy?" he quipped, hands gently moving to grip her backside.

"very." she smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

lando wasted no time in guiding her movements, lifting her up and down on his cock like it was no effort at all. her fingernails dug into his shoulders, small pants coming out in quick breaths as she bounced on his length.

"oh my god, lando." she whined. "you feel so good. so good, baby."

"that's my girl." lando hummed, dotting kisses along her collarbone, his hands grabbing fistfuls of her ass. "only i get to see you like this, make you feel this good." he growled "and you're doing so so well for me, love."

if lando were to explain what having sex with his girlfriend was like in two words, he'd probably say coming home. she was his safe haven. they fit together like a glove, always seemed to know what the other needed without saying a word. and if they spent more time laughing than actually having sex, or fi their sex was goofier than it was seductive? that didn't matter to him. all that mattered was that they spent that time together.

just two people in love, showing the other just how much.

every bit of praise made her skin break out in goosebumps. she could feel herself dripping onto lando's thighs, but she didn't care. she just wanted to be close to him. as close as physically possible. she arched inwards, leaning against his chest for support as lando stopped moving her hips, instead thrusting his up rapidly to meet hers, a strangled moan escaping her throat.

"that's it, princess. you don't need to do any of the work. lando's got you." he cooed, pressing kisses to her sweaty forehead, whispering words of praise in between moans and grunts. animalistic sounds that just turned her on even more, pleasure reverberating throughout her body.

her slender fingers came up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently. lando moaned softly, angelically, his head tilted backwards and his eyes closed. it was a heavenly sight as he leaned down to sew her lips to his, walls beginning to contract against his cock.

"fuck, lando, go faster. i'm so close, baby." she whined, feeling him pick up the pace, hugging her body closer. she matched his movements, circling her hips and reaching a hand towards her clit.

"you coming, baby? you gonna come all over my thick, hard dick?" lando crooned. "touching yourself for me? getting yourself off on my cock."

"lando, please." she breathed, fingers rapidly moving against her swollen bud. she could feel herself getting closer, the band in her stomach getting tighter. "make me come."

he kissed her hard, thrusting deeper, the room echoing with the sounds of his skin slapping against hers, his guttural moans as his head fell back against the pillows. she could feel him release into the condom, his dick shuddering inside her, the latex getting warmer as it filled.

that was enough to trigger her own release, her juices pouring out of her, running down lando's shaft and dripping onto his thighs. she came with a cry of his name, bracing her hands against the headboard. her limbs felt like jelly as she tried to ease herself off him.

"easy does it." lando spoke softly, his voice raspy (as it usually was after sex), his touch gentle as he eased her down onto the bed. "remember to breathe, there's still water on the nightstand from last night. finish the glass, darling." he kissed her forehead softly before stripping himself of the condom and wiping her legs up with a handful of tissues. "come here."

she smiled, placing the now-empty ikea glass on the nightstand before curling up against him, wrapping her naked limbs over his, pulling the flat sheet over their bodies.

"this was a much better workout than boxing." she smiled, resting her head on his chest. "you're more fun than the coach is."

"i should hope so. i need to give you a reason to keep me around." lando joked, kissing her forehead. "i love you, my darling darling girl."

"i love you too, my handsome boy." she smiled, leaning up to kiss him, trailing a hand across his face as they kissed softly.

"by the way, this doesn't absolve you of driving to my mum's later. and yes, we're still going."

"god damn it! she always sends home with so much crap, i can't fit it all in the mclaren!"

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @twinkodium @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @lorarri @userlando

[hollyoongs]

NUMBER ONE ✦ S.JY

pairing scuderia ferrari racer!jake x scuderia ferrari race engineer!fem reader

summary The Australian Grand Prix was something Jake has been looking forward to winning since he entered the F1 races, so when he wins, he also wins a big victory celebration on your part.

genre smut

warnings thigh humping, orgasm denial, fingering, 69, squirting (two times), use of sexual toy (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby and princesse), spanking, sub!reader, dom!jake (he's so pussy drunk)

a/n this is my first gift from me to my lovely friend @cmoundiamante since it's her birthday and because I couldn't decide which of my gifts to post, but both of this deserve to be out here. Also, this happens in an alternative universe where en- and bynextdoor are actually F1 racers, only the teams that actually play in F1 remains the same and I've the permission of my friend to actually use her format since it's her present, in case you didn't know.

wc +3.9k

As you walked into the bustling Australian Grand Prix track alongside the rest of the Scuderia Ferrari team, the air was charged with excitement. The fans' euphoric screams reverberated throughout the circuit, a cacophony of support for their favorite teams. It was a special Grand Prix, especially for one person in particular, Jake Shim.

For Jake, racing in Australia held significance beyond the adrenaline of competition. It was a melding of his upbringing, shaped both by the country that practically raised him and the Korean customs instilled by his parents. As he donned his racing suit, the blend of cultures felt palpable, driving him to perform at his best on the track.

Amidst the buzz of the paddock, you caught sight of Jake preparing himself. As you made your way over to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his determination and skill. "Hey, Jake," you greeted him with a warm smile, "ready to show them what you're made of out there?"

Jake returned your smile, his eyes alight with determination. "You know it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "This one's special, not just for me but for us."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"It's actually true. I'm in my hometown with the girl of my dreams on the team that I've worked so hard to get into."

"Ah, so I'm just the girl of your dreams now?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you adjusted the lanyard around your neck, indicating your role as a Scuderia Ferrari steward.

Jake chuckled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "Of course not; you're more than that. You're the reality of my dreams," he said, his tone sincere as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Smooth talker," you remarked with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "But seriously, Jake, I have a good feeling about today. You've been putting in the work, and it's going to pay off."

His smile widened, mirroring the confidence that radiated from him. "Thanks, babe. I'm going to give it my all out there and take that trophy home." He said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination.

"I'm actually looking forward to it because…" You went near him, your lips at the same height as his "I don't want to waste your victory present."

"What do you mean?"

"Want a clue? You know what they say about a nice outfit…" You leaned in, kissing him and making him sigh when you went back again to his ear. "It's what's underneath that counts."

"Jake! It's time to be in position for the practice race." You backed away with an angelic smile for the boss after he called out your boyfriend. He was pushing your boyfriend backwards to his car as Jake was eyeing you up and down with his characteristic flirty smile.

The engines roared to life, filling the air with a symphony of power as the cars lined up on the grid, ready to tear through the track at breakneck speeds. Jake sat in his Ferrari, his focus razor-sharp as he visualized every turn and every maneuver he would need to make to clinch victory on his home turf. Behind him was his friend, Mingi, who was also adjusting to the car and communicating with the staff.

Beside him, the Red Bull of Sunghoon sat poised, his friend exuding confidence as he eyed the competition ahead. Mercedes' Nishimura Ri-Ki, ever the formidable opponent, sat further down the grid, his steely gaze betraying his determination to reclaim the top spot.

McLaren's Kim Sunoo exchanged a grin with Yang Jungwon, his teammate, as they prepared to make their mark on the race. Aston Martin Aramco, with Lee Heeseung and Park Jongseong at the helm, were determined to prove their worth on the track.

Alpine's Han Dongmin, the youngest of all the F1 drivers, shared a nod with his teammate Kim Donghyun, their eyes reflecting the fire of competition burning within. Williams, RB, Kick Sauber, and Haas completed the grid, each team eager to showcase their talents amidst the throngs of fans cheering from the stands.

As the lights above the track blinked to life, signaling the imminent start of the race and the end of the one and only, the tension reached a fever pitch. The air crackled with anticipation, the fans holding their breaths in anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold.

And then, with a deafening roar, the race began.

The cars surged forward, a blur of colors streaking past as they jostled for position in the opening corners. Jake navigated the chaos with precision, his Ferrari darting through the pack as he chased the elusive lead.

Beside him, Sunghoon fought tooth and nail to maintain his position, his Red Bull dancing on the edge of control as he pushed it to its limits. Ri-Ki, ever the strategist, bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As the race unfolded, the crackle of the radio cut through the roar of the engines, a lifeline connecting Jake and his team to navigate the twists and turns of the track. Amidst the chaos, your voice broke through, a beacon of calm in the storm.

"Jake, you're doing great out there," you said, your tone laced with encouragement. "Just keep your focus, and remember to breathe. You've got this."

Jake's grin was audible through the radio as he replied, his voice brimming with determination. "Thanks, darling. I'm feeling good; I just need to stay sharp."

"Just remember to control the curves in Sector 3 and let me know if there's a problem."

"Yes, ma'am." You let out a small smile with the nickname and started getting nervous for him.

As the laps ticked by, the race intensified, with each corner a battle for supremacy as the drivers pushed themselves and their machines to the absolute limit. Jake only went to the box two times, which made him pass from 4th to 6th, but he was so willing to take the win home, which made him give his all. Jake, fueled by the cheers of the crowd and the support of his team, refused to relent, inching ever closer to the front of the pack.

And then, as the checkered flag loomed on the horizon, Jake made his move. With a daring maneuver, he seized the lead, his Ferrari passing all the cars in front of him, and taking the opportunity of Ri-Ki's and Heeseung's hitting the box, Jake just went for it, his mind going blank for a second.

"And what a story this is for Jake Shim. What a performance! What a comeback! A Ferrari one-two headed by Jake Shim, who wins the Australian Grand Prix"

"Wait… did I hear that correctly?"

"Fuck yeah, you did P1!" You just won!" He clapped fast a few times, and before he sreamed of joy, he just couldn't believe it. He gave the last victory lap to the fans and went straight to his team.

As he climbed from his car, he took off his helmet with a triumphant smile on his face, the staff jumping to him in excitement. He caught sight of you in the crow, your eyes shining with pride. Crossing the paddock, he swept you up in his arms, the taste of victory sweet on his lips as he held you close and tasted your lips in a fond kiss, right before he ran to the podium and received not only the champagne that the three top drivers of the GP opened in a celebratory manner, but when Jake held high and proud the trophy, hearing all the cheers.

As all the events ended and all the staff got together in a happy mood, the head of the team made his way to the center of a circle, a joyful aura shining in him.

"I want to say congratulations to Jake and Mingi; today's performance was amazing, and because of that, we're going to have a celebration!" The boss announced it, his voice booming over the cheers of the team. "And since Ferrari came out on top, we will have a celebration later! So have a good rest, and we will let everyone know where it is after we prepare it. Great job everyone!"

After the exhilarating celebrations and festivities, the adrenaline began to wane, leaving in its wake a pleasant exhaustion that seemed to seep into every muscle and bone. Jake glanced at you, a contented smile gracing his lips as he realized just how much he was looking forward to some quiet time alone with you.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close. "Are you ready to head back to my place? I could use some rest and relaxation after today's excitement."

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes as you replied, "Lead the way, champion. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way through the bustling paddock and out into the cool evening air, the adrenaline of the race slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet anticipation of the intimate moments to come.

Once you arrived at Jake's house, the soft glow of the lights illuminated the room, casting a warm, inviting aura over everything.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You said, Jake saw your way, and his side smile popped out. You rolled your eyes. "No."

"Come on, you said—"

"I know what I said. Come to the bedroom in twenty." After you said that, you turned around and went to the shared bedroom, feeling his gaze on your ass as you walked out, swaying your hips slightly.

You showered quickly enough to get yourself ready, looking in the mirror every time you did something. You saw yourself, and you were proud of what you saw: the burgundy lingerie covering your body, a 4-piece lingerie set that featured a bra, a g-string pant, and a thigh garter, the floral lace soft underwire bra with garter leg straps highlighting your legs line, the light makeup in contrast to the color of your lips that matched your whole outfit, and of course, the color of your boyfriend team. You were fixing your hair when you heard the door of the bedroom open up. You looked at the time on your phone, and he actually waited twenty minutes.

“Babe? What are you doing?” You opened the door to reveal yourself to Jake, his eyes widening at the image.

Jake stood in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The soft glow of the bedroom lights played over your figure, accentuating every curve and contour of your body clad in the enticing burgundy lingerie set. His eyes lingered on the delicate lace and the way it hugged your curves in all the right places, igniting a fire of desire within him.

"You… you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire as he stepped closer, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his intense gaze. "I'm glad you think so," you murmured, feeling a surge of confidence at his reaction.

Jake closed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out to trace the lines of the lace along your skin. His touch sent shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire of longing deep within you.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Seeing you like this… It's almost too much to handle."

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, caressing every inch of your exposed skin, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

"You're the winner today," you whispered, your voice barely above a breathless sigh as you melted into his touch, your hands going straight to the buttons of his jeans, opening them up as you moved your hands to remove his shirt. The tattoo on his ribs is on full display, and his necklaces are shining in his neck. "I will do anything that you want. Congratulations, winner."

With a hunger that matched your own, Jake captured your lips in a searing kiss, his desire evident in every movement and every touch. In that moment, all thoughts of the race and of the celebrations faded into the background, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable passion that burned between you.

The kisses followed their level; all the passion could be seen in those kisses, as Jake would not take his hand off your neck and the other one off your figure while making his hair a mess that he could care very little about. They went a little further into bed. You sat Jake down with a gentle push, and you opened his legs with your hands as you kneeled down to him, taking off his pants once and for all.

The moment you stood up, Jake started playing with a thread from your thong, stopping almost immediately when you positioned your entry on his right thigh and stuck your lips to his sensitive neck.

His breath hitched as your lips trailed along his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His fingers tightened around the delicate lace of your lingerie, pulling you closer to him as he let out a low groan of pleasure. Every touch and every whisper of your lips against his skin fueled the fire burning between you, igniting a passion that threatened to consume you both.

As you continued to explore each other's bodies with feverish intensity, time seemed to slow to a standstill, the world outside disappearing as you lost yourselves in each other. With every kiss and every caress, the connection between you deepened, transcending the physical realm and delving into something far more profound.

In that moment, there were no barriers, no inhibitions, just the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. And as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of desire, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with endless pleasure and exploration.

You could feel how your pants started getting wet with Jake's caresses, especially on occasional taps on your breasts and buttocks. You started with a gentle movement that let out a sigh from your side. You looked for some sign of dissatisfaction in your partner, meeting Jake biting your lower lip while watching your action. Jake dropped the palms of his hands at every slap of your ass, making you pant in combination with a little surprise.

"You're too much for me, baby." Jake threw his head back and raised his hands to your hips, the top of his thigh being soaked by your natural lubricant. You hid your face in the hole connecting his neck and shoulder, his ear receiving your ecstatic jades, making known the wave of pleasure you were feeling. He stopped your movements for a second and handled your hips so that you jumped on his thigh. The vibration they caused went straight to your clitoris, making you moan a little higher than usual.

Jake took his hands out of his place and removed your bra. Delighted with the movements of your breasts with the leaps he made, he took his hands behind him and smiled with a little malice. Jake knew when you were at the edge, repeating his name amidst loud moans and whining so he could fuck you like they both knew they liked.

"You're close, princess?" You gave a loud moan in response, and he took your jaw and made you look at him. "Tell me, baby. Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna cum so bad." You started speeding up, feeling the knot of pleasure about to explode until they were stopped by Jake, who held you as he took out his legs, causing you to shake by the sudden stop.

He once again attracted your lips, holding you as close as he could to calm yourself down and shut the whines from your mouth. His hands snaked to your back thighs and made you jump, your legs wrapping his hips and getting your dripping entrance in touch with his clothed erect member, making him moan in your lips.

Jake left you in bed for a moment, opening the closet in pairs until he found his favorite object. You couldn't hold your breath knowing what was in his hand. He stood in front of the bed with it in his hand, still with that smile you loved, but right now, it made you tremble.

"You told me I could do what I wanted, right?" You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he scanned your body again with desire; you could feel it for miles. "You know how I like to see you."

Without waiting any longer, you sat in bed, making a space for him. Jake took off his annoying boxers, and he was next to you in no time. With a little sign, you put your covered entrance on his face, his lips kissing your inner thighs, which made you sigh with pleasure, still delighted with what you did earlier. You licked your lips when you saw his dick, completely erect and red, desperate to be cared for. Jake's hands completely lowered your last complicated garment, opening your vagina with his two fingers and blowing a little to get a moan out of you that reached his dick, getting him to move a little.

You spat on his dick, feeling his legs shake because of the sudden action. Your right hand caught him, creating a delicious swing that made Jake moan. You could feel your fluids falling into Jake's face because of Jake's stimulation of your clitoris; something he loved too much was seeing your entrance palpitating in anticipation.

"Baby, do you want my fingers first or my tongue?" You liked that thought of it, which makes you close around nothing, and now it was Jake turning to lick his lips. He slapped your ass one more time, making your entrance touch his mouth, the sensation making you stay there. "My good girl wants to be eat out? Making you more wet than you are so my dick can enter your pretty and tight cunt?"

"Fuck yeah, Jake, please eat me out." Your voice sounded so pretty to him that he just forced you down to stay there with his arms in your legs.

"Good fucking girl," for a second, you forgot to continue your movements, the pleasure being too much with his tongue creating circles in your clitoral area and traveling all across your entrance. You starred at your movements on his dick at a faster pace, getting in response to him squeezeing your ass in delight.

Now, your mouth was on his tip, kitten licks being delivered and causing him to twitch. You kept that for more minutes until you felt his two fingers ipening your entrance, your back arching up.

"No matter how many times I fuck you numb, you're still fucking thight. My girl is so thight for me as usual. Fuck, baby." He stopped his words and movements when you entered his dick into your mouth. His deep grunts and moans motivated you, loosing your throat so all of his length went inside. You hollowed your cheeks and controlled your gag reflexes.

"Baby, don't stop; you're such a good girl for me." The pace of his fingers continued faster, distracting you a few times, his cock blocking your loud moans and only the sounds of your wet entrace and his dick having the blowjobs of his life surrounding the room. You felt his dick getting swollen in your mouth, and his grunts just got louder.

You sucked everything out of him until you felt his fingers disappearing from your entrance and the vibration of the vibrator he pulled out on your clitoris. Your mouth was opened for that, and Jake's first drop of sperm stopped right at the back of your throat. Jake's hand took his dick, moving it fast, and let all its essence fall on your face and part of your clavicles, some of it landing inside your mouth. His other hand had stuck the vibrator on you, your body shaking endlessly and your moaning finally being free.

Jake settled in where his head was before; now there was his dick, his fingers going back in, and you felt like any minute you were going to collapse.

"I know you're going to cum, but you have to wait one minute. Can my good girl do that?"

"Yes, Jake. I can do that." Jake turned up the speed of it, and you just shoved your head into the pillow, hearing him count so slowly that you were staring to get a tear in your eye. One minute passed, and he smiled proudly.

"Cum all over my dick, baby," as you did it. His fingers made more obvious the amount of squirt coming down to his dick and legs, wetting your lower bodies for another minute, and he did not stop his fingers until you had nothing. You got on all fours after a few seconds of watching him move his dick up and down again., him puching you like you were before. Your ass up and your face planted on the mattress. "Stay like that."

"For fuck sakes, Jake. Let me—oh shit." His dick opened up your entrance suddenly after he put the condom in, your moans matching as you felt your mind going cloudy. Jake threw his head back as he slowly pushed himself to touch your sweet spot. You screamed in pleasure when he did it, being silenced by the pillow you were biting.

He couldn't wait, and his movements were fast, your ass moving like waves every time he thrust himself into you. Jake got as much noise as you, your thightness making him touch the sky, and your moans getting messier and louder once again.

"Jake, I'm cumming again."

"You're not. Not until I come first so that you can cum in my mouth." He felt how you clenched, and he slapped your ass. He took your hair in a messy ponytail and arched your back. "You want to cum? Then wait." The sound of your bodies colliding got faster, and he captured your lips when he felt like cumming completely. Once he left you, he grabbed the vibrator, reaching it to the tenth level. You held his arms, finally letting out the screams you were holding while that toy was inside you and your fingers in your clitoral area.

He laid down to face your cunt again. "Good job, baby. Make a mess all over me." His tongue got out of his mouth, and the view was enough to make you squirt bigger than the last one. Jake was so pussy drunk that he just went up a few seconds to have it all.

The heavy breathing of both of you was loud. Jake gently massaged your legs as you fell on the bed again, right next to him as he kissed you gently. The tiredness was invading both of you, but even with how tired you were, you smiled at him.

"How was your celebration?"

"Better than the trophy, for sure. You were perfect; you're perfect. I don't deserve you."

"Congratulations, my number one."

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Mean-Girls x Fem!Reader

"Just Girly Things"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying (Not at Reader), name callung, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, masturbation, sex toys, mean girls, dumbification, buying affection.

(AN: I'm not super proud of this one, but did my best. Never written a fem!Yan before.)

The sound of clicking keypads and the occasional scoff can be heard in Maggie Robinsons loft bedroom. As the most popular girl at Delta High, it was important her room look as perfect as her. She chews on the strawberry flavored gum in her mouth, scrolling through her phone. She scoffs. "Sasha, did you see Jenny Taylor's latest post?" Sasha gags and nods. "Totally a spray-on tan." Sasha says, and Maggie nods. "She looks like a fucking orange. I bet you that nerd she's been with, his dick is that same shade right now..." The two cackle.

"Is he sick?" The third and final member of the group of cheerleaders asks. "Why would his dick be orange?" Sasha sighs, and puts a hand on her friends knee. "Lindsey, his dick is orange because her fake tan would rub off on it. It isn't like, permanently that color. It was a joke." Sasha explains. Lindsey pauses and tilts her head, before giggling. "Oh, I get it!" She claps her hands together, shaking the sequinned bracelet around her wrist as she does so. Maggie grins and roll her eyes at Lindsey's air-headed nature. Luckily, Sasha is always around to explain he jokes, because Maggie won't. She likes to watch her dumb subordinate work things out slowly.

"What about you, newbie? Ever had a fake tan?" She whips her head over to face you. You gulp as the school's queen bee sets her sights on you. You aren't sure why she seemed so fixated on you since you joined Delta High. Maybe it's because you were pretty, or talented, or just really obedient, but she's been dragging you around like a little purse dog since you met her, with Sasha and Lindsey flanking you both at all times. "Um, no." You mumble. She nods, and says "Good, you already have good skin. I mean, you should get a little more tan, but not with that shitty spray stuff. Or, y'know, you'll turn some jocks dick orange." The three laugh. "Because the tan rubs off!" Lindsey giggles. Maggie rolls her eyes, and groans. "Yes, Lindsey. Thanks for explaining." Lindsey looks down.

"Speaking of, have any of the guys at school caught your eye? I mean, like, appropriate ones for you. Not a fucking mathlete dork or something." She asks. "Not really. I've never actually had a boyfriend." The three girls freeze, and gasp. "Seriously?" "You've never had a boyfriend?" Maggie asks. She waves frantically, trying to get you to sit beside her on her bed. "Why not?" She asks. "Do you have a sex disease? Like... like cancer?" Lindsey asks, eyes wide. "Sex cancer, seriously?" Sasha says, glancing at her blonde friend, who only shrugs. "No one was ever interested, I guess." You grimace. You hadn't ever been popular, only making Maggie's interest in you more jarring. You had finally gotten a peek at what it was like to be school royalty.

"Not interested? Aw, you poor baby." Maggie pouts. "That's why you have us, you know? To doll you up, and keep you popular, that way you can have anyone you want." Sasha chirps. "I can't believe no one ever tried to get with you, you're like, really pretty." You smile awkwardly. "Thanks, Lindsey."

Maggie scoots closer, and you bite back a gasp when you feel her cold hands on your tank top, cupping your breasts. "Honestly. The jocks at school are horndogs, they'll stick it in anything, I'm surprised you haven't gotten any attention because of these." She bites her lips as her eyes wander down to your cleavage. "They're natural, right?" You nod. You feel the bed dip behind you, as Sasha and Lindsey join the two of you on the bed. "So you've never kissed anybody?" Sasha asks, tilting her head as her curls bounce. "No, I've kissed a boy, back in church in like, middle school or something." You chuckle, shrugging and rolling your eyes.

"What about kissing girls?" Your eyes widen. You shake your head as you feel the three girls gazes resting heavily on you. "I haven't. Why do you ask?" Maggie grins. "You could try with us. You're one of us now, you've gotta live a little. I mean, you haven't even had a boyfriend, or done it with someone. Let us help you." She coos. She leans in, and you gulp. "Don't you have a boyfriend, Maggie? Jason, right?" She asks. Maggie nods. "Yeah, but like, he won't care. He'll probably think this is hot or something. Besides, it's just girls helping each other out. It's not like a random hookup, we're all friends here." She feigns hurt at your hesitance, pouting. "Don't you like us?" Lindsey whines, giving you puppy dog eyes as she rests her head on your shoulder from behind. "No, I like you guys, it's just-" You look at Lindsey. "Alright, we can do this." You sigh. Maggie grins, and puts her hands on your waist, pressing her chest to yours. "Good, it's not even weird. It's like, just girly things." She explains. She bites your lip playfully, making you blush as she finally presses her lips to yours. As you kiss the school's queen bee, you can taste the light strawberry flavor of her gum, and as she pulls away a string of sticky lip gloss connects your lips for a moment.

"See? You did good, especially for someone who's only kissed once before." Maggie coos. Lindsey pops up to kiss your cheek. "Your skin is so soft!" She giggles, nuzzling your neck. Sasha sits to the side, waiting for orders from Maggie. "Lemme see your chest." Maggie begins to tug up your tight, white tanktop, grinning when she sees that you have no bra on. "No bra, huh? Maybe you wanted us to do this?" She teases. "Pretty..." She circles her fingers around your left nipple, watching it pebble up. "I bet you're sensitive, huh?" Sasha asks. You can't speak, and only nod. Maggie's cold hands make you shiver, as she gropes your breasts with a wicked grin. She reaches down and puts Lindsey's hands on your breasts. "Lindsey, keep playing with her tits, okay? I'm gonna move a little lower." Lindsey nods, fondling your breasts from behind. "I'll try not to scratch you, my nails are kinda long right now..." She giggles. Maggie hikes up your skirt, keeping it around your waist. She licks her lips as she touches the black panties covering your cunt. "Are these from that department store on 9th?" She asks. "Uh, yeah?" She rolls her eyes. "You don't need to be wearing that shit, that's for people like Jenny Taylor, not girls like us. Tell you what-" She leans closer to your ear, kissing the shell of it. "You make me cum, and I'll take you downtown tomorrow and buy you something cute. That's sure to help you get a guy." She obviously has no intentions of getting you a boyfriend, considering the way her gaze turns possessive. Still, she can't deny that she likes the idea of seeing you in something lacey, especially something she bought you. She notices from the corner of her eye how Sasha is squirming, clearly eager to act, rubbing her thighs together subconsciously.

"Sasha?" Her head perks up immediatly, and she stills. "Y-yes, Maggie?" She pants. "Go get my wand, the pink one." Sasha nods, and scurries over to Maggie's closet, digging around for something. She manages to pull out a pink wand, with a microphone-like rubber tip. You can feel Maggies fingers trying to pull your panties to the side. "You ever played with yourself?" She whispers. You nod. "Yeah, a few times." You admit. "How?" She presses an index against your aroused clit. You gasp. "Fingers! I use my fingers, inside me." You moan. She pouts again, as Sasha hands her the wand. "Well, no wonder your little clit is so swollen, you've not been giving it any attention." She coos. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing." She takes the wand from Sasha. "It feels so good." Sasha says, her eyes full of sincerity. You wonder just how many times these girls have done this sort of thign. Does anyone else at school know?

You are torn from your thoughts when you hear a whirring sound. "What's that gonna do?" You ask. "It vibrates, and I'm just gonna press it right up against your clit, okay? It's gonna feel so fucking good..." She groans. "But, I'm going to enjoy something too. You know, for being such a good friend, and taking in a little newbie. You watch as Maggie mounts your thigh, gasping when you feel her slick pussy press against your leg. Has she not been wearing underwear this whole time? Your whole body flinches when you feel a pusling wave in your lower. "A-ah, shit." You grip the sheets of Maggie's bed tightly. Somehow, the stimulation to your clit makes Lindsey's pawing at your chest feel even more pleasurable. Maggie chuckles as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. "Feels good, huh? You like that? Your pretty new friends taking good care of you? Putting a pretty vibrator on your clit?" Her condescedngin tone makes you blush in shame. After a while, her moans grow in volume too. "Fuck, even just your thighs feel good. Maybe, god- maybe soon I'll ride your pussy like this." She groans. "God, not even Jason makes me feel this hot, this wet. That little limp-dick, can't even make me finish." She tilts her head back. "Sasha, take a photo, m' boutta cum." Sasha pales. "I don't... um, can I use you phone, mines dead?" Maggie doesn't open her eyes, but Sasha can sense her rage. "I don't care, just taking the fuckin' photo, I'm so close. C'mon, baby. Cum on my vibrator, I'll buy you something, anything, just do it." You weren't expecting to her Maggie beg for anything in your lifetime, much less for you to cum. Overwhelmed, you feel your orgasm hit hard. "M-maggie, I'm, oh..." She nods rapidly as she practically bounces on your thigh. "Yeah, right there, I'm cumming to..." She pants.

You close your eyes, but still sense a flash of light from Sasha snapping a photo. As your legs shake from the feeling, Maggie casually dismounts your thighs, sitting down on the bed beside you. She kisses your forehead. "You did so good. I'll get you something so cute to wear to school next week." She flips her hair and acts nonchalant, as if she hadn't just held a sex toy to your cunt while she rode your thigh like her life depended on it. "Sasha, let me see that photo." Sasha shows her the phone, and she grimaces. "Ugh, I look so fucking pale. Put a Sepia filter on it or something." Before Sasha can, Lindsay snatches the phone, and lets out a whine.

"Only my hands are in it! What the hell, Sasha!"

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[sweatervest-obsessed]

okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁

THIS IS SUCH A MESS but i hope you get my point</33

Um yeah so, absolutely. Some angst for you indeed. I love a convoluted and angsty fight, especially whenever someone is arguing in circles with someone else because they're both just so passionate but angry, anyways, heheh, enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

TW: Arguing, mentions of violence, mentions of prison, mentions of guns, honestly if you watched CM then that is your TW.

“I just want to know why you’ve been so distant lately. I mean, this is the first time I’m speaking with you one on one in over a week, and it’s because I manage to catch you in the office at nine fucking pm Y/n.”

"So what do you want me to say, Spence? What could I possibly have to say to you? I'm pretty sure Jennifer said everything there is to say."

This caused Spencer to lose all of the oxygen in his body. It froze up. You weren’t supposed to know what JJ had said, no one was supposed to know what JJ had said. 

You and Spencer were in the bullpen of the BAU. Luckily for both of you, since it was so late, no one else was there. Neither of you were extremely public when it came to your relationship, which meant neither of you would have chosen to have this conversation fight in a public place, but no one else was around.

I want you to say something you're afraid to say. Something you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good. Cause if it's not, it's going to be the last thing you ever say. What's it gonna be?

“How did you know about that?” He whispered. 

“JJ asked Garcia to go through the footage, apparently she wanted to make sure no one could ever access the audio from it.”

"Y/n I--" Spencer closed his eyes, his jaw set. He didn’t even know what to say at this point. You had both clearly made up your minds about this, yet neither of you wanted to see the carnage, the outcome of it all. So, instead, you chose to stand in the middle of the bullpen, fighting against one another.

Fighting for one another.

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about this."

“Spencer–you didn’t even tell me about it, I had to find out about it from Penelope, and who knows who else she told. You were afraid to tell me, yet that giant genius brain of yours can’t, oh I don't know, comprehend just a teeny tiny little bit why this makes me upset?" For the millionth time this evening, you scoffed. 

Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.

"Y/n--"

Spence, I've always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and now things are really just too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.

"Fuck Spencer I have been in love with you since I first fucking joined this team." You gasped out. The air around your head got thinner and felt dizzying like you were floating through the air now that this was off your chest. "And I loved you when you asked me on a date. I loved you through Emily's death. I loved you when you asked me to move in with you. I loved you through when Morgan left the team. I loved you through Hotch leaving. I loved you through fucking Cat Adams. I loved you even after I came home one night and you were making out with her against our fucking door. I loved you through every single case and every single flaw. I loved you when you fucking relapsed a few years ago. I even loved you when you went MIA for weeks and then found out you were in a fucking Prison. And I still fucking love you now. But, instead of being together, you asked for a break."

"That's not fair..." He whispered.

"What? Respecting you and your boundaries? Knowing that you needed time to readjust after you had been released, and believing in your promise that once you felt ready to try a relationship again you'd come to me and talk to me about it? And then watching as you fall for JJ all fucking over again? With your stupid fucking glances. This isn't a goddamn tv show Reid, I can see when you both stare at one another across the room, I can see it."

"We don't.."

"You do. You both do. And then, you tell me that Jennifer fucking Jareau is willing to make her last words the fact that she has always loved you and has always been in love with you, and you---" Your voice froze, the sound cutting out. You looked straight at Spencer, not caring about the tears running down your cheeks. You watched as his hand twitched up. When the two of you were dating, Spencer used to wipe away every single of your tears. But now he wouldn't even lift his hand.

"I--what."

You took another breath, trying to calm down, and really think through your words. "This woman who has been your best friend for over a decade just fucking confessed her love for you, in a life-or-death situation, and you're telling me, that she just fucking made it up, pulled it out of her ass, or at least is telling you that she did and now the two of you are going to act like everything is normal and okay?"

"Y/n..."

"You were in love with her for years Spencer. And now, all of a sudden she confesses her love to you, and that changes nothing?"

"No, Y/n, it doesn't. It changes nothing. Does it hurt a bit? Yes. Does it change the fact that I love you? No." Spencer was trying to keep his voice level, hoping you'll continue to match his volume since he didn't want anyone to potentially stumble by and hear your argument. His hand reached for your wrist, but you couldn't bear to feel his skin against yours.

This caused you to let out a water laugh, tears sliding into your mouth, ugly but pouring down your cheeks. A waterfall of grief in all of its rawest forms.

"You still love me."

"Why-Why is that funny."

"I have been waiting to hear those words since you walked out of that fucking prison and the first time I hear it in years, it's because you're trying to justify loving someone else."

"That's not true."

Make it a million and one, you scoffed.

"I have loved you since the moment you first walked through those doors. You were in a pale blue pair of pants, and a black sweater--I remember it because Emily complimented the pants. I spend my whole life loving you and manage to never fully give you every single piece of love I have because there's simply not enough time in the world. I would kill for you. I would go to prison all over again if it meant you would be okay in this world." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his voice strained. But his eyes never left yours. "Last week, when that unsub had his gun against your head, I fired before he even spoke, not because I assessed it was the right time or whatever fucking excuse I gave to Emily. I fired that bullet because if you died in front of me, I'd......The only thing I was thinking about the entire fucking time JJ and I were stuck in that room was how the fuck I was going to be able to tell you I love you one last time because I wasn't fucking smart enough to take my chance and say it to you every single day."

Your chest was heaving, but you didn't move towards him. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel real.

Spencer was able to take your hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, trying to get you to look at him. "I should have told you the moment I was ready to try a relationship again, but I thought you...I thought you had moved on because I wasn't worth waiting for."

This caused you to laugh again, eyes red from crying. "Don't fucking start with that shit Spencer.''

"I'm telling the god's honest truth."

"I waited for you throughout all of Prison. I waited for you through Maeve. I am still pathetically standing right fucking in front of you, waiting for you to hopefully realize that you still love me."

He kissed your hand. "And I don't deserve you at all for it."

"Do you still love her?"

"Y/n."

"Answer the question, Spencer. Or I'm done. I-I can't do this any longer, watching you....the way she looks at you just--"

Spencer pulled you into his arms, enclosing your body in his arms and kissing the side of your head. "I have always, and will always, love you Y/n Y/l/n. And I want to spend the rest of our lives proving to you that I would choose you, I want you, over and over again."

“That’s not an answer Spencer.” You whispered, rigid in his arms.

“I-I.” He closed his eyes. “I did. And I still do love her, but not like that. I haven’t been i-in love with her since the moment you walked through those doors.”

Spencer felt the weight of your head against his shoulder as you finally conceded and hugged him back, tightly. “Let's go home.” He muttered into your head, waiting patiently for you to hum in agreement. 

Neither of you moved though. You both stood there, locked eternally in the other’s embrace, enjoying the peace you felt for the moment, even though tomorrow was a new day, where you would have to sort through how you really felt about all of this. 

But tonight, you stood with your arms around your love, forever.

[flawless-peach]

change your life ✨️

feel free to join me in this. I'm going to try to post every day about how I did <3

- get at least 7 consecutive hours of sleep. I've found if I go to sleep and then wake up back for a couple hours and then finish the 8 hours I feel I incredibly unrested. I keep myself accountable by using pokemon sleep which has a great alarm, so I'm looking forward to trying this instead

- read or listen to an audiobook for 30 minutes. literacy is a muscle, and using it is important, but sometimes I can't just sit down and read a book, and audiobooks are great for when I'm cleaning or cooking or folding laundry

- get sun daily. humans are a lot more like plants than you would think and so it is important to get some sun, even when it's a wintery sun that's cold or when it's a blazing furnace. Since I have some mental health issues and am unable to go outside im going to at least open my curtains, and if possible, crack a window to get some fresh air

- start a hobby you can enjoy. this one can be difficult because a lot of things require some sort of financial investment. for me, my hobbies for these six months is going to be writing and annotating books. but being creative is great for the human mind.

- learn to be comfortable alone. honestly this one will be difficult. personally, I live in a studio. privacy is nothing i experience, butthe little moments where you find yourself escaping with TV playing or music pause it and sit with yourself, how else can you learn to love someone if you avoid them 🥰

- meditate daily. this will be something I struggle with so much, but I'm going to try in the mornings since that's my peak time <3 and that's when I plan on doing a yoga flow during the sunrise

- eat healthy nutritious food. I hate cooking and I hate eating. having autism can make these really difficult for me to do, but I'm really really trying. I started the week before last to work on figuring out what snack foods I can prep, and now i just need to work on planning out some meals.

- positive affirmations everyday. I really struggle to have positive self talk because it feels so awkward and uncomfortable because I've been pessimistic for so long, but I want to change that ^^

- reduce screen time. this is going to be specifically targetting mindless scrolling for me. I have a tiktok account that I use for motivation, same with my tumblr account, and I also read on my phone and use my sleep app that I need to keep open at night.

- practice gratitude. my goal is to at night reflect on the day to try and find the good. I already reflect on my days and pick a mood, but I want to create lists of things i am grateful for, especially while I'm in between jobs.

[gothwineaunts]

I tried my best to replicate the post that Tumblr ate earlier.

It’s not as good but you'll get the jist I think. :’)  

---

Hi again! I wanted to follow up on my post from yesterday. I’ve been mostly offline since then, and I feel much better now, especially after seeing the thoughtful responses y’all left. Where did you all even come from!? I don’t think I’ve ever posted this account anywhere, haha. But thank you so much. I’m horrendous at taking a damn compliment but I read all the replies and reblogs and I’m just incredibly humbled. You all brought up my mood a lot and highkey made me feel sane again. I’ve been so confused at why everyone in the WEBTOON comments seems to be so mad all the time, it kind of does my head in if I’m being honest.

But please don’t worry about me or Flynn. Or about Nevermore! We’d never change the story to fit what we think the commenters want us to do, for a lot of reasons. The most important of which is. If we had to do that, I think we’d rather just stop making it. What they seem to want is a story we’re not really interested in telling.

Wholesome wlw is a wildly important thing to be able to find if you’re looking for it. That really cannot be overstated. Until very recently, queer characters have been subjected by popular media to a disproportionate amount of anguish and violence. So the concept of seeing two women just, living a safe and fulfilling life together? I get why people want to see that so badly. And there’s so much beautifully written aspirational content for queer audiences out there now, and I’m pleased to death over it. But the thing is, it’s just not what we’re making.

Nevermore was always intended to be a dark gothicky romance with horror elements. Like Wuthering Heights, or Phantom of the Opera. Because those were the stories that always inspired us when we were young. Bloodsoaked stories of melodrama, intrigue, grief, and passion. Those stories would captivate me and get me asking all kinds of questions. Why can’t the Phantom be a beautiful woman? Why does Christine have the agency of a desk lamp? Why can’t sapphics have something cool like this?

So we decided to make it. Nevermore is not a wholesome romance. It doesn’t try to be. The point was never to explore sapphics having a healthy and (heavy air quotes here) “normal” relationship, like heterosexual couples get to have in real life. We already have that, together, Flynn and I. We live it, everyday.  In Nevermore, what we wanted most was to explore a sweeping sapphic romance full of danger, like heterosexual couples get to have in fiction. That’s why we love those kinds of stories so much, because of how divorced they are from the mundanity of real life. They’re fantasies.

I know that I'm preaching to the choir, aha.

But my point is: if you go to a hardware store to order a cake, you’re probably going to be disappointed. If what you crave is aspirational wlw content, there are so many bakeries you can go to that will give you exactly what you’re hoping for, and more. I especially recommend Muted by Miranda Mundt. It’s also on Webtoon, it’s completed, and it’s free to read.

And please know that I’m not saying to stop reading Nevermore, just maybe to adjust your expectations a little bit. We don’t sell cakes here, but I am pretty sure I've got a few 12ft tall skeleton lawn ornaments in the back if you're interested.

[ballroamblitz]

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed. 

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically. 

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me! 

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along. 

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair. 

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings! 

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing. 

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie? 

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation. 

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath. 

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya. 

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom. 

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind. 

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N. 

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession. 

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered,  messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like? 

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do. 

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest. 

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face. 

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.  

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share. 

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things. 

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most.  Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned. 

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon. 

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach  - Ate too much pudding? 

- Yeah, probably. 

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils. 

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly. 

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly. 

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone. 

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.  

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental... 

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams 

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater. 

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James. 

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right? 

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy. 

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i? 

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that. 

James felt his face getting warm and red. 

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question? 

      - Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love. 

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought. 

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken. 

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions. 

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces. 

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. 

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me. 

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically. 

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. -  Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms. 

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago. 

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week! 

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself? 

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge. 

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry. 

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared. 

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me? 

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could. 

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher. 

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her.. 

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather. 

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle  - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his. 

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love.  Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.