#if adam's not a part of it it doesn't count

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 6

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 6 🔞

Word Count: 6110

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Just a little heads up for the first scene 🔞 the rest is SFW! Also, doesn't it feel right for Doffy to slip in a few words of Spanish every now and then? I'm sure I've seen people do that in x reader fics (it's not new!) and maybe that's why it feels right...

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 5|

-*- Start of 🔞 -*-

Law closes the door to the bathroom and locks it. Now that he's alone he lets himself lose a sliver of his control. He slumps against it softly and closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips. 

He went too far. 

He didn't mean to make you come, he just wanted to tease you. But your face, your whimpers, your heat… it was all too much for him to handle. He needed to feel you close, to have you wrapped around him and holding him like a vise. He gave in. He shouldn't have. 

He kicks his sneakers away and unbuttons his jeans with a soft groan, finally freeing his bulging cock. He got rock hard as soon as he started to touch you. He can usually prolong the teasing as far as he wants without getting this turned on himself. 

But your whimpers… the way you gave up and begged, your willingness to let him do what he wants to you. It's all too much and yet, he is well aware that it will never be enough. He got a taste and now he’s obsessed. 

Turning the shower on cold and removing the rest of his clothes, he hisses as soon as the water hits his back. He needs to regain his control. He shouldn't have gone this far, he'll have to apologise to you. 

But for now, not even the icy water can take away the sound of your mewls in his ears, the way your lips part willingly for him and the way your flesh moulds easily in his hands. 

“Fuck!” He curses softly as he punches the wall of the shower in frustration. Closing his eyes, his hand finds his cock throbbing and he palms it. A gentle squeeze and then a rougher one. He imagines you on your knees, willingly opening your mouth for him, your small, warm hands grabbing his length and licking it from top to bottom, your sweet eyes holding his gaze. 

“Yes, sweetheart, good girl.” He mumbles against his teeth as his hand bobs up and down. He won't need much stimulation. He'll unravel just as easily as you did earlier. The tension between both of you is so thick that it's crushing. 

He groans and tenses, he's so close. 

He wasn't lying about your love story. Maybe it's not love yet, but it's something he hasn't felt in a while. You're special, you make him happy. 

His hips thrust forward, faster against his hand as he pumps himself in a maddening rhythm. He's now picturing you squirming beneath him, your lips chanting his name in abandon, your whole body clenching his. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It's not just attraction and want. 

He comes with a muffled grunt, his viscous seed spilling against his stomach, his hand and dripping down the drain of the shower. His breaths are uneven and the ice-cold water does nothing to break this heat. 

It's not just attraction and want. It's so much more. 

-*- End of 🔞 -*-

You sit on the armchair as soon as Law enters the bathroom. Your heart is still beating out of sync, you're still breathless and a haze fills your brain. 

How did he make you come undone so easily? He didn’t even need to properly touch you. What kind of spell does he have on you?

As you get up, trying to shake away all the lingering feelings of his touch and lips on your body, you remember how he couldn’t even look into your eyes afterwards. You shouldn’t have let go so easily. Maybe he wanted you to last longer. You didn’t discuss orgasms in your boundaries, but, as you ruled out sex, you didn’t realise that it might happen with just teasing. 

You can’t help but think that you’ve, somehow, crossed some kind of unspoken barrier. You’ll need to apologise to him. 

And you both might need to make your boundaries clearer. 

It’s not that you mind what happened. You don’t regret it and you wouldn’t mind at all if it happened again. But if he’s not comfortable with it, it needs to be spoken about. 

Sighing heavily, you stare at your clothes, about to choose something to wear to dinner, but you don’t know what to wear. Is it formal? Casual? Are jeans too casual but a cocktail dress too formal?

You’re about to sit back down again, your tablet already open on your trusted spreadsheet to distract you, while you wait for Law to come out of the bathroom so he can tell you what clothes would be appropriate, when the door opens. 

He has a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and still dripping against his tattooed torso and you have to swallow hard before you start to drool. His eyes meet yours for a brief second and you can already tell how much collected he is since your earlier interaction.

“I didn’t grab any clothes before hitting the shower.” He says, to justify his state of undress.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering what I was supposed to wear. Is dinner formal? Casual?” Your voice is still altered and on edge, too high-pitched to be your normal tone and you’re sure he picks up on it.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he opens his bag to fish out some clothes. “Dinner in this household is always a formal event. Though you are fine with semi-formal clothes.” Immediately your eyes rake the closet for what dresses you packed. There are some that fit the description so you should be fine.

“I shouldn’t have gone too far. It wasn’t my intention.” Your head whips back at him. He’s scratching the back of his neck - still undressed - and has a conflicted expression on his face. Though he can hold your gaze now. 

A nervous smile tugs at your lips as you turn and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. It was my fault I… I got too caught up in the moment and-...”

“You don’t have to apologise for feeling pleasure.” His voice drags and envelops you. There’s a sense of safety in his words, a lack of judgement for any and all of your actions. Suddenly it hits you:

As controlling as he tends to be in these intimate settings - domineering even - he makes you feel free. You can be yourself. You can be whatever you need to be and he’ll accept you with open arms. For who you are.

And that is very new, uncharted territory.

Because with Ichiji you were always trying to be someone you were not. Faking your happiness, your likes and dislikes, just faking!

With Law…

It’s simple. So, so simple. 

And this realisation makes your breath hitch, leaving you speechless and winded. Even from where you’re standing, you can see the way Law’s jaw clenches and ticks as he takes in your reaction with calculated measures. 

“I won’t do it again. We never have to go that far again, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Is that regret or sadness in his voice?

You shake your head with vigour. He’s got it all wrong. Yet you don’t trust yourself enough to open your mouth at this moment. Your throat is tight with tension. It has been some time since you have felt validated and actually heard. It’s silly, heck, it’s silly as hell, but the simplest things are the ones that trigger you the most. 

Law approaches you tentatively, he can probably sense something is wrong but the all-too familiar crease wrinkling his brows tells you he thinks he’s the cause of this tension. And he is, but for all the right reasons. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, taking a step back even before fully reaching you. 

“No.” You finally find your voice, though it’s still trembling and weak. “I’m not hurt, or ashamed, or angry, or anything like that!” You let your eyes meet his, a blush on your cheeks and a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It just hit me that I can be exactly who I am with you. And that’s okay. I don’t need to pretend anymore.” Then you chuckle, a snort following your outburst. “I mean, we are pretending, but between you and me… I… well, I can’t quite explain it, but it’s good. I’m feeling good! Because of you.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is soft and full of relief. 

“I don’t need to understand completely. As long as I didn’t make you uncomfortable. As long as you’re happy.”

You nod with another smile and he returns to his hunt for clothes while maintaining a close eye on you. 

“Law.” You whisper, not looking at him while you too select the clothes you’re going to wear before heading towards the bathroom. “You said you wouldn’t do it again but… I…” He’s silent. He’s going to make you say it.

Somehow you know he’ll always make you say what you want, express your desires and needs. He wants to hear you. 

Wait, always? That’s too long…

“I won’t mind if you… do it again. Nothing’s changed. No boundaries were added. At least on my part.” You briefly look at him. He’s wearing a smug smirk on his lips, just a raised corner of his mouth as his amber gaze pierces you. “Do you-...” 

“No boundaries added.” He interrupts you and you nod. Already that familiar heat is starting to pool in your belly again. All the possibilities are still open. 

And you’re willing to take them with open arms.

-*-

The air between you has cleared and everything is back to normal. You're both showered and dressed and ready to go mingle with family and close friends. There's still a bit of time before you're expected downstairs so you're sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed, with the tablet open in front of you, your notebook on the side and you're chewing on the end of your pen, mouthing facts and curiosities about Law in order to memorise them. 

Law has been sitting in the armchair across from you for about ten minutes. His chin resting against his knuckles and eyes fixed on you, watching your every move. 

“Are you nearly done?” His voice chimes with amusement. 

“Not even close.” You mumble and sigh, opening your arms and falling back to face the ceiling. “I'm so nervous. I'm so doomed. Law, I don't want to fail you.” You drape your arm over your eyes for dramatic effect. 

Your whine is both desperate and frustrated. You think you're ready for all the personal questions anyone sends your way, and even if there's something amiss, you've only been ‘dating’ for two months! It's completely believable. 

However, before you can rally and say you're prepared, you feel pressure on your ankles and Law pulls you towards the edge of the bed, dragging you close to him. Leaning on his arms, which he places on each side of your head, he stares at your eyes deadpan. 

“You're ready. You've got this. We've got this.” His gaze doesn't waver and he's hovering very, very close to your face. So you just nod. His presence is too intense for anything other than that. “Use your words, sweetheart. Do you have this?”

“I've got this.” You whisper. 

“Good.”

For a second it almost looks as if he's going to kiss you, but he backs away and a feeling of dread in your stomach makes you wonder if something’s really changed after what happened earlier. The second after, you’re chastising yourself. Nothing’s changed because there’s nothing to change. You’re nothing to each other. Period.

You’re helping him in a tricky family situation and he’s helping you with your over-controlling issues. Nothing else.

“Let's go.”

-*-

You end up choosing a beautiful cocktail dress that is not overly formal but is not as casual as a summer dress and, after fixing your hair and dress again - from having been dragged by Law on top of the bed - he assures you that you look stunning and you both leave the room. 

Law's dressed in black jeans, a white dress shirt - half open to show off his tattoos - and a blazer. You sigh. You can't get enough of his sexiness. 

He extends his hand for you to take and you can't help a small smile from curling your lips. This does feel like a real relationship, so you need to keep reminding yourself that it's all fake. You can't fall in love with Law over a fake relationship. 

Wait, fall in love? Where did that come from? 

Law leads you through corridors and halls and, slowly, his demeanour becomes charged again. The usual scowl in place, the familiar creasing in his forehead. It's like he's a different person around his uncle, so much more guarded. So much more unattainable. When you reach the stairs to descend to the hall where all the guests are mingling before heading towards the dining room, Law lets go of your hand and places it on your lower back instead. 

“It's showtime.” He mutters softly as you begin descending. You can feel all the eyes turning towards you, it seems like everyone is already gathered downstairs. 

Baby 5 is the first to approach you, a big smile on her face as she drags a taller man with an annoyed expression on his face towards you. “Cousin Law! I've missed you!” She tries to hug him but Law grunts and refuses, making you chuckle. “This is Sai! My husband-to-be! Isn't he handsome?” She says dreamily. Sai doesn't seem too thrilled to be here at all, but when their eyes meet, you can see how his gaze softens. There might be love under all that gruffness after all.  

Law clasps the man's hand and shakes it, then introduces you to them. 

“Hello, it's very nice to meet you, and congratulations on your nuptials.” You say with a smile. “You make the most wonderful couple.”

Baby 5 is delighted with you. “Oh, Law! She's wonderful!” When Law looks at you to confirm her words, you somehow find his eyes softening as well, but he's interrupted before he can say anything. 

“Trafalgar, it's been a while since I've seen you.” A blonde man with prominent scars on his face and a wide grin approaches. He speaks to Law but his eyes linger on you. “Baby 5 is right, your friend is wonderful.”

Law's scowl becomes more pronounced, his hold on your back tightens and he pulls you closer. “It's girlfriend, Bellamy.”

Bellamy chuckles and raises his hands in apology before you and Law move on to greet other guests. There are some board members Law said would be present and they're an odd bunch - Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Vergo are their names. The bridesmaid, Sugar, looks really young but Law tells you she's just two years younger than Baby 5. A groomsman, Buffalo and, of course, Doffy and Cora. The bride says that the rest of the wedding party will only arrive tomorrow so it's quite an intimate affair. 

To you, it is anything but intimate. It's intimidating. Doflamingo keeps watching you and Law like a hawk, waiting for some kind of slip-up; his associates are already trying to whisk Law away, though he manages to postpone business talk until after dinner; and Bellamy keeps leering at you. 

When Cora cheerfully announces that it's time to head to dinner, you close your eyes briefly and take a deep shaky breath. Law notices your discomfort and lingers behind, letting the guests enter the dining room ahead of you. 

Then, he turns you towards him, his fingers grazing your ear and then your earring, trailing down your neck as you sigh. The signal. “If this were real,” he whispers near your ear so only you can hear, “you wouldn't have to feel nervous. You'd know I would be there at your side every step of the way. You'd count on me.”

Law's eyes bore into yours as his hands cup your cheeks in an intimate gesture. It’s so comforting that you have to keep repeating in your head that this is all fake and that he just used the signal! Then, you nod in acknowledgment of his words. “I do, Law. I count on you. I trust you.” You don't need to use the signal for your words, they're not fake, they're the absolute truth. You spy Doflamingo watching you from the doorway and Law must have seen him too, because he leans forward and gives you a small peck on the cheek. The small smile on your lips that follows his gesture is also something that is completely true. 

Law clasps your hand in his to lead you to the dining room but Doflamingo still looms on the threshold, observing both of you closely, his arms crossed over his chest and a huge grin on his face. “Law, princesa. I hope you had an agreeable rest, earlier.” 

You blush at his words. It's almost as if he knows something happened between you, but he can't know, right? It's just a silly guess. “Yes, Uncle, very agreeable. The car ride was quite tiring.” Law pulls you but Doflamingo steps forward, cutting your path and staring directly into your eyes. 

“And you, cariño?” A shiver runs down your spine as you face the intensity of his stare and your heart rate accelerates dramatically.  

“Yes, sir. Very agreeable, thank you.” You can't help but notice how small and meek your voice sounds under his scrutiny. Doflamingo really is someone who demands respect. 

“Hmm…” He starts, holding a hand against his chest, and then whispers. “Careful, you're making me like you. You're really something.” Without taking his eyes off yours, he addresses Law. “You better keep a good hold on this one, Law. I might steal her too.”

Law growls, his calm facade showing a few cracks before he pulls you inside so you can find your seats. There’s no chance to ask him what his uncle meant now, the room is too crowded, and there’s no telling who could be listening.

But what could he mean about stealing you too? What happened? With whom? It feels like this is something you should be privy to, especially because Doflamingo keeps hinting at something. You make a mental note not to forget to address this with Law once both of you are alone. 

The dining room is, like everything else in this house, grand and opulent, screaming wealth and fortune. Enormous chandeliers hang from the ceiling, shadowing the massive table. Beautiful china adorns it, along with vases of flowers and the most stunning silverware. It’s all so beautiful.

Law finds your seats and holds the chair for you, helping you get comfortable. He’s by your side, Sugar on your other side and Bellamy directly in front of Law. Cora sits at one end of the table, next to Law, and Doflamingo is on the other end, carefully watching every exchange with his observant gaze. 

Bellamy keeps stealing glances at you and Law’s scowl deepens even more. His hand rests on your thigh under the table, and even though no one can see it, it’s a definitive claim to you. He’s acting possessive, and it stirs something within you.

Is it all fake? 

The meal begins and everything seems to be flowing smoothly now. Baby 5 is a regular chatterbox and, being at Bellamy’s side, she alone holds the entire conversation for the majority of dinner. Every now and then, she asks you something or other about your relationship, nothing of much importance and all things you and Law have already rehearsed.

You feel a sense of peace and calmness washing away your earlier anxiety. It seems as if you were dreading this dinner for nothing. If the rest of the weekend goes as smoothly as this meal, you’ll both be perfectly fine. 

But the wine has been flowing freely. You and Law have been restrained and switched to water long ago. Neither of you wants to get drunk and ruin the pretence, but the other guests are more at ease. And that fact is quite clear when Bellamy decides to stare directly at you. His gaze unmoving and his grin wide.

You begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair, wishing for this dinner to end so you can all get up, but dessert is still being served so it will be another half-hour, at least.

Law senses your discomfort and leans into your ear, you lean towards him as well and when he speaks, his whisper tickles your ear and sends shivers down your spine. “Relax. I’ll put him in his place.” His hand reaches up as he caresses your ear and earring using your signal. “You’re mine, and I’ll let him know soon enough that I don’t share.”

The word ‘mine’ sends a different kind of shiver up your spine. One that lingers. One that burns. It travels through your veins like molten lava and settles low in your core, a thrum beating at the same unholy rhythm as your heart. 

You can only nod as Law pulls back.

Another moment passes as you receive your dessert and engage in a bit of girl talk with Sugar and Baby 5 about wedding dresses, but you can still feel the burning, lingering gaze of Bellamy upon you. It’s disconcerting.

Law places his hand on your thigh again, making sure Bellamy sees the gesture, before facing him with a sly smirk. “Bellamy,” his tone is casual, though thick with tension. “Is there something you would like to say to my girlfriend? You keep staring. It’s rude.”

The chatter around you silences as people close to you follow the exchange. Bellamy’s grin falters a bit as he shifts and adjusts his seat in the chair. He wasn’t expecting Law’s confrontational question. 

“I just like to look at pretty things, Law. Didn’t know it was a crime.” He leans back, hands in the air, to excuse his behaviour. 

Law’s smirk never falters, his touch is unwavering. His tone, however, speaks of annoyance and defiance. “Oh, I know she’s pretty. More than that, she’s stunning. But it’s not just about looking, is it, Bellamy? It’s about intent. And yours seems very, very misplaced.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you see, from the corner of your eye, Doflamingo watching you attentively, though the rest of the table on his side is pretty oblivious to what is happening around you. 

“Come on, man, relax. Drink some more wine. Looking doesn’t do any harm.” Bellamy lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It does when you’re looking at something that doesn't belong to you. You should learn to keep your gaze away from what is mine.” He nearly growls the word.

That word again. Your breath hitches and you bite your lower lip. You can’t help but feel safe and protected near Law. A bright flush spreads through your cheeks and you take a sip of water to try and calm yourself. Law’s hand on your leg squeezes and you take a deep breath. 

Yet the fire in you burns hotter.

“Alright, alright. Geez, man, I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Bellamy adds, though his smug grin says otherwise.

“Good. We’re clear then.” Law’s gaze is unwavering and he doesn’t stop piercing his amber eyes into Bellamy’s until the blonde looks somewhere else. 

You can’t help but hear Law’s voice saying ‘mine’ over and over again in your head, just like a song on repeat. 

-*-

Finally dinner comes to an end, but it’s still far too early in the night to retire and you are all ushered by a smiling Cora to a lounge with a bar where you can have a few more drinks and let conversation flow.

After all, some guests are having fun.

Law leads you with a firm hand on your lower back, but you can feel some strain in his countenance, and you quickly understand why when one of Doflamingo’s associates beckons him over to a table. 

Law groans, facing you. “I need to take care of some business with those oafs over there.” Then he sighs as he uses the signal on your earring again. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, a very chaste kiss to share in public. A kiss that doesn’t fail to send tingles all over your skin and burn in more places than it should. Law whispers: “If this were real, you wouldn’t need to worry if I were away from you. I’d be imprinted so hard on your body, mind and soul, that you wouldn’t even miss me.”

His words never fail to make you shiver. The intensity with which he delivers them is so powerful that, for a brief moment, you’re fooled into thinking he actually means it. Just a brief moment, though. “I’ll be alright. We’re in the same room. What can happen that is so terrible?”

Law’s scowl is back in an instant and his gaze flickers towards Doflamingo. “Much can happen. But I won’t allow it.” Another peck and he turns his back on you to meet with the men who have already called him again.

You sigh, locate Bellamy, still gazing at you, and decide to go to the complete opposite side of the room. Luckily Baby 5 and Sugar gather near you and you manage to distract yourself with the girls. Time goes by rather fast, in contrast to what happened during dinner and in the blink of an eye, Law is back by your side. But he's still sporting that tense scowl. 

“I just came to check on you.” Baby 5 and Sugar are listening so he keeps the pretence, however, he doesn’t use the signal. “Wouldn't want you to think I've abandoned you.” 

Your smile is genuine as you grab his hands. “It's alright, Law. I'm in good hands.” He squeezes and the way he's looking at you makes something flutter in your stomach. 

You are suddenly reminded that you both discussed physical boundaries, but never emotional ones. Should you? Because this soft look he's giving you could be far more dangerous to your heart than a heated touch. 

“You guys are so cute. I wish I could just turn you into plushies and have you on my bed.” Sugar says, her eyes sparkling with emotion. 

Well that certainly cuts the emotional tension in the bud. Law rolls his eyes and you chuckle. “I'm just going to get a drink and go back there. It won't be long now, they're discussing a new merger and want to make sure everyone on the board approves.”

You sigh, your lower lip inadvertently pouting a bit. Why must he talk business at a family meeting? 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your lip. “That's cute.” He murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “See you soon.” His hand lingers on your lip before releasing with another longing sigh from you. 

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom and when you return, Baby 5 and Sugar are nowhere to be seen. They must have had some last minute wedding stuff to attend to, but now you feel oddly out of place. Law doesn't acknowledge your entry, too entangled in a heated conversation with Vergo, his expression very guarded. Something must not be going very well with the discussions. You're thirsty, so you swing by the bar - complete with a bartender - and ask for a virgin mojito, while leaning slightly on the counter to stretch your back. 

“Lovely accent, mi querida.” Doflamingo’s drawl makes your breath hitch and you turn towards his voice, a deer-in-headlights expression on your face. You look for Law, but his uncle is standing right in your line of sight and he's so big that you doubt Law knows you're there. He probably still thinks you're in the bathroom. 

“Thank you, sir.” You whisper to him, accepting the drink from the bartender with a strained smile and taking a step back. 

His grin widens, turning wicked and you take a sip of the cold drink to distract yourself from his sharp, piercing gaze. Doflamingo accepts his glass of red wine without a ‘thank you’ or any sort of acknowledgment to the bartender, his eyes never leaving you. 

“You're interesting.” He states once again. “Makes me wonder why you're in a relationship with my nephew.” His tone is inquisitive. He's probing, you have to sell this, you're prepared. You just need to forget how extremely intimidating he is. 

“I'm in a relationship with Law because we fell in love, sir. It's as simple as that.” You say, like it's the most obvious statement in the world. Then you set down your drink and grasp the counter to stop the shaking of your hands. 

He tuts and sighs dramatically. “Nothing regarding love is ever just simple.” Then he takes another step, further invading your space. “Is it?”

You stand your ground, trying not to feel intimidated. “With us it is. We want to be together. I want to be with Law.” Why are you being so defensive? Is he going to read through your act? You desperately want Law to see you, to come to you. Maybe even Cora? But Cora was also engaged in that discussion and, thinking about it, shouldn't the head of Donquixote Enterprises also be there? Why was he taunting you instead? 

“You don't know what you want yet, princesa. Trust me.” He says. His grin widens and he leans his head forward, whispering in your ear. “Law is too soft for you. His words are too gentle, his touch is too sweet.” Doffy’s breath feels hot in your ear and you want so desperately to pull back, but you don’t want to give him that advantage over you. “Law doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. I saw how you behaved when he was acting possessive at the table. I understand you, I know what you want. And you need more than he can offer.”

Somehow his voice drops even lower, a predatory whisper that manages to bristle all the hairs on your body. “I can make you feel what it’s like to be completely owned. You’d learn quickly where you belong.” His whisper burns your skin, but the shivers running through you are as cold as ice. “Under me, or on your knees, I would bend your will with just one look. I know what you crave.”

He’s challenging you, pushing you to your limits with crass words and rude behaviour. Law told you he was inappropriate but, somehow, you didn’t expect this much. It’s terrifying, even.  

“You don’t know me.” The murmur that leaves your lips is barely heard, your voice trembles and your lip shakes, but you don’t want to be disrespectful, so you add something: “Sir.” 

His hand reaches out, and he tucks a strand of hair out of your face as he hums in satisfaction. “But I know your kind, cariño. You’re all after power. I can give you that.” You try to pull back, to step away from him and his velvety words, but he grabs your forearm, his touch commanding and domineering, making your breath hitch in your throat. “If I were with you, mi querida, I wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over the nearest surface and remind you of who you belong to. I know that’s what you most desire, to be brought to your knees with a simple look. Not to be coddled by my nephew.”

You purse your lips to suppress a gasp as his fingers dig into your skin, his grin widening into a manic smile. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to fight for air, or to find the right words. You can barely think, he scares you. He pushes you and bends you and you just don’t want to break under pressure.

You don’t have time, however, to think of a good answer because you feel a pull at your waist as a familiar safe sensation invades you and you can breathe again. “Is there something I can help you with, Uncle Doffy?”

Law’s voice is low and calm. His usually controlled demeanour takes over, however, the crease in his forehead is deep and pronounced and there’s a lingering rage underneath the surface. Doflamingo releases your arm and you wince, slipping closer to Law, moulding to the side of his body easily. 

“Not at all, Law. I was just getting acquainted with your lovely novia. There’s no need to be so possessive, is there?” He smirks as he leans back, taking a casual sip of his drink while his eyes still linger over you. 

Law’s jaw clenches and he lets out a low growl, but Doflamingo continues. 

“It’s funny,” he chuckles long and low, “it reminds me of a different time, long ago. Remember, Law? Back when you thought loyalty and love were something you could not buy?”

You’re not quite sure where Doflamingo is going with his speech, but Law’s hold on you tightens and he pulls you even closer. “That’s not important tonight, Doffy.”

“But I think it is, Law. You see, I thought I had taught you better than this. Yet it seems as if you haven’t learned. You keep seeking women who need more than you can offer. Something your soft words cannot provide. Must I teach you again what power does a firmer hand and money hold? How easy it is to make someone… change allegiances?” His eyes are menacing as he alternates between you and Law. 

You’re still very lost as to what they are referring to, yet he is getting under Law’s skin. You’ve never seen Law this discomposed. He’s almost baring his teeth at his uncle, his eyes darkening as his fingers dig deep into your waist, they will certainly bruise. 

“That’s enough, Uncle.”

“Women who seek a little power are all the same, Law.” Doflamingo’s smirk drops and he straightens up, his figure imposing as he stares at Law. “You once thought love was all it took, but all I had to do was wave a few bills. Let’s see just how long this one holds, I’m actually very interested in the challenge.” 

He speaks as if you’re not there. It’s a personal agenda he and Law have and you can almost see the tension building around them. For a sliver of a moment, Law’s mask of perfect control slips and a soft vulnerability rattles him, like he’s considering his uncle’s words. 

“Every woman has a price, Law. Whether it’s monetary, or just power and influence. I have it all.”

The way Law pulls you to him makes you wince, but you don’t pull back, it’s like they barely know you’re there. 

“Don’t compare them, Doffy.” He says your name through gritted teeth. “She and Monet are not the same.”

Monet? Who is she? Law didn’t tell you about her, though from what you can grasp of the conversation, it seems as if she was someone Law loved. And Doffy lured her away. 

How twisted.

Doflamingo leans in, his face inches away from Law’s, but he doesn’t flinch. “You know something I’ve learned, Law, is that the more I rattle you, and the more paranoid and possessive you get… the easier it becomes to steal your toys.” The manic grin on Doflamingo’s face widens before he finally falls back. He finishes his wine glass and decides to call an end to this taunting session. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Law is left staring at the spot where his uncle just stood. His face is a mix of emotions, something you’ve never witnessed before. He’s beyond rattled, he’s on the verge of losing the control he normally possesses. 

He’s still gripping you tight and it’s beginning to be unbearable, so you place your hand on his chest, trying to get him to look at you. “Law?” He doesn’t respond immediately, his throat bobbing up and down, clearly trying to regain control of his emotions. “Law you’re hurting me.” You say softly and that makes him come back.

“Sorry!” He releases you in haste, the hand that was holding you tousling his hair as he lets out a loud sigh. Then he clasps your hand in his and pulls you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him blindly. A myriad of questions burning at the back of your mind. Why does Doflamingo rattle him so much? And why is he so adamant about breaking Law? Who was Monet? What did she mean to Law? 

But mostly… is she still important to him?

[workingforitallthetime]

(x)

[aperrywilliams]

That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.

Summary:  You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.

Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)

Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.

A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!

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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.

But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.

He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.

From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.

But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.

You were extremely shy and reserved.

In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'

He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.

But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.

At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.

It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?

If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.

From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.

You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.

'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'

'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'

And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.

And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.

But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.

Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.

In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.

The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.

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

A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.

Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.

All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.

Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.

"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.

"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.

"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.

"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.

"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.

You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.

It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.

"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.

"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.

"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.

That's it—the elephant in the room.

Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...

There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.

Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.

"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.

And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.

But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.

"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.

"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.

"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.

"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.

And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.

Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.

When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.

"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.

That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.

You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.

Emily is who stops everyone's rant.

"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."

And this is how the discussion is settled.

Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.

When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.

"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"

You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.

"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."

"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.

You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.

Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.

"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."

Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.

"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.

Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."

If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.

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

You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.

Everyone has a role in the plan.

Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.

Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.

When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.

"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.

"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"

Your cheeks redens.

"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."

You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.

"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."

"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.

One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.

At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.

For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.

Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.

"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.

The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.

As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.

Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.

Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.

Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.

You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.

Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.

At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.

"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.

"Show time," you mumble to yourself.

You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.

That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.

You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.

Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.

"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.

JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.

"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."

Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.

"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."

You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.

Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.

Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.

Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.

Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.

JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.

As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.

"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.

Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.

There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.

"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.

With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.

He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.

"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.

"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.

Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.

The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.

"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.

You get closer to him to speak in his ear.

"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.

Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.

You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.

"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.

You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.

It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.

Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.

When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.

As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.

Everything that happens after is too fast.

The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.

But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.

There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.

You shyly approach him.

"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.

"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.

"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.

Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.

Everything except that kiss.

If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.

A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.

You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.

What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.

"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.

"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.

Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?

"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.

A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.

There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.

"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.

"I know," you say with some hesitation.

"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"

Now, you are the one who smirks at him.

"Evidence, huh?"

"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.

"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.

Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.

This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[munsster]

fixer upper

A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON ‘FIXER UPPER’ FROM FROZEN 💀💀💀 does that mean it counts as a song fic…….. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange. 2.8k words

Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting

Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.

That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.

But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.

Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.

Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.

"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.

"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"—Oh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.

"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.

"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.

"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."

"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."

Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.

But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."

You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.

Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.

"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.

"Yeah. No problem."

"No, really"—you wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocket—"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."

"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."

You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."

He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.

"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nails—"

He huffs, "Robin—"

"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"

"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.

"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.

"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."

You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.

The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.

"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.

"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.

"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.

"I'm off at five, so I can just"—stop talking—"take them home after my shift."

"Steve, really, you don't have to—"

El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.

Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."

You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.

"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.

They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.

Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, and—"

"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"

Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."

You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.

"Steven! That's not—that's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.

"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."

"About you!"

"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."

"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"

"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"

Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.

"What do you want?" he says.

"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.

"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.

"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong. 

"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.

Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."

Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."

"Shit."

...

Much to Steve’s surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesn’t need complete details to know he wants to shatter Brad’s jaw with his fist.

But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.

Of course, he’s thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.

Now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadn’t wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.

He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights aren’t blinding, but you aren’t completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesn’t seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.

“Who needs ‘em,” he says in attempt to lighten the mood. “Being single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.”

You’re frowning, but you know he means well. You just can’t help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh, come here,” he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.

You can’t help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.

“God, he was such an asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Uh, duh! Doesn’t take a genius to…” Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.”

You blink up at him in the low light. There’s a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.

He can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows you’re probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.

“Wanna go get shakes? On me,” he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

“I can pay for myself,” you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.

“Nope! Sorry, I don’t let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,” he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.

“I agree, rich boy,” you chuckle, “Reparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.”

He chuckles. He’s absolutely head over heels.

The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.

“Oh, we’re actually… not together,” you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute you’d be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steve’s still reeling when the waitress walks away.

“Funny. We can’t even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,” you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, he’d think you were trying to kill him if you didn’t seem so lighthearted and playful.

“Yeah, pretty funny,” he sighs. And he’s probably being so obvious. Or maybe that’s how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or it’s obvious all of the time.

The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.

“You know,” you murmur between sips, “I always thought you were pretty cute.”

He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.

“Oh. Yeah, I get that a lot,” he huffs, “Mostly from little old ladies, but—Hey!”

You flick him and say, “Really! I know it’s not couth considering… Brad and all, but…”

“You’re being facetious,” Steve accuses.

“No—”

“Sarcastic!”

“Steve—”

“Ironic?”

“Try serious!” you hum, “I’m just saying, you’re very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.”

Steve’s blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.

“What can I say? I’m just,” he huffs, “I’m not really worried about it.”

You tilt your head. “You’re not?”

“Nah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I don’t mind waiting for the right one.”

You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose he’s right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. It’s admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.

“Though, it doesn’t exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,” he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, tell me about it” you lean in, “Just break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.”

“They said that?” Steve’s not dumb, he’s sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.

“Yeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart they’re all full of shit.”

You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He can’t decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He says it but he wants to tell you what he’s feeling. He wants to ask if you’re over Brad. He knows you’re not and that’s okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t want to suffocate you.

He doesn’t know that you wouldn’t mind him asking.

more like this

masterlist

[livinginshambles]

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

___________________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented. 

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

Taglist:

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[fluentmoviequoter]

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

[killerpancakeburger]

PULL ME CLOSER

SUMMARY: After a mission gone wrong, Soap narrowly cheats death. When visiting him in his hospital bed, overwhelming relief emboldens you, making you do something you regret. So you flee, resolved to avoid Sergeant MacTavish until the end of your days. 

But Johnny is done letting you slip through his fingers.

Part 1. Part 2.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (reader has boobs, that's it)

TAGS: A pinch of angst, then tooth rotting fluff, Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Depressed!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, Desperate!Soap, Soft!Soap, mutual pining, first kiss, confessions, dirty talk, making out. Bit of a chase, but it's fluffy. Protective!Ghost bordering on controlling but he works on it. Swears, blood mention, injuries, miilitary inaccuracies, suggestive content.

WORDS COUNT: 5.6k

A/N: aaaAAAH F I N A L L Y! ITS KISSING TIME BABEYYY 💋 For @glitterypirateduck COD Vacation Mode challenge, prompts 32 with Ghost and 58 with Soap.

"Hey author, this is Soap x Reader, why is Ghost there...?" Because he just! Won't! Leave! 🙃 *you can now picture me trying to push him out of the room with all my meager strength but he doesn't budge an inch* 

As you pace around the office for the umpteenth time, you can tell from the glint in Ghost's eyes that he's seconds away from telling you to take a seat and stop writhing uselessly. 

When did you become so accustomed to the taciturn Lieutenant's expressions - or more accurately, lack of -, that you could figure out what was going on behind the mask? You couldn’t remember.

He's been keeping his gaze on you since you've sat down after learning the harrowing news; or, more exactly, since he's sat down and you've been fidgeting relentlessly.

You're feeling like a shark - to stop moving won't kill you, but it will cause the whole world to come crashing down. It will allow reality to become clearer, sharper, inescapable.

The arrival of Price in the room captures his lieutenant's attention before he can scold you. Gaz follows close behind. He offers you a reassuring smile before his captain addresses you.

“He's going to make it.”

Relief overwhelms you with just those five words; a colossal wave close to sending you tumbling down. Ghost's mask fails to hide his own calming.

Price sets his hands on his hips. His voice is gruffed but composed.

“All he needs now is rest… and some blood.”

“I'll do it,” you blurt out resolutely, taking a step towards your boss.

“No,” snarls Ghost, tone adamant.

You snap around to stare at him in shock and disbelief. He never raised his voice at you before. And, most importantly, he never tried to dictate your behavior. 

“Who do you think you are?! I'm not one of your fucking recruits-”

Price loudly coughs in his fist.

“Easy there.” 

He raises both hands in appeasement. “We don’t even know if you're compatible.”

“I'm a universal donor,” you counter immediately, determination unaltered.

“Course ya are,” scoffs Ghost derisively.

You glare at him with open animosity. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

“What is that even supposed to mean!?”

You throw your arms up in irritation.

“Enough! Both of you.”

John's tone extinguishes your shout with redoubtable efficiency. He's already not someone you would dare cross on casual days, but hearing him raise his voice makes you sheepish.

Nonetheless, you turn towards him, outraged and betrayed. "Both"!? Why both!? I'm not the one being an asshole for no reason!

“You've done this before?” the captain asks, looking at you.

You nod vigorously.

He indicates the door with his chin.

“Fine, then. Go see the nurses to set you up.”

You bolt out of the room without further ado, determined to not let Ghost get another word in. But you can still hear one last sentence as you hasten.

“As for you, Simon…It is none of your business.”

Giving blood has never been a walk in the park. Every time, you have to actively handle your nerves; resort to trusty relaxation methods, such as focusing on your breathing, or counting the tiles on the ceiling.

The stab of the needle is unpleasant, to say the least, but the wait between the jab and the removal is almost as challenging.

Nonetheless, you've done this before, you succeeded, and for Johnny, you'd be willing to do it for hours.

Power of will doesn't compensate blood loss however, and when you get up from the bed, you feel dizzy, your bandaged arm sore and stiff. The idea of meeting with Soap shortly helps you power through, and soon enough you’re sitting at a table in the canteen, empty at this hour of the day, stuffing your face with whatever snacks and drinks have been put aside to aid your recovery.

With nothing but concern for Johnny busying your mind, you end up eavesdropping on a couple of nearby cafeteria employees.

“You think that's really him?”

“Ain't that many guys going around with a skull mask.”

“I heard he killed a man with only a pen…”

Your eyes widen at the mention of a mask, and you groan in annoyance before turning around to see where the staff is looking.

Near the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Ghost is watching over you like an overzealous bodyguard. He finally swapped his mission outfit for his trademark black hoodie and grey sweatpants. 

Exasperation flashes through you and you proceed to fling at him a cake wrapped in plastic. Your aim's never been anything to be proud of, but he's large enough that you manage to brush his shoulder.

“Get away from me, you creep!” you yell loud enough to be heard by him.

He gives you an inscrutable gaze before leaving the room, probably settling right on the other side of the door, not one to admit defeat so easily.

Minutes later, you leave the room to visit Soap, and observe with spiteful satisfaction that you were right - Ghost adopted the same position as before, against the corridor's wall. You glower at him as you pass by, and of course he remains unfazed.

You scoff with irritation before deciding to ignore him and focus on Johnny, accelerating the pace.

“Wait.”

You halt with a vexed sigh.

“If you intend to berate me again, I'm not gonna stand there and take it.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

You pivot to face him, exasperated by his sibylline remarks. He moved away from the wall and approached you while you had your back on him.

“Once again, what is that even supposed to mean?”

His cryptic attitude makes your blood boil with anger, one that could almost mask the feelings of hurt and betrayal he begets inside you. At some point, you've genuinely started to believe that you two became some kind of friends. Turns out that you've been naively imagining things this whole time.

“The whole self-sacrificing bullshit.”

You stare in incomprehension, searching his concealed features vainly for a clue, wishing you could rip that stupid mask off his face.

“I'm not sacrificing myself. It's just a bit of blood.”

He crosses his arms.

“We have stocks for that. And it's not just that. When he got into trouble with Price for making you skip work, you tried to take all the blame.”

“He did it to cheer me up-”

He keeps talking like you didn’t intervene.

“And when he pummeled that officer, you pretended it was all your fault.”

“I-”

“Luckily for you, Price's no sucker.”

You wince with distress.

“I just wanted to help. I hate being… feeling useless.”

“That's my problem. I swear it feels like you’d slash your own wrists if you thought it would ‘help’.”

You grimace but do not contradict him. It's actually kind of scary how much he figured you out.

“Let him take responsibility for his actions. He may look impulsive most of the time, but he knows what he's doing.”

Arms folded, you gaze fixedly at the floor in silence, not knowing what to add.

“I’m sorry.”

He talked loud enough to be understood, but the content of his sentence makes you doubt what he said as much as if he whispered. You stare at him with wide eyes, speechless. It's not that you categorically believe Ghost incapable of self-reflection, but at the same time, he's always striked you more as the type to never admit any weakness - except maybe in front of a trusted superior and longtime friend like Price.

“Shouldn't have tried to boss you around. Only made things worse. What happened with Johnny… made me…”

He acts like articulating an apology out loud has on him the effect of enthusiastically biting into a lemon - an irresistible temptation to annoy him emerges inside you. No harm in a little well-deserved payback.

“On edge? Touchy? Cranky? Irrita-”

“That'll do. Go, now.”

You turn away with an amused smile on your lips.

Witnessing the wounded sergeant in a hospital's bed is like a punch to the stomach. Maybe an actual punch would be more merciful.

Inside you, gratitude for his miraculous survival battles against sorrow caused by his pitiful state. An impressive bandage is wrapped around his head, one arm secured in a cast, the other bearing a couple of compresses. His face is littered with scratches and contusions.

When he notices you, frozen on the threshold, he beams.

“How's my little firecracker doing?”

That nickname. That damn nickname. He started using it after he caught you red-handed giving the middle finger to a rude officer who was leaving your office just as Soap was entering it. You tolerated it until you realized it was a reference to his love of explosions and all things blow-able, which made you ridiculously pleased, yet self-conscious all at once.

Your legs were already unsteady, so the complimentary alias almost finished you off. 

“That's my line, you Scottish bastard.” you retort, voice devoid of hostility despite the insult.

Closing the gap between you two with a few strides, you stop at what you consider a respectable distance.

“Why, I'm alive and kicking. No need fer ye to look so dejected.”

You scoff, both annoyed and moved by the attempt to console you. It's unbearable to see him so shattered and yet so upbeat, while you don't have a scratch but came so close to breaking down.

“I hate you,” you mumble.

“Ye love me.”

If you only knew… you wouldn’t dare to joke like that.

You smile ruefully, despite yourself.

“I'm serious. For a moment I…I really thought you… you weren't going to… shit.”

You furiously blink to get rid of the rising tears stinging your eyes, looking away shamefully.

“Hey, hey, hey, c'mere.”

He pats one side of the bed with his free hand invitingly. You obey, positioning yourself near the mattress close enough to touch. He grabs one of your hands and gently squeezes it.

“M sorry.” 

His tone is gruff, maybe a bit abashed. A pang of culpability pierces your heart. 

“What could you be sorry for? You were doing your job. I need to get over it.”

You’re not mine to lose.

“Fer makin’ ye cry. I hate it.”

Why does he have to be so kind?

You persist in trying to prove that you’re the one in the wrong here, not him.

“I shouldn't be crying. You’re the one who went through hell.”

He snorts.

“What's so funny?”

“Not funny, just… Ye didn’t even shed a tear when that bastard jumped ye the other day. Yet here ye are, crying over my sorry arse. Yer somethin’ else.”

The compliment takes you aback, and as his eyes sparkle with nothing but honesty, you fiddle with the bandage you received from the blood donation in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

“What’s that? Ye hurt?”

The concern in his voice warms your heart, even if it is unnecessary.

Soap rises from his pillow to some extent, pain obvious in his restricted movements. You react immediately, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Before you can think twice about it, you set your hand between his pecs and push him back, careful to not harm him, but firm.

“I didn't give you my blood just so you could spill it right away!”

He shouldn't be so easy to put back into his place, even with his wounds. Yet he goes down smoothly, docile under your imperious touch as if he was the unassuming civilian and you the imposing soldier.

His eyes linger on your hand before setting on you, the intensity and the heat of his gaze taking your breath away. His expression is one of surprise, but not of annoyance or revulsion, or at least that's what you hope from what you can read on his face.

Sinking into the lagoons of his eyes, you stare back in a daze. You can feel the rhythmic motions of his well-defined chest under your palm, rising and lowering as he breathes. Suddenly the contact becomes intolerable as your cheeks catch fire. You begin to withdraw but he grabs you just in time.

“Ye gave me yer blood?”

The urgency in his tone takes you by surprise, and so does his expression, one that's contemplating you like you've just announced that you've run in front of a truck for him.

“Price said you needed it-”

“Yer. Blood. We have a stock fer that!”

“I know, I just- I was there and I wanted to do something.”

“And they just let ye?”

“I asked real nicely.”

“Would have liked to see that.”

There's a challenging spark in his eye that you choose to ignore.

“It's just blood,” you mumble, shying away from his gaze, embarrassed by his reaction. You didn’t do this in the hopes that he would express eternal gratitude, nor that he'd be admiring of you.

“It will reconstitute on its own.”

He scoffs, unconvinced. Yet he doesn't sound too mad. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he's looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Let's talk less about me, and more about you, ok? How are you feeling?”

“Parched,” he retorts while reaching for the water bottle on the nearby tray table.

Of course he's not expanding further. Johnny's the kind to dramatically whine over a paper cut for fun but somehow when it comes to serious, life-threatening injuries, he becomes stoically reserved, almost stingy with words.

You almost throw yourself at the bottle when you notice the slight wince of pain in the line of his mouth - despite his efforts to conceal it - and hand it over to him.

“Just ask me if you need something.”

“Oh bonnie, ye dunnae know what yer getting yerself into with promises like that.”

You openly roll your eyes. If he can make that sort of comment, surely he's not in that much pain after all.

“Let me guess: you’re gonna ask me to kiss your boo boos better.”

You regret your jibe the second you finish talking. You were supposed to only think those words, not pronounce them. He's the gorgeous individual who can take the liberty of flirting with anyone, but you… you’re not.

His only reaction is a chuckle.

“Hmm, what if ah did? Ask fer a kiss?”

His tone is provocative, his pout sultry and his eyes pleading.

You stare at him in thoughtful silence, cogitating your answer. 

He misinterprets your lack of response, and backpedals, stuttering while doing so. He starts to apologize, plainly, apparently convinced he went too far, ashamed by his own conduct.

You let him stew in his embarrassment a bit, not out of sadism but curiosity, rarely being granted the opportunity to see him so insecure.

This could be the chance to put an end to his flirting for good. The chance you've been waiting for. It's what you should do.

But there's a part of you that is fed up. Fed up of this pretty man and his pretty words, of this blue-eyed casanova that must see you as another conquest and nothing more. You’re sick of passively enduring his quips, his seduction, his winks, his smirks. So yes, you could ask him to stop.

Or you could give him a test of his own medicine.

Lifting his hand towards your face, you lock eyes with him to be certain he's watching, then tenderly press your lips to each of his scarred knuckles.

The ensuing quiet is deafening.

He half-opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. You never saw him so flustered. Is he… is he blushing?

Somehow, seeing his flush sets your own face on fire. The reality of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Panic surging inside you, you deal with the situation the way you know best when no other solution comes to mind - you flee. Pretending you don't hear Soap calling after you, you scramble out of the bedroom like the devil's on your heels. Ghost, settled on a chair in the hallway, throws you the closest thing he must have to a bewildered gaze in his repertoire as you storm off by him, gaze that you ignore vehemently.

The following weeks are spent visiting Soap only when he's asleep. Kyle is nice enough to let you know when that's the case. You can tell by the interrogative way he looks at you that a bunch of questions rush on the tip of his tongue: what happened, why are you not simply seeing his teammate when he's awake with the rest of them. But he's either kind or polite enough to not formulate his concerns out loud. Or maybe he thinks it's a private matter between the two of you.

Either way, you’re grateful, and you repay the favor any time you can, filling the break room with his favorite snacks, making him tea or ensuring his gear gets maintained first.

At some point Ghost half complains to you, half reprimands you - since Soap is one part of his current problem and you another.

“Fuckin’ hell, never been easy keepin’ Johnny in medical, but since ya visited him he's worse than ever. Care to explain?”

“I fucked up,” you confess, without adding anything else.

“Fucked up how?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He curses loudly, dragging a gloved hand over his face, appalled by your demeanor.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I'm taking my secret to the grave. All I can tell is that I made an absolute fool of myself, and therefore I can never appear in front of Johnny again.”

He half sighs, half groans, and rolls his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You dramatic little…”

Soap eventually gets released from medical.

You spend a couple of weeks avoiding him to the best of your abilities, even though you can tell that Ghost is frankly sick of your antics, Price is five minutes away from berating you, and even Gaz starts to look at you with something that resembles disappointment. 

You actively despise yourself for ruining a perfectly good friendship. Especially because of a five seconds long action decided on a whim and carried out out of spite. You find yourself on the edge of tears a couple of times, yet unable to cry. Familiar rooms and corridors feel empty and awkwardly silent with his absence.

There are a bunch of close calls, and the base, or at least the part of it that you’re accustomed to, suddenly feels cramped.

But you hold on. 

Until you don't.

You're caught completely unaware, entering the break room as usual to get some coffee.

Only to freeze on the doorstep. Johnny's right there. Barely two meters away. It's the first time you lay eyes on him in what feels like forever. You can’t help but drink in the view.

He's sitting at a table, elbow leaning on it, cheek resting on his closed fist. Your eyes linger over the blue cobalt shirt he's wearing, your favorite of his, and his black fingerless gloves, which you've always had a weakness for. The corner of his lips are down, his eyebrows lightly frowned. Staring into space, he seems sullen.

Your heart tightens at the sight.

However you barely get the opportunity to indulge into your guilt, because next thing you know, your gazes meet. He perks up, eyes widening in surprise. You tense like a deer in the headlights, holding your breath. Dread swells inside you. You’re no braver than last time.

You turn around and decamp.

It's fine, you can come back later. You just need to unearth a hiding spot for now. The object of your affliction - on top of your affection - will probably be vexed enough by your reaction that he won't seek to confront you.

Yes, everything is just fine, you assure yourself - for no more than a handful of seconds.

Without warning, brawny, familiar arms close around your shoulders from behind, pinning your back against a muscular torso.

“Gotcha.”

The word is barely above a whisper, more a growl than anything else, enunciated right into your ear, sending shivers all over your body. You don’t find anything to do but clutch with both hands one of the tanned forearms pressed beneath your collarbone.

Fighting him off doesn't even cross your mind. It's not that you think you'd fail - you trust him to let you go at the first stern summon. You just don't want to forgo his embrace. He hasn’t hugged you since that time you've been mugged and one moment was enough to make you realize how much you’ve missed it.

“Dunnae whether to be upset ye ran away again, or to find it cute that ye thought ye could actually outrun me.”

You gulp, heart pounding and cheeks heating up.

“Johnny…”

A host of pitiful excuses accumulates behind your lips, but somehow none manage to make its way out.

He briefly tightens his hold, but the gesture feels more like a hug than a restraint. Did he… did he just squish you? Like some kind of… cuddle toy?

“Got nothin’ to tell me?”

The question is a taunt as much as a hint at reconciliation.

You try to pace yourself, and think logically about this predicament of your own making. You need to devise a strategy to come out - more or less - unscathed of this.

Soap sounds more smug than mad, but still, passably angry. Maybe there's a way to fix this. Be friends again like nothing happened. Maybe he can forgive you.

First, do not worsen things.

Two, apologize. Properly.

Three, keep your fingers crossed …?

“I'm… sorry?”

He chuckles darkly.

“Gonnae take more than that.”

You try to resist the effects this sentence, his husky voice, his proximity, his laugh have on you, the way they make your stomach twist in apprehension and… indisputable arousal. Resist the temptation to close your eyes so you could focus on his voice alone, on the warm breath brushing your skin, on the lips so close to your ear; to let go in his arms, lean with your whole weight on his body.

Focus, damn it, you admonish and beg yourself all at once. On something else. Anything else.

You’re about to argue that he cannot possibly expect you to succeed in making amends when you’re in this compromising position, but you don't get the time.

Johnny hauls you away inside the nearest room. In a split second, he flicked the lightswitch on and nearly slammed the door behind you.

Cleaning products and exiguity surround you, illuminated by a cheap light bulb.

A closet, helpfully supplies your mind. 

You barely have time to digest this information that Soap cages you against the wall, resting his forearms over your head. He contemplates you with a mix of melancholy and longing that renders your knees weak and sends a pang in your chest.

“Been going bloody mad with thoughts of ye.”

His voice is smooth like silk, tone sweet like honey, caressing your ears, warmth dripping inside your chest, making your head spin; or maybe it's a result of his closeness; or a consequence of his cerulean eyes boring into you.

“Ye got any idea how it felt to see ye leave without being able to do a bloody thing ‘bout it? Wanted nothing more than to rip off the tubes, get up, grab ye and lay back in bed with ye in my arms.”

He's intoxicating. He has to be, with how high, euphoric you're feeling, all your problems swept away, insignificant.

“Tell me to fuck off.”

You blink in incomprehension. Drunk on him, you may have lost track a little.

“I'll back off fer good.” 

Bliss makes way to horror.

“Look me in the eye and tell me ye hate me. Tell me I disgust ye. Tell me ye wish ye never met m-”

“No!”

Your shout has the merit to make him stop, even if you didn’t mean to yell. Your scream disconcerts him for a second before an exultant grin stretches his lips. His smugness is back with a vengeance.

“So ye do like me.”

“How could I not,” you mutter, capitulating, but avoiding his gaze.

He refuses to let you, and cups one side of your face to make you look at him. As you meet his eyes again, his thumb tenderly strokes your cheekbone. You feel your insides melt at the gesture.

“I like ye. A lot.”

He licks his lips, as if to grant himself some time to mull over his next words, and you automatically follow the motion.

“And I want to kiss ye. A lot.”

His hand slides from your cheek to your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

“Can I?”

It takes a moment for you to regain your voice. When you woke up this morning, you most definitely didn’t expect to receive a confession from John Mactavish. Your brain goes into overdrive.

Is this real? Am I dreaming?

“Johnny, listen…”

The gaze he's aiming at you glows with hope.

“You don’t want to be with me. I'm…” 

What? A shell of a human being? Broken?

“…a mess.”

Expectation is replaced by resolve in his turquoise pupils.

“I know exactly what I want. And it's ye. Wouldn't be here otherwise.”

His patience seems to unravel with each passing second, as he stares at you with something akin to desperation written on his face.

“Want me to beg? S’that it?”

“What? No-”

“Cause I can. Beg real pretty. Bet ye'd like that. Saw how ye looked at me the other day when I got on my knees for ye-”

He keeps babbling sweet and filthy nothings that set your face ablaze. He saw how you looked at him? Mortification briefly flares up inside you before you notice the amusement in the corner of his lips, the playful glimmer in his glance, tangled with the neediness - he's joking around. You adopt a stern expression to chasten him but quickly realize he's way too busy staring at your lips to get the message. So you grab both sides of his face to get his attention - two can play this game.

The sheepish, sad puppy face he gives you in return barely makes a notch in your firmness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, right before diving into the unknown.

“Yes,” you profess - and before he can tease you for clarification - “You can kiss me.”

But as he leans forward to obey, an incriminating detail surfaces in your mind.

“Wait, wait…”

You cover his mouth with one hand. Then immediately regret it, with how his eyes devour you the way his mouth can’t, not helping your flustered state at all.

He gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand, before pressing a kiss into your palm, your wrist.

“Now, better say something, or I'm gonna kiss my way up.”

He hums pensively.

“Scratch that, I'm gonna kiss ye everywhere.”

Pleasant tingles travel your whole body at that. He looks up from your hand to stare at you, and there's a devious glint in his eyes that tells you he caught sight of it.

“I have never.. done this… before.”

This confession means a lot to you. It's a well-kept secret, as long as people don't already deduce it from your lack of social skills. You’d rather it stays this way, but you don't see how you can start a relationship while withholding this truth.

All you can hope now is that Soap will react in a manner you consider appropriate. If he judges you, if that fact makes you go down in his estimation, or if he starts seeing you as some sort of innocent, naive individual that he could get off on corrupting, you’re not sure you'll be able to recover from it.

All playfulness deserts his face. He observes you with a mix of solemnity and compassion.

“Oh, bonnie… I don't give a shite ‘bout that. We'll go as slow or as fast as ye want, aye?”

Stirred beyond words, you nod your assent.

Not wasting any more time, he presses his lips to yours. They're soft and warm. You expected a surge of unbridled desire, but he takes his sweet time with you, to become acquainted with your mouth. 

It only lasts a moment though; as he seems to gain in confidence and deepens the kiss, his motions fill with fervor, turn frantic. Hunger rivals devotion.

They say the greatest pleasure possible a human being can experience isn’t, well, pleasure; it's the end of pain - and he's kissing you like he's been aching for it, for so long, and he's finally getting relief. He's clinging onto you like the separation of those past weeks put him in severe withdrawal.

You probably would have let him continue if you weren't compelled by the imperative need to breathe. You turn away, panting.

Not interrupted in the slightest, he simply latches onto your neck instead.

Floating in a daze, you absently close one hand on the back of his shirt, and fondle his mohawk with the other.

“Hold on to me.”

The instruction takes a ridiculously long time to reach you. Thankfully, Soap picks up on that and grasps your hands to place them on the back of his neck. You only understand his goal when his fingers slide behind your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, wedging you between the wall and himself.

Once he gets his fill of your throat, he sneaks one forearm under your rear and lets go of one of your thigh, somehow managing to keep you in the air one-armed, to tug at the opening of your top.

Seeing him struggle to open your blouse one-handed, you reach down to assist; but just as you do that, he grabs one side of the clothing between his teeth, and pulling the other with his free hand, he rips off the first three snap fasteners in one go. Your eyes go wide, your mind torn between finding the gesture arousing or risible. 

You settle for a fond scoff.

“You animal.”

The name feels all the more appropriate because when he looks up at you, releasing the cloth, the hunger in his eyes is striking, and the wolfish grin he grants you is the one of a ravenous predator.

“You could have just asked-”

“S'faster,” he shrugs, at least as much as possible in his current position.

You barely notice the staple of your bra opening; he hauls you slightly higher, bringing your chest to mouth level, and dives between your breasts like a man starved. The contact makes you tilt your head back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your sensitive skin makes you coil: your fingers grasp the back of his shirt and his hair, pressing his head impossibly closer, your thighs clench around his torso, your toes curl.

“Fuck, Johnny.”

He moans your name in response, albeit a bit muffled. He sounds as afflicted as you are, if not more. The idea turns you on terribly.

You look down to see him, and the vision of his face feverishly pressed to your skin is almost unbearable.

Suddenly he recoils, eyes meeting yours, and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out, right in front of your nipple, holding still in silent question. Your crotch throbs with arousal and you bitterly regret your earlier assessment - this view is much harder to endure, by far. The deep, honest eagerness in his gaze, coupled with the absolute submission to your will he demonstrates…

That doesn't stop you from frenetically nodding your head in agreement. His lips close around your nipple and the flick of his tongue against it draws a whine out of you. His free hand softly squeeze your other breast.

If he wasn’t holding you, your legs probably would have given out.

A faraway ringtone painfully pierces through the torpor you’re deliciously lost in. Your ringtone.

Johnny swears under his breath and blindly gropes your ass to silence your phone lodged in your back pocket.

Your eyes snap open in horror as you abruptly emerge into reality.

“Shit, shit, SHIT! Put me down!”

You repeatly hit Soap's shoulders to get his attention and convey urgency, without putting real force behind it. He complies immediately.

Your soles barely reached the ground that you’re already whiping out the device from your pants. Your coworker's name is displayed on the screen. Turning your back on Johnny, you pick up the call in a panic.

“Hey… yes. Yes, I'll be there in a minute. …They're not here yet? Thank fuck.” 

As you sheepishly reassure your colleague that you’ll be there soon for the meeting that should have already started, you feel fingers fiddling with your blouse. Your first instinct is to bat Johnny's hands away, before grasping that he's actually putting your snaps back in place.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing bad. … I, uh… I just got held back. Anyway, see you soon.”

You hang up with shaky hands and a weary but relieved sigh.

The Scotsman's arms wrap around your waist from behind and he lovingly nuzzles his face against yours. His stubble prickles your skin, but the gesture is too endearing for you to spurn him.

“No more running away, aye?”

He exudes peacefulness, every muscle in his body content and relaxed. Where did Ghost's vicious attack dog go and who's this teddy bear?

“No more running,” you acquiesce.

“Good lass,” he purrs.

Normally, you would have gotten back at him for that patronizing comment, but you still feel bad for the way you treated him, so you just grunt.

“We'll pick up where we left off, hmm?”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you realize what he's referring to - his kisses wandering lower, to fulfill the “everywhere” part of the pledge he made earlier.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

[reidmarieprentiss]

Finding Home Again: Part One

Summary: Y/N meets Spencer Reid when she is 11-years-old, her older brother, Adam, is his classmate and friend. They reconnect at Adam's wedding.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, one bed trope

Warnings/Includes: mild bullying, name calling, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), wedding activities, swimming in underwear, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress, suggestive content (16+), commitment issues, emotionally unavailable parents, bad relationship with parents, confrontation

Word count: 12.4k

a/n: part two is here!!

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a terrified 8-year-old freshman in high school. As he navigated the crowded hallways, his small frame was easily overlooked, but his presence still drew strange looks and whispered comments. He felt extremely uncomfortable and out of place, his heart pounding with every step. By the end of the day, he still hadn't had a single student offer any help or kindness to him. 

His last class of the day was Algebra 2, and he felt a flicker of hope. Math had always been his sanctuary, a place where numbers and equations made sense when nothing else did. When he walked into the classroom, he noticed that there was assigned seating. Relief washed over him; at least he wouldn't have to struggle to find somewhere to sit.

As everyone got settled in, Spencer found his assigned seat next to a tall, friendly-looking boy. Before he had a chance to take out his notebook, the boy turned to him and smiled warmly.

"I'm Adam," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Spencer looked at the hand and then back up at Adam, feeling a wave of anxiety. "Hi, I'm Spencer, and I don't shake hands," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam laughed, not in a mean way, but with genuine amusement. "Hi, Spencer who doesn't shake hands. It's nice to meet you."

Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. For the first time that day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be so bad after all.

— 

Y/N had spent the past few years immersed in the bustling streets and rich culture of Paris, attending a prestigious boarding school that promised to refine her language skills and broaden her horizons. Yet, despite the allure of the City of Light, she often felt the sting of loneliness, her parents' distance echoing even across the ocean. Now, at age 11, she was returning home a month earlier than the American school year ended, her heart a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

As the chauffeur-driven car pulled up to the grand but cold mansion in the suburbs of Las Vegas, Y/N's heart sank. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her parents would be there to greet her. Instead, the familiar figure of their chauffeur, Robert, was the one to open the car door.

"Welcome home, Miss Y/N," he said with a polite smile.

She forced a smile in return, hiding her disappointment. "Thank you, Robert."

Dragging her feet along the paved path, she entered the house, its opulence doing little to warm the cold emptiness she felt. She made her way to the living room, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of home, but instead, she was met with the unexpected sight of her brother, Adam, and a group of his friends, hunched over textbooks and notebooks.

"Hey, Y/N!" Adam greeted her with a grin, looking up from his textbook. "Welcome back!"

"Hi," she replied, her voice flat. She was too tired and too upset to muster any enthusiasm. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the familiar faces of her brother's friends that she’d seen in pictures he’d sent. When her eyes finally landed on a boy who was clearly much younger than the rest, with tousled brown hair and a slightly awkward demeanor. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

“Who are you?” Y/N hadn’t meant to be rude, she was just slightly shocked to see someone her own age among the older boys.

"This is Spencer," Adam introduced, gesturing to the boy. "Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She just got back from Paris."

"Hi," Spencer said softly, offering a small, tentative smile.

"Hi," Y/N replied, her frustration momentarily forgotten as she took in the boy who seemed as out of place in their luxurious home as she felt. "Nice to meet you."

"Sorry we're invading the living room," Adam said, noticing her weariness. "We're just cramming for finals. Spencer here is a genius when it comes to math and science, so he's been helping us out."

Y/N nodded, her exhaustion catching up with her. "It's fine. I just need to rest, so please, no screaming about fractions."

She turned to head upstairs, her feet thudding against each step as she climbed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the study group, wishing she had that kind of camaraderie during her time in Paris. They didn’t take well to American’s, no matter how long she was there nor how fluent she spoke. But more than anything, she wished her parents had cared enough to be there when she came home.

—

The summer before his senior year stretched out long and hot, with the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the hum of cicadas. Adam, now balancing a job cleaning pools and the pressures of preparing for SATs, ACTs, and college applications, found his days filled to the brim. He wasn't working for the money; his parents' wealth ensured he never had to worry about that. But he wanted to break free from the golden cage, to carve out a future where he wasn’t reliant on his parents.

Y/N watched from the sidelines as her brother’s schedule became increasingly packed. She missed the days when they would goof around together, but understood that Adam had his own life to lead. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid found himself spending more and more time with Adam. Spencer wasn't old enough to work yet, but his days were equally busy with preparations for the same academic hurdles.

One hot afternoon, Adam and Spencer were sitting on the back porch, textbooks and notes spread out between them. Adam was explaining a particularly tricky math problem, his hair falling into his eyes as he spoke. Spencer listened intently, his eyes occasionally flicking up to Adam's face, a subtle admiration in his gaze.

"Got it?" Adam asked, looking over at Spencer with a friendly smile.

Spencer nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. You're really good at explaining things."

Adam laughed lightly, clapping Spencer on the back. "No problem, buddy. We make a good team, huh?"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the casual touch, his mind racing with unspoken feelings. "Yeah, we do."

Their interactions were always like this—simple, friendly, but with an undercurrent of something more for Spencer. He couldn't help the crush that had developed, even though he knew it was impossible. Adam was older, focused on his future, and saw Spencer as a friend, maybe even a little brother.

One day, as they were packing up their study materials, Adam glanced over at Spencer. "Hey, thanks for helping me stay on track this summer. I know I’ve been busy, but it’s been cool hanging out with you."

Spencer smiled, the words warming his heart. "It's been cool for me too. I’ve learned a lot."

"You're gonna ace those tests, no doubt," Adam said with a confident grin. "And who knows, maybe we'll end up at the same college."

Spencer's eyes lit up at the thought, but he quickly tempered his excitement, not wanting to seem too eager. "Yeah, that would be great."

As Adam slung his bag over his shoulder and headed inside, Spencer lingered on the porch for a moment, watching him go. He knew his feelings for Adam would likely never be reciprocated, but he cherished these moments of closeness, however fleeting they might be.

Y/N observed all this from her bedroom window, a quiet observer to the crush Spencer clearly had on her older brother. She felt the green monster of jealousy coil up inside of her. Why doesn’t Spencer look at her like that? Is she not as smart as Adam? Not as funny? Maybe he only likes older people.

One particularly warm day, Spencer was over to help Adam revise an application essay. They were hanging out by the pool, both to Spencer's excitement and frustration. He didn't want to take his shirt off in front of Adam; he was so scrawny compared to the man Adam was becoming. He didn't even have hair under his arms yet! Spencer found himself getting worked up over the muscle Adam had put on while cleaning pools, feeling increasingly self-conscious.

"Hey, I'm going to grab some lemonade," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice steady as he got up from his lounge chair.

Adam looked up from his notes and nodded. "Sure thing, grab some for me too, will ya?"

Spencer nodded and walked briskly into the house, his thoughts a whirl of admiration and insecurity. As he poured himself a glass of lemonade, having kindly turned down the offer from one of the kitchen staff to do it for him, Y/N walked into the kitchen in a swimsuit. She knew what she was doing; she wanted to see if Spencer would look at her like he did her brother.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted, her voice casual but her eyes searching.

Spencer almost dropped the pitcher, startled by her sudden appearance. "H-hi, Y/N..."

"How’s it going? Is it hot out there?" she asked, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance.

"Mhm, it's hot and, uh, yeah, good. You?" Spencer stammered, trying to keep his eyes on her face and not let them wander. Stupid hormones.

"I'm good, bored. Think I'm gonna go for a swim," Y/N replied, giving him a pointed look.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. "Oh, cool. Swimming sounds nice."

Y/N nodded. "You should join me sometime. It’s a good way to cool off, especially on days like this."

"I, uh, maybe," Spencer managed, his voice cracking slightly.

She smiled at him. "Well, I'll be out there if you change your mind."

With that, she turned and walked out towards the pool, leaving Spencer standing there, his heart racing. He couldn't help but feel a confusing mix of emotions. He liked Y/N; she was kind and funny in her own way. But his feelings for Adam were something different, something he couldn't quite understand or control.

As he walked back outside with the lemonade, he caught sight of Y/N cannonballing into the pool. Adam looked up and waved Spencer over, oblivious to the tension Spencer was feeling.

"Thanks, man," Adam said, taking the glass from Spencer. "You should take a dip too. Y/N's got the right idea; it's a great way to beat the heat."

Spencer nodded, trying to smile. "Maybe later."

He sat back down, trying to focus on the essay in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. He glanced over at Y/N, who was swimming leisurely, and then at Adam, who was scribbling notes in the margin of his paper. Spencer felt like he was caught in the middle of something he didn't quite understand, struggling to find his place in the dynamics of this family that had become so important to him.

—

The day of Adam's graduation was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Adam, ever the unexpected, had committed to Florida State, a decision that had shocked and horrified many. Spencer could hardly believe it when he heard the news. Florida State, a school notorious for its party culture, seemed an odd choice for someone who had always been so focused on academics. But Adam was a party boy through and through, and now, with the immense college fund his parents had set up for him, he had the freedom to choose his own path.

That night, Adam's family mansion was abuzz with a grand celebration party. The opulent rooms were filled with friends, family, and well-wishers, all toasting to Adam's future. Spencer, though trying to be happy for his friend, felt a gnawing sense of sadness and anxiety. Graduating at only 12-years-old and moving away to college meant leaving behind the only family that had ever felt like his.

As the party continued, Spencer found himself feeling more and more overwhelmed. Seeking solace, he looked around for Y/N. He found her standing by the grand staircase, looking as though she was taking a brief respite from the festivities.

"Y/N," he called softly, and she turned to him, her eyes filled with concern at his slightly panicked appearance.

"Hey, Spencer," she said gently, sensing his turmoil. "Do you want to go outside?"

Spencer nodded, grateful for her intuition. She led him out of the mansion and into the expansive garden. The night air was cool and soothing, and the garden was a haven of tranquility away from the noise of the party. They walked in silence for a while, the stars twinkling above them like scattered diamonds.

Y/N finally stopped at a secluded spot, a bench under a large oak tree. She sat down and patted the space next to her. Spencer joined her, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the sky.

"I can't believe he's going to Florida State," Spencer said, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of sadness.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, it's a surprise, but it's his choice. He’s an adult now."

Spencer sighed. "I know. It's just... I'm going to miss him. And you. This place feels like home, and now I'm leaving."

Y/N placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll miss you too, Spencer. But you'll do amazing things, I know it. You've always been great."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "It's just... scary, you know? Moving away, being on my own. What if I don't fit in?"

Y/N smiled warmly. "You will. You always do."

They sat in comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars. The night was calm, the garden a peaceful contrast to the lively celebration inside. Spencer felt a sense of peace wash over him, comforted by Y/N's presence and her words.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking over at her. "For being here. For understanding."

Y/N squeezed his shoulder gently. "I’ll always be here for you, Spencer."

As they sat together, the weight of the impending changes felt a little lighter. The stars above seemed to shine a bit brighter, and for the first time that night, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

—

24 years old now, Spencer Reid hadn't thought about Adam in years, but when the invitation arrived in the mail, it brought back a flood of memories. He held the ornate envelope in his hands, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. The invitation was to Adam's wedding, an event that promised to reunite old friends and acquaintances. Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of obligation to attend. Adam had always been kind to him during those tumultuous high school years.

Despite his apprehension, Spencer decided to go. He meticulously planned his trip, ensuring he had everything he needed to make a good impression. The journey to the wedding venue in Napa Valley, California was a blur of anxious thoughts and memories of the past. As he arrived at the grand hotel where the event was being held, he felt a knot of nerves tightening in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Y/N was also preparing for the wedding. She couldn't help but feel excitement and trepidation at the thought of seeing Spencer again, Adam informed her that he had RSVP’d yes. She had always harbored a silly little crush on him, one that had persisted through the years despite their long separation. The idea of seeing him again, older and perhaps changed, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The wedding weekend began with a flurry of activities. The hotel was abuzz with guests arriving, mingling, and catching up. Spencer found himself lost in the crowd, his nerves making it difficult to relax. As he checked in at the front desk, the receptionist handed him a key card with a polite smile.

"Here you go, Dr. Reid. Room 212," she said.

Spencer thanked her and made his way to the elevator, his mind racing with thoughts of what the weekend could entail. He arrived at the door to his room and swiped the key card. As he pushed the door open, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Y/N was standing in the middle of the room, her back to him as she attempted to pull up the zipper of her dress. Upon hearing the door open, she spun around with a scream, holding the dress to her chest.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry!” Spencer stammered, equally startled.

“Spencer?” she said, her expression shifting from surprise to recognition.

“Y/N?” he replied, still trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, still clutching the dress to her chest.

“I don’t know, this is the room I was told I'm staying in. My key opened the door…” he explained, holding up the key card as if it could somehow explain everything.

“Shit. Okay. Something must have gotten messed up. I'll check it out as soon as I'm dressed,” Y/N said, her tone calming slightly.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just leave you be,” Spencer said, starting to back out of the room.

“Actually… Spencer, could you help me with the zipper?” Y/N asked, her voice softer and a bit embarrassed.

Spencer paused, his face flushing. “Uh, sure. Of course.”

He stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N turned around, holding her hair up to give him access to the zipper. His hands trembled slightly as he grasped the zipper, carefully pulling it up the back of her dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly once he had finished.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, stepping back and trying to keep his eyes respectfully averted.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, let’s go sort this out. Maybe the front desk can figure out what happened.”

As they left the room together, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. Despite the initial shock, there was something oddly comforting about being in Y/N’s presence again. 

—

"So you're saying every single room in the entire hotel is booked? How is that even possible?” Y/N asked, her frustration evident.

“Well, miss, your wedding party is not the only group staying here. It is a very popular vineyard, especially at this time of year,” the receptionist explained calmly.

“So what you’re saying is we have to share this room?” Y/N pressed, trying to find a solution.

“You could stay with someone else, but yes, there are no more rooms available,” the receptionist confirmed.

Y/N sighed deeply, rubbing between her brows. “Okay. Thank you.”

Spencer and Y/N walked away from the desk, both trying to process the situation. Spencer broke the silence with a lighthearted joke. “Hopefully this is the worst thing that will happen this weekend.”

Y/N looked at him, a mix of apology and stress in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to make you think I’d hate to share a room with you… it’s just, this weekend is already going to be stressful.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry for teasing. It’s okay. It will be like the sleepovers we had as kids,” Spencer said, trying to reassure her.

“You mean where you and Adam slept in the game room and I stayed as far away as possible?” Y/N responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Exactly,” Spencer bubbled with laughter, the tension between them easing a bit.

They made their way back to their shared room, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic, thinking back to those simpler times. Y/N, too, found herself feeling a bit more at ease, her initial worries about the weekend beginning to fade. 

—

Once they were back in the room, Y/N looked over at Spencer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was going to pretend to be courteous and ask what side of the bed you prefer… but I have to sleep next to the window,” she announced, a playful smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, thank you for almost considering my feelings!” Spencer laughed, his tension easing. “I don’t mind either way, but if you snore half as bad as your brother, I’m putting a pillow over your face.”

“Oh my god, that man could cut down trees with that chainsaw he keeps in his mouth!” Y/N exclaimed, her laughter filling the room.

They shared some giggles, the awkwardness between them dissolving into familiarity and warmth.

“It’s really nice to see you, Spencer,” Y/N said sincerely, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

“You too, Y/N. You look so grown up,” Spencer replied, noting the elegance and maturity in her appearance.

“Well, 12 years will do that to someone,” she said with a chuckle, her gaze lingering on him.

“Not me, I still look the same,” Spencer said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, studying his face. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Okay, easy now,” Spencer protested lightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Did you ever grow armpit hair?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Hey!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to defend his dignity.

“Oh, come on, Spencer! Show me!” Y/N teased further, taking a playful step towards him.

“No, Y/N. Hey, get away from me!” Spencer laughed as Y/N chased him around the room, her determination to see his armpits turning into a playful game.

With a burst of energy, Y/N ended up tackling him to the bed, sitting successfully on his stomach. “Give it up, Spencer, I win.”

“Nope!” he yelled triumphantly before using all his strength to flip her, pinning her down and tickling her.

Y/N cackled and shouted, “Uncle! Uncle!” between fits of laughter.

When Spencer finally pulled back, they both noticed the precarious position they were in. Spencer was between Y/N’s thighs with his hands by her head, both of them panting in each other’s mouths. The laughter faded as they locked eyes, the weight of the years apart and the sudden closeness creating a charged moment.

“I need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” Y/N whispered.

Spencer took the cue and got off of Y/N and the bed. “Mhm, yup. Me too.”

“Um, I showered when I got here. So, uh, I’ll just go get ready in the bridal suite. You can have the room,” Y/N said as she gathered the things she would need to get ready.

“Y/N… you don’t have to leave, I’m sorry.”

“What? Nothing to be sorry about. Just giving you your privacy. See you later, Spencer.”

“Yeah, see—” but she had already shut the door behind her. 

Spencer ran his hands over his face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. What had he been thinking? The sudden intimacy had caught him off guard, and now he felt a pang of regret for how awkward things had become. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began preparing for the rehearsal dinner, hoping the rest of the evening would go more smoothly.

— 

Y/N was not a bridesmaid, but she was fine with that. She wasn't all that interested in the responsibilities and duties that came with it anyway. She was still very close with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Elizabeth, and it was no problem for her to get ready in the bridal suite. Once she explained the mix-up with the rooms, Elizabeth was extremely apologetic and understanding.

At the rehearsal dinner, Y/N’s seat was, of course, next to Spencer’s. He had arrived before her, which meant she spotted the back of his head before she sat down, giving her time to make a run for the open bar before making her way to the table.

As she sat down, Spencer looked over and his breath caught at the sight of her. Y/N looked absolutely radiant in her rehearsal dinner attire. The outfit suited her perfectly, complementing all of her assets and making her eyes shine. Maybe he had been silly to waste all those years alongside her chasing after her brother when she was right there. Although, he figured it probably would have been difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship at 12 while he was in university.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him, her smile warm and genuine.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, still a bit breathless. “You look... amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling more at ease. “Thanks. It’s nice to be here. I mean, it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s crazy how time flies.”

As they settled into conversation, the initial awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissipate. They talked about their lives, their work, and the memories from their youth, finding common ground and shared experiences. The laughter and joyfulness that had once defined their friendship began to resurface, making the evening feel less like a reunion of strangers and more like a gathering of old friends.

Throughout the dinner, Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, marveling at how she had grown into such a beautiful and confident woman. The realization that he might have missed something special by focusing so much on Adam gnawed at him, but he tried to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the present moment.

After all the speeches were given and the eating was rehearsed, the youngest and oldest of the crowd turned into their rooms for the night. The bridal party and groomsmen left as well, all needing to be up very early. This left the young to middle-aged adults to the complimentary after-dinner party. There were free drinks, a dance floor, karaoke, and dimmed lighting.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, not knowing if this was his cup of tea or not. “Do you want to stay for a bit?”

The idea of cutting the night short didn't sit well with him, especially not with how Y/N was looking at him. “No, no, I'd like to stay if you do.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’ll stay.”

The two walked over to the bar to get a drink. Spencer had very rarely indulged in alcohol. Gideon had tried to introduce him to scotch, which he hated. Hotch had shown him whiskey, which wasn’t as bad but still too strong. Derek ordered him a Sex on the Beach that he really liked but was too embarrassed to order on his own. So he didn't know what he was going to do when the bartender looked at him.

“What will you have, miss?” the bartender asked Y/N.

“Just an appletini, please,” she replied. The bartender nodded and turned his attention to Spencer.

Spencer could feel his palms sweat as he ran over every drink he knew of. Y/N leaned over and asked, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Spencer nodded gratefully and whispered his order in her ear. Y/N pulled away, absolutely delighted. She told the bartender his drink before looking back to Spencer and saying, “At least ask me on a date first, you men are all the same,” teasing the poor red man.

Spencer blushed furiously but couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” he said, his embarrassment mingling with amusement.

The bartender soon returned with their drinks—Y/N’s appletini and Spencer’s Sex on the Beach. Y/N handed Spencer his drink, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here you go, pervert. Enjoy.”

Spencer blushed even more, laughing despite himself. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip and feeling the sweet, fruity flavors calm his nerves.

They moved to a small table near the dance floor, the music a pleasant background to their conversation. Y/N sipped her drink and looked around, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

“So, Dr. Reid,” she began, her tone playful, “what’s your favorite part about weddings?”

Spencer thought for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips. “Honestly, I’ve never been to a wedding before. Have you?”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. I think my favorite part is the dancing. I’ve always wanted someone to swing me around the dance floor at a wedding, it looks so romantic.”

Spencer took note of what Y/N was saying, thinking that maybe he could be the one to dance her around tomorrow at the reception. “You know, I never said thank you,” Spencer said.

“For what?” Y/N tilted her head.

“For being nice to me, you and Adam both. You never laughed at me or made me feel weird for being so young and advanced.”

“Spencer…” Y/N said with a hint of questioning in her voice. “Why would we make fun of you for being smart? Oh ha ha, look at this guy, he knows way more than us.”

Spencer chuckled. “I know, but still, thank you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, reaching across the table to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome, Spencer. You’ve always been special to us.”

Spencer felt his heart grow ten sizes at her words, 'us,' and the fact that Y/N remembered his aversion for touching hands. Screw Adam and Elizabeth, he’d marry Y/N tomorrow. Now, that might be a little dramatic, but whatever.

As Spencer and Y/N continued to catch up and enjoy each other's company, they also consumed more drinks. The alcohol birthed an idea in Y/N’s pretty head, quite a good one if she says so.

“Spencer,” she leaned in, her voice playful.

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded, also leaning in until their foreheads pressed together.

Y/N giggled before sharing her idea, “We should go swimming.”

“What? Where?” Spencer asked, bewildered.

“The hotel has a pool!” she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

“Isn’t it closed by now?” Spencer asked, skeptical but intrigued.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head against his, her movement causing his glasses to brush against her eyebrows. “It’s open 24/7.”

Spencer was nervous; he knew Y/N liked to swim, but he wasn’t very good at it, not having done much swimming since his last summer with Adam. But he couldn’t say no to her, it would appear.

“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed, the decision making his heart race.

Y/N squealed in delight, grabbing Spencer by his bicep and dragging him behind her. She squeezed the muscle in her hand before wiggling her eyebrows at him and saying, “Wow, doctor, did you put on some muscle?”

Spencer blushed something fierce. “I had to, I’m in the FBI.”

“Ohh good, I’m gonna need a big strong man in case we get into danger,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt like he already was in danger, but a kind he was willing to face.

—

Once at the pool, they were both relieved to find no one else there; it was pretty late after all. As they approached the water, Spencer suddenly realized a flaw in Y/N's plan.

“Y/N, wait,” he grabbed her arm. “What about swimsuits?”

She smirked at him and pulled her arm away before grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it off. Spencer's eyes were as wide as saucers, hilariously magnified by his frames.

“Close your mouth, doctor. Wouldn't want you to catch flies,” she teased, and with that, she jumped into the pool.

As Y/N resurfaced, Spencer noticed her makeup was impressively intact, probably some of that new waterproof stuff they make. She swam over to the edge in front of Spencer before looking up at him with a gaze not unlike a siren luring in prey.

“Come on in, Spence. The water feels amazing,” she coaxed, her voice soft and inviting.

Spencer, under the influence of something much stronger than alcohol, started shedding his clothes down to his briefs. Y/N wolf-whistled once he had his shirt off, causing a full-body flush to take over him. As soon as he was down to his last article, he jumped into the water to avoid her staring any longer.

The cool water enveloped him, a refreshing contrast to the heat he felt under Y/N's gaze. He surfaced, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses, which had miraculously stayed on.

“There you are,” Y/N said, swimming over to him. “Isn’t this nice?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, feeling a bit more at ease now that he was in the water. “It’s actually really nice.”

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, her voice low and taunting, getting very close to Spencer in the water, their bodies almost touching.

Spencer felt like he was going to pass out. “Re–ready for what?”

“Race ya!” she exclaimed, and with that, she was off, swimming away with powerful strokes.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden challenge. Then, with a determined look, he launched himself after her, his competitive spirit kicking in despite his nerves. The cool water rushed past him as he swam, his strokes becoming more confident as he pushed himself to keep up with Y/N.

She reached the far end of the pool first, touching the wall and turning to see Spencer still making his way towards her. She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night air.

“You’re slow, Dr. Reid!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer reached the wall, panting but smiling. “Not all of us are part fish, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’m not that fast,” she said with a playful pout. “You did pretty well for someone who has never won a swimming race, ever.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, catching his breath. “But next time, I’ll beat you.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he said, feeling bolder. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I like when you get cocky, it suits you,” Y/N said, her voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as she swam closer to him, their bodies almost touching again.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. “Oh really? I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“There’s a lot you have in you, Spencer,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “Maybe you just need the right person to bring it out.”

“And who, um–who do you think that person is?” he asked, his voice trembling and nervous.

“Someone who,” she whispered, her lips just inches from his. “Would have se–”

“Hey! What are you two doing in here?” a security guard called out.

“Nothing!” Spencer yelped.

“Just leaving!” Y/N added quickly.

They scrambled out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and running down a hallway towards the elevators. Once they were safely inside one, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“I thought you said it was open all night!” Spencer exclaimed between breaths.

“I may have told a fib to get you to come swimming with me,” Y/N admitted, giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Are you mad at me, Spence?”

Spencer could see her hard nipples poking through the soaking wet, thin material of her bra and couldn’t find himself to be anything but aroused. “Uh, no, no. Not mad, that was fun.”

Y/N caught him looking but didn’t say anything. What man wouldn’t look at wet breasts right in his face?

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, smiling. “Thanks for going with me.”

As Spencer looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at Y/N’s half-naked body, she took her opportunity to glance down at his scantily concealed half hard bulge. She could see the entire outline through his wet, hot pink briefs.

“Never took you as a pink guy, doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer blushed fiercely, trying to cover himself with his clothes. “They were a gift,” he mumbled, embarrassed but unable to keep from smiling.

“Well, I think they suit you,” she said with a wink.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, making their way back to their room, still dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear. Once inside, they both burst out laughing again, the adrenaline from their escapade still coursing through them.

“Here,” Y/N said, grabbing a couple of towels from the bathroom and tossing one to Spencer. “Dry off before you catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, wrapping the towel around himself. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, toweling off her hair. “But it was worth it.”

Spencer nodded, his heart still racing. “Yeah, it was.”

They both stood there for a moment, wrapped in towels and basking in the afterglow of their impromptu adventure. The tension between them was palpable, but so was the camaraderie and affection.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. “I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed reluctantly, not wanting the evening to end. “Uh, do you want to shower first?”

“Thanks, Spencer,” Y/N nodded her head and grabbed her things.

The next 10 minutes were the hardest, literally, of Spencer's entire life. Knowing Y/N was naked and wet on the other side of the door was pure torture. He could hear the water running, imagine the steam filling the room, and envision her silhouette behind the shower curtain. When Y/N cracked open the bathroom door and peeked her head out, Spencer sat up faster than ever before, super not obvious at all.

“Sorry… I kind of forgot to bring any clothes in, so I need to come out in my towel. Is that okay?” she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“Ye–yeah. Mhm,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s totally fine, no big deal. Why would I care?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Y/N looked at him skeptically, a playful glint in her eye. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Spencer nodded and waited until Y/N was facing her suitcase to make a break for it, sprinting to the bathroom so she didn't see his very prominent boner tenting his pants. Y/N turned around quickly at the sound of the bathroom door slamming, finding his behavior odd.

In the shower, Spencer turned the water to cold and willed his erection away. The icy water was a shock to his system, but he needed it to calm down. He had not indulged much in self-pleasure and had certainly never seen as much of a woman as he saw today, let alone been touched by one. Eventually, it did go down, and he got out, only to realize he hadn't brought a towel. Of fucking course.

Spencer was now the one sticking his head out of the crack he made in the doorway, “Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spencer, what’s up?” she called back, now sitting in the bed.

“I, um, forgot a towel,” he admitted, feeling his face heat up again.

“Oh shit, let me grab yours,” Y/N replied, getting up and walking over to his bag to retrieve the towel.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind the door.

When Y/N walked over to hand the towel to Spencer, she couldn’t help but immediately break into giggles.

“Oh, that’s what every guy wants to hear. What is it?” Spencer asked, mortified, his head barely poking out from behind the door.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs, “it’s just that I can see your butt in the mirror.”

Completely horrified, Spencer slammed the door shut and banged his head on it. “Can we please forget about this?” he groaned, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Absolutely not! You have the cutest ass I’ve ever seen!” Y/N called out, her laughter echoing through the room.

Spencer felt his face burn even more as he dried off and quickly dressed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he avoided eye contact with Y/N, who was still chuckling softly, a wide grin on her face.

“Ready for bed?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye, clearly still amused by the situation.

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment as he climbed into his side of the bed.

They settled into their respective sides, the awkwardness from the bathroom incident lingering but slowly giving way to a more comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, turning off the bedside lamp and snuggling under the covers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, settling into his pillow and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Despite the awkward moments and his own nervousness, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt since that last summer. This weekend, for all its surprises, was turning out to be something special. And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

— 

When the room’s phone began ringing with a wake-up call in the morning, both Y/N and Spencer groaned at being woken up. Y/N stuck her arm out, grabbed the phone, and hung it up to stop the sound rattling in her head. Much to her surprise and gratitude, she was not hungover, just very tired. She went to roll over to go back to sleep when she noticed her body was being restricted by multiple different body parts, none of which belonged to her.

Spencer had one arm around her waist, his other beneath his head, one leg on her hip, and the other between both of her legs. The man had wrapped himself around her like a human octopus. He was also awake, not having slept through the wake-up call, but was paralyzed out of fear or embarrassment, maybe both.

Y/N felt him tense up and his breathing grow rapid, signaling that he was awake. “Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Reid. Or is it Doc Ock?” she teased, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment.

“I know I am, thank you,” Y/N said, a smirk playing on her lips.

They lay in silence for a few more moments, both of them thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed against their own.

“So, not that I'm complaining, but were you planning on letting me go anytime soon?” Y/N asked, amusement evident in her tone.

“Oh god, yes. I'm so sorry,” Spencer said, hurriedly trying to disentangle himself. In his haste, he managed to rub his morning wood against Y/N’s ass.

“Jesus, Reid! Any of your other body parts you want to touch me with?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, nope. Actually, I think I'm just going to open the window and jump out. I think the 15 floors will kill me,” he said, his voice muffled from behind his hands that were hiding his extremely red face.

Y/N laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his face. “Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” she said, her tone reassuring. “No need to jump out the window.”

Spencer looked at her, still blushing but grateful for her understanding. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m really sorry about that.”

She shrugged, giving him a playful smile. “It’s all part of the fun, right? Besides, I’d miss having you around.”

Spencer managed a small smile, feeling a bit better. “I’d miss you too.”

They lay there for a moment longer, the initial awkwardness giving way to a comfortable silence. Until Y/N, unable to resist tormenting Spencer, said, “Did you want a hand with that?”

“What??” he half-squeaked, half-screamed.

Y/N threw her head back, laughing hard in the early morning light shining in.

“You’re so mean,” Spencer muttered, his face a deep shade of red.

“Aww, did you really want me to?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not answering that,” he replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“All in good time, young grasshopper,” Y/N said, patting his arm playfully.

Spencer, rolling his eyes and unable to stand Y/N’s antics any longer, got out of bed to get ready for the day. He needed coffee, and maybe 50,000 shots of alcohol. What he failed to consider was that he was still hard, in loose gray sweats, and that he was sharing a room with Y/N, the worst person, ever.

“Whoa baby! I didn’t realize you were holding out on me! Get back here!” Y/N called out, patting the bed and laughing even harder.

Spencer, mortified, ran to the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to calm his racing heart. The cold shower earlier had been nothing compared to the icy plunge he felt now, thanks to Y/N’s relentless teasing.

Inside the bathroom, he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t deny that a part of him enjoyed the playful banter, but another part of him was utterly overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. He needed to collect himself and face the day, starting with a much-needed cup of coffee.

Back in the room, Y/N was still chuckling to herself, thoroughly amused by Spencer's reactions. She began getting ready, her thoughts drifting to the upcoming events of the day and the unexpected pleasure of Spencer’s company. Despite her teasing, she was genuinely glad he was there.

As Spencer emerged from the bathroom, now somewhat composed, he glanced at Y/N, who was busy with her morning routine. “Truce?” he offered, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Truce,” Y/N agreed, smiling back at him. “For now.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they continued preparing for the day ahead. The morning light filled the room, promising a day full of possibilities and perhaps, a few more moments of unexpected connection.

—

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the vineyard as Y/N and Spencer wandered through the charming village, the scent of grapes and fresh earth filling the air. They didn’t have much to do in preparation for the wedding, so they decided to venture out in search of coffee. The village was picturesque, with cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and inviting cafés.

As they strolled, chatting about old memories and catching up, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a woman Y/N recognized all too well. Christa, one of the girls who used to bully Spencer in high school, stood before them. Adam had warned Y/N about all the mean girls and boys, just in case they had any younger siblings at the school.

“Oh my god! No way! It’s the baby freak and boarding school!” Christa exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock surprise and disdain.

Spencer immediately tensed, the old nickname hitting him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been called that in years. Y/N, feeling a surge of protectiveness, stepped forward.

“Christa!” Y/N exclaimed with a bright, exaggerated smile, moving in for an overly enthusiastic hug that left Christa visibly uncomfortable. Christa awkwardly patted Y/N’s back, clearly thrown off by the unexpected embrace.

“Uh, hi,” Christa muttered, her confidence wavering.

“How are you? What has it been, 15 years? You don’t look a day over 40,” Y/N said cheerfully.

“I’m 30,” Christa replied, her tone icy.

“Oh… well, sunscreen is your best friend!” Y/N said, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Christa’s face twisted in offense, while Spencer struggled to hide his laughter behind a cough.

“Baby freak… you look exactly the same. Still scaring everyone away with your freaky genius powers?” Christa sneered, her eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I–uh, no, I–” Spencer stammered, the old insecurities rushing back.

“Spencer, here,” Y/N said, emphasizing his name, “is not a baby, maybe compared to the looks of you. And he is not a freak, unless you want to talk about more private matters, but judging by the turn of your nose and the stick up your ass, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have no idea what I’m talking about. How long has it been since a real human touched you?”

Christa was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a retort. Finally, she sneered, “I bet Spencer’s never been touched by a human ever.”

Spencer looked down, his face turning red with embarrassment, feeling like the insecure 12-year-old all over again.

“Really? Like this?” Y/N said, pulling Spencer down into a kiss before Christa could say another word.

The kiss was brief but intense, and when Y/N pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide with surprise, his cheeks flushed. Christa stood there, stunned and utterly speechless, unable to come up with a reply.

Y/N turned back to Christa with a triumphant smile. “Awe, Christa, you look like a fish. Never speak to me or my boyfriend ever again, okay? Okay, sweetie. So good to see you!”

With that, Y/N took Spencer’s arm and led him away, leaving Christa standing in the middle of the street, fuming and defeated.

As they walked away, Spencer glanced over at Y/N, his heart still racing from the unexpected kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Y/N squeezed his arm gently, a warm smile on her face. “Anytime, Spencer. You deserve better than people like her.”

They continued their walk, the tension from the encounter melting away as they enjoyed each other’s company, feeling closer than ever before. The weekend had taken another unexpected turn, but this time, it was for the better.

—

After grabbing their coffee, Spencer and Y/N realized they still had plenty of time before they had to start getting ready for the wedding. The charm of Napa Valley beckoned, and they decided to indulge in one of the region’s finest offerings: wine tasting. The idea seemed perfect, a way to enjoy the beautiful vineyard and create some new memories.

They made their way back to the vineyard and signed up for a tour. As they strolled through the rows of grapevines, Y/N kept her hand looped around Spencer's arm. It felt natural, a comforting closeness that neither of them felt the need to mention. The guide led them through the process of winemaking, from grape to glass, sharing interesting tidbits and answering questions.

Once the tour concluded, they were led to a private table on one of the many balconies the vineyard’s main building had to offer. The view was breathtaking, with rolling hills and endless rows of vines stretching out under the clear blue sky. A tasting flight of wine was set before them, each glass glistening with rich, inviting hues.

Y/N took a sip from the first glass, savoring the flavor before turning to Spencer. “So… about earlier,” she began, her voice soft.

Spencer nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Yeah. That was… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Y/N said, looking at him earnestly. “I just couldn’t stand her talking to you like that.”

Spencer shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t overstep. It was… nice. Surprising, but nice. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

Y/N blushed slightly, taking another sip of her wine. “Well, you deserved it. She was horrible.”

Spencer glanced at her, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. It’s been a long time since I felt… protected.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, you could have handled it really well all on your own. I just… wanted to make sure she knew she couldn’t mess with you.”

Spencer chuckled, relaxing more as he took a sip from his glass. “You definitely made that clear.”

They continued their tasting, discussing the nuances of each wine, but the earlier conversation had brought them even closer. The view, the wine, and the company made for a perfect moment, one that felt both nostalgic and new.

As they moved through the tasting flight, they found themselves laughing and reminiscing about old times, the tension from the earlier encounter long forgotten. The vineyard, with its serene beauty, provided the perfect backdrop for reconnecting, and they both felt a sense of peace and happiness that had been missing for too long.

Y/N looked out over the balcony, her hand still resting lightly on Spencer's arm. “I’m glad we’re here,” she said softly. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “It’s like coming home.”

They clinked their glasses together, a silent toast to new beginnings and cherished memories. The weekend held more surprises, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy each other’s company, letting the wine and the moment carry them away.

“Speaking of home… do you think you’d ever come back?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

“To Las Vegas?” Spencer replied, looking at her curiously.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, feeling somewhat hopeful.

Spencer took a moment, thinking it over. “I’ve never thought about it, really.”

“Oh, I guess if I left, I wouldn’t want to come back either,” Y/N said, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone.

“Y/N… it’s not that. There’s just nothing there for me anymore.”

“Yeah, nothing,” she said bitterly, sipping her wine.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant,” Spencer said quickly, his eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to pretend. We haven’t talked in over a decade. I can’t blame you,” Y/N said, looking down at her glass.

“Y/N–” Spencer began, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to head back and get ready. Can you give me an hour alone, please?” she asked, her voice strained.

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said softly, his heart sinking.

Y/N stood up, giving him a small, tight smile before walking away. Spencer watched her go, feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and now he felt the weight of their years apart more heavily than ever. He sat there for a moment longer, staring out at the vineyard, before deciding to take a walk to clear his mind.

The serene beauty of the vineyard provided some solace, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. He realized how much he had missed her, how much he had missed having someone who understood him. The years had created a distance between them, but he hoped that this weekend could be a step towards bridging that gap.

As he wandered back to the room an hour later, he knocked softly on the door, giving Y/N the space she had asked for. He hoped they could find a way to reconnect, to rebuild the bond they once had. The weekend was far from over, and he was determined to make things right.

— 

By the time the ceremony rolled around, Y/N and Spencer hadn't talked yet but took their seats next to each other. Spencer tried to apologize again, but Y/N brushed him off, telling him it was okay. The ceremony was beautiful and didn't drag on too long. Y/N cried, and Spencer put his arm around her shoulders, letting her cry on him.

They took their seats for dinner after, being seated again with her parents and close family. Though her parents weren't there for the rehearsal dinner, they were now. Spencer was extremely nervous, having never gotten a good read on Y/N and Adam's parents before. All he knew was that they shipped their young children off to boarding school and then left them home with hired staff more often than not.

As the first course was being served, Y/N's mother eyed Spencer with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. “Y/N, who is this man you brought?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Mother, this is Spencer Reid. He grew up with us, don’t you remember?”

Her mother pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Her father, catching the exchange, leaned in. “Watch your tone, that’s your mother.”

“I’m 24,” Y/N said, her voice steady but strained.

“And you’re still our child,” her father retorted.

“I’ve been financially independent since I was 18. What are you going to do? Take my salad fork?” Y/N shot back, her frustration evident.

Her parents rolled their eyes in unison. “No wonder it’s your brother getting married and not you,” her mother sneered. “You were always so bitter. Determined to hold grudges.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open, ready to fire back, but Spencer quickly intervened. “Actually, Y/N and I have been together for what, 2 years, darling?” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Y/N was momentarily stunned, but then a wicked smile crept across her face. “Yes, baby. And that present you gave me for our anniversary was so… sensual. I can still feel it,” she said, biting her lip for effect.

Spencer tried to contain his laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked at Y/N. 

Her mother’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Y/N L/N! You are incorrigible.”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t care,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye.

The table fell into an awkward silence, but Spencer felt a sense of triumph. He had managed to diffuse the situation and even brought a smile to Y/N’s face. As the dinner progressed, they exchanged knowing glances, each feeling a little more at ease despite the tension surrounding them.

As soon as people were encouraged to get up from their tables, Y/N and Spencer shot up. Their first stop was the open bar, both needing a drink after enduring a whole dinner with her parents.

“Can we get an appletini and a sex on the beach?” Spencer ordered, his voice only shaking slightly.

“Spence!” Y/N yelled, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m so proud of you!”

He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment. They stood at the bar, sipping their drinks as they observed the crowd. The lively atmosphere was a welcome contrast to the tension they had just experienced. Y/N’s eyes were on the couples dancing, and Spencer remembered what she had said earlier about wanting someone to swing her around the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” Spencer asked, turning to her.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I know you don’t like to dance,” Y/N replied, her gaze lingering on the dance floor.

“Y/N… I want to dance with you. Do you want to dance with me?” Spencer asked, his eyes earnest.

“Yes, very much,” Y/N said, her face lighting up with a smile.

Spencer set his drink down and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The music was a soft, romantic melody, perfect for a slow dance. As they found a spot, Spencer placed his hands gently on her waist, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. They swayed to the music, the world around them fading as they focused on each other.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this,” Y/N said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Me neither,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

Y/N’s eyes were shining. “You’ve always been special to me, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You too, Y/N.”

Her heart raced at his bold gesture, not expecting such a move from Spencer. They stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs, enjoying the moment and the connection that had been rekindled. Eventually, Spencer took Y/N's hand and led her away from the floor.

“Spence… you’re holding my hand,” Y/N said, glancing down at their intertwined fingers.

“I am,” Spencer replied, his voice steady.

“You don’t do that,” she pointed out, her heart still fluttering.

“I don’t,” he agreed, looking at her with a small smile.

“But you are,” she continued, her eyes searching his.

“Right again,” Spencer said, his smile widening.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because I like you,” Spencer admitted, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

Y/N felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in her chest. “You… you like me?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I like you. I guess I was just too afraid to admit it before.”

A smile slowly spread across Y/N's face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I like you too, Spencer. I always have, since we were kids.”

Spencer's face lit up with relief and happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” Y/N confirmed, squeezing his hand.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as they gazed at each other. The years of separation and unspoken feelings seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of their rekindled connection.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” Spencer asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her smile never wavering.

They walked hand in hand out to the vineyard’s garden, the night air cool and refreshing. The walk through the garden was very much reminiscent of the last time they saw each other. The path was lined with twinkling lights, casting a soft glow over the grapevines and flowers.

“Did you really not know I liked you all those years ago? I was so obvious. I did everything to get your attention,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No, I really didn’t know. I just thought you were really nice!” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“And you liked Adam,” Y/N stated, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips.

“I–I, what??” Spencer stammered, caught off guard.

“It’s okay, Spence, he doesn’t know,” Y/N said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I could see it in the way you looked at him. It’s fine, really,” Y/N said, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward back then.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “You didn’t. I just wish I had known how to tell you how I felt. I was always so nervous around you.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. “I was nervous around you too. I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I guess we were both a bit clueless.”

They laughed together, the sound carrying through the quiet night. As they continued their walk, the memories of the past seemed to blend with the present, creating a sense of closure and a new beginning.

“Do you think things would have been different if we had talked about it back then?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Maybe,” Y/N said thoughtfully. “But we were just kids, and you had so much ahead of you.”

Spencer nodded, feeling content with her answer. They reached a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, the stars twinkling above them. Y/N leaned her head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I would move back home,” Spencer said softly.

“What?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with warmth and curiosity.

“I would move back home,” Spencer repeated, his voice steady. “If it meant being with you eventually. I’d come back to Las Vegas.”

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and emotion. “Spencer, you don’t have to do that for me. We aren’t even dating.”

“I know,” he said, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. “But I want to. You were always like home to me, Y/N. Being with you feels right.”

“I would never ask you to give up your job; you worked so hard to get there,” Y/N shook her head.

“But I—”

“Stop,” Y/N interrupted, pulling away from his touch. Her heart raced, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. “This is too much, Spencer. We’ve just reconnected, and now you’re talking about uprooting your entire life for me. It’s overwhelming.”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand dropping to his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “I appreciate that, really. But we need to take things slow. I need time to process all of this.”

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Of course. I understand. We’ll take it slow.”

There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Y/N felt a mix of guilt and relief, unsure of how to navigate the intense emotions swirling inside her.

After a few moments, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just care about you a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching. “I care about you too, Spencer. But let’s just see where things go, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though the tension between them remained palpable.

They spent the rest of the evening in a subdued silence, both lost in their thoughts. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. But she also knew she needed to follow her instincts and not rush into anything that didn’t feel right.

That night, the walk back to their room was a silent torture. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Spencer desperately wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how.

When they finally reached their room, Y/N wordlessly grabbed a pillow and placed it between their bodies on the bed, creating a physical barrier that mirrored the emotional distance between them. The gesture was small, but it felt like a chasm had opened up.

Spencer lay on his side, staring at the wall, his heart aching. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line. The fear of pushing her further away was paralyzing.

What was far worse, was when Spencer woke up to an empty bed and an empty hotel room. Panic set in as he called out her name, hoping she was just in the bathroom or getting breakfast. But there was no response.

The reality of the situation hit him hard. Once again, he had managed to lose one of the only people who ever felt like home. The weight of that loss settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong.

The silence of the room was deafening, and the loneliness was overwhelming. Spencer knew he had to find a way to make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost and alone.

—

Downstairs, Spencer was checking out when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around to see Adam bounding towards him.

“Hey buddy!” Adam, as broad as ever, swept him into a hug, picking him up in his excitement.

“Whoa! Hi!” Spencer laughed, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting.

“How are you? Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry it’s been so crazy, I can’t believe I almost missed you!”

“Yeah, hah. Glad I ran into you,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his composure despite the turmoil inside.

Adam, unaware of Spencer's inner turmoil, continued with a big grin, “So, I heard you had to bunk with old Petit Chou.”

“Y/N? Yeah, I did,” Spencer replied, the nickname bringing back a wave of memories.

“How was it? Was it like old times?” Adam asked, his tone cheerful and curious.

“Um, no, not really. We got along a lot better,” Spencer admitted, a small, sad smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, you dog! Did you sleep with my sister?” Adam's tone was teasing, but he looked extremely pleased.

Spencer's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We just... caught up.”

Adam laughed, clapping Spencer on the back. “Well, I’m glad you two reconnected. She always had a soft spot for you, you know.”

Spencer forced a smile, trying to push away the sadness. “Yeah, me too. She’s... she’s great.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Adam teased in a big brotherly fashion.

“So, I thought you’d be gone by now on your honeymoon?” Spencer asked.

“Oh no, Lizzie wanted to have some time as newlyweds in our house first. You know, get settled in, put all the presents away and such before we leave. She really thinks everything through,” Adam explained, love evident in the way he talked about Elizabeth.

“She sounds wonderful. I’m so happy for you, man,” Spencer said sincerely.

“Thank you, little dude. Are there any lucky ladies in your life? Lucky lads?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Huh, no,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Dude, you should have totally made a move on Y/N! She yapped about you for years after you left. When I told her you were gonna be here, she practically threw away her suitcase and bought all new clothes, wanting to make a good impression or something,” Adam said with a grin.

“What?” Spencer choked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, man, she had it baddd. It was kind of cute,” Adam chuckled.

“Oh, I had no idea,” Spencer said, feeling a little bit of shock and regret.

“Well, if you’re ever in Vegas, you know who to call,” Adam said, clapping Spencer on the back.

“Yeah... where are you living nowadays?” Spencer asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Georgia! Met sweet little Lizzie at Florida State and followed her home after graduation. Never left,” Adam replied, his eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s great, Adam. I’m really happy for you,” Spencer said, genuinely pleased for his friend.

“Thanks, man. And seriously, don’t be a stranger. If you’re ever in the area, you’ve got a place to stay,” Adam said, giving Spencer another friendly hug.

As they finished checking out, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of Y/N. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air and understand what had gone wrong. But for now, he was grateful for the brief distraction that Adam had provided. It gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right.

—

Y/N went back home, feeling the weight of the weekend pressing heavily on her. She barely had time to sit down and process everything when her best friend and roommate, Billie, showed up at her bedroom door, armed with snacks and drinks.

“Hey, thought you could use some company,” Billie said, giving Y/N a warm hug as they entered.

“Thanks, Billie,” Y/N replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

They settled on the couch, surrounded by an array of comfort food and drinks. Billie opened a bag of chips and handed it to Y/N. “So, tell me everything.”

Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before recounting the events of the weekend. She told Billie about reconnecting with Spencer, the intense emotions, and the difficult conversation that left her feeling lost and confused.

“I feel so silly,” Y/N said, heaving a big sigh. “Mourning something I can’t have. We live on opposite sides of the country. How would it ever work?”

Billie reached over, giving Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. Feelings don’t follow logic. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if it seems impractical.”

“I just... I really thought maybe we could make it work,” Y/N said, her voice breaking.

“Hey, you never know what the future holds. Maybe things will change, or maybe you’ll find a way to be together despite the distance,” Billie said, their tone comforting.

“But what if we don’t? What if it’s just not meant to be?” Y/N asked, her eyes searching Billie’s for answers.

“Then it's not, you can't control what's out of your hands,” Billie said, offering a comforting smile.

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. While the ache in Y/N’s heart didn’t completely disappear, she felt a sense of peace over the situation.

— 

Spencer wanted to reach out to Y/N, knowing he couldn't even use the excuse of not having her phone number—one of his best friends could hack the Pentagon for fun if she wanted. But he didn’t want to face the rejection he had a feeling would be coming his way. He knew it was impractical: his job was demanding, they lived nowhere near each other, and on top of that, they didn’t even know if they would work. Maybe the magic between them only existed in the air of the wedding.

They went weeks in radio silence, both resigning to move on. They had gone 12 years without each other; they could handle some more. That is until Spencer found something in one of his luggage pockets. He was repacking his go-bag after returning from a case when he opened a pocket that he did not often use, planning to put a fresh pack of gum in there.

He quickly took the note out and opened it, seeing it was in handwriting that he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped a beat as he began to read:

Spencer,

I’m sorry for leaving unannounced. I truly loved seeing you this weekend. It was wonderful to catch up after so long apart and to see that you are still the same sweet, loving guy. I hope you never change.

I left without saying goodbye because of my own issues, not because of anything you said or did. Please understand that. You mean so much to me, and I would hate to jeopardize our friendship over something silly like this.

If you’re ever in Vegas, you always have a place to stay.

Y/N

[storiesforallfandoms]

i need someone older ~ william afton;five nights at freddy's

word count: 3794

request?: no

description: after a bad breakup, she finds herself becoming more and more attracted to her much older boss

pairing: william afton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is mid 20s, afton is 50s), power imbalance technically (but it's fine), bit of an au (so he doesn't unalive anyone in this one)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I stormed into work, really pushing it for time. I had slept past my alarm and was incredibly reluctant to get out of bed. After the night I had, the last thing I wanted was to work eight hours in a children's restaurant, with screaming kids and the animatronics playing the same three songs all day. But I needed the money, and hopefully a distraction.

"Whoa, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" my coworker, Adam, asked.

"Fuck off," I muttered. "I gotta go change into my uniform. Can you punch me in so I'm not late?"

"Yeah. Be quick, though. Afton's here."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't even know our names. He's not going to know I'm supposed to be on the clock."

I changed as quickly as I could while having limited space in a tiny bathroom stall. I stuffed my clothes into my backpack and did a quick double check in the mirror to make sure I was work appropriate. I wasn't paying enough attention as I stepped out of the bathroom and managed to literally run into someone who was walking past. I cursed under my breath as I looked up and came face to face with the fucking owner of Freddy Fazbear's.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

"|'m so sorry, Mr. Afton," I said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Where's the fire, though? You seem like you're in a hurry."

How do I answer this without getting in shit? "I'm just, uh...trying not to be late. I had to change, and bring my bag to my locker."

William looked down at his watch. I felt my heart starting to pound.

"Cutting it a little close there," he commented.

"I know."

My grip on my bag had tightened as I braced for the worst. I had never met William before. Despite owning the restaurant, he was rarely ever around. Whenever he was, he was usually tucked away in his office for most of the day and only ever spoke with our manager. Due to this, I didn't know if he would be a hard ass who was about to write me up for running late. After the events of the previous night, I didn't think I'd be able to take getting reprimanded today.

He took me by surprise when he smiled and said, "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

I nodded, unable to form any words, and scurried around him to the lockers.

Adam looked at me when I finally returned to the floor. "What took you so long?"

"I ran into Afton," I responded.

His eyes widened. "Did he give you shit?"

"Luckily no. Just told me not to let it happen again."

"I warned you that he was here."

I flipped Adam off when I was sure none of the kids could see me.

As if my day couldn't get any worse, my manager came to tell me that I was stationed on the prize counter for the day. The prize counter was probably the worst part of the restaurant. There was never any downtime at the counter. Either there was rowdy children hopped up on candy and pizza screaming about wanting toys they didn't have enough tickets for, or there were tired parents wanting to buy tokens for the arcade games while their rowdy kids were nearby screaming. Not to mention it was right next to the main stage, so the sound of screaming children was only matched by the sound of pre-recorded music coming from the animatronics' speakers. And to top it all off, the closing duties for the prize counter took longer than any other section of the restaurant.

It was the worst section to work, and I already wanted to leave just knowing that was my station for the day.

The only plus side was that being kept busy made the day fly by. But the usual craziness of Freddy Fazbear's was extra unbearable to a point where I felt myself on the edge of tears numerous times. I knew it was going to be a bad idea for me to be at work, and I was really regretting coming in.

I let out a sigh of relief as the last family finally left and the animatronics finally powered down. Adam laughed at me as I put my head down on the cool glass that held the prizes. "You're giving yourself more work to do."

I looked at the smudge I had left on the glass before glaring up at him. "I don't think my one smudge is making things any worse."

"Okay seriously, what is up with you? You've been grumpy all day."

I sighed and shook my head. "I had a bad night."

"Do you want me to help you close up so you can get out of here sooner?"

I gave him a look. "We both know you don't actually want that."

"But I'd do it to help you."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. My annoyance and desire to leave will make me work faster."

Adam didn't fight me on it anymore. He said goodnight and clocked out. Once I heard the front door close and lock, I immediately got to work with cleaning. That was the easiest part as all I had to do was clean the glass of the prize case and pick up the discarded tickets from the floor. When I finished that, I started counting the cash in order to close it off. That was supposed to be another easy task, but my mind being anywhere but the task at hand made it so much harder.

Restocking the prizes was the hardest part. I had been on my own for nearly an hour, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I was trying to rush out of there but found myself fumbling a little extra. I was trying to dump a box of tiny soldier toys into their respective bin when the box slipped from my hands and landed on its side, the toys scattering all over the floor.

It was my breaking point. Everything finally came crashing down around me and the flood gates finally opened. I lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back against the counter. I buried my head into my hands and began to sob.

"Seems like a bit of a strong reaction to dropping some toys."

I jumped and looked towards where the voice had come from. I was sure I was the only one left in the restaurant, everyone else having left while I was doing my closing duties. Even my manager had left, giving me the keys and the code to the security system. But, turns out, I was wrong, because there was William Afton leaning over the counter to look down at me.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping the tears from my face. "S-Sorry Mr. Afton. I-I didn't realize - "

"Hey, it's okay," he said, cutting me off and speaking in a soft voice. "What's going on? You seem stressed."

"It's...personal things. I shouldn't have let it interfere with my work."

"Fuck the professional shit for a second here. Forget I'm your boss, forget we're on the clock. If there's anything going on that you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

I leaned against the counter across from him. "It's stupid."

"You're crying, so I don't think it's that stupid."

I sighed. "My boyfriend broke up with me last night, after admitting he's been cheating on me for the last three months."

William whistled in response. "That's tough."

I nodded. "It just...came out of nowhere. We've been together for three years, moved in together last year. There was no signs that anything was wrong. I didn't even suspect that he was cheating. He came home last night and suddenly told me everything. Packed a bag and went to his...I guess...girlfriend's house. Told me he'd be back at some point this week to get his stuff."

Tears were stinging my eyes again. I looked away so William wouldn't see me cry anymore. Upon looking down, I realized my bare arms were on the glass of the prize counter, leaving smudges again. I cursed under my breath and turned to grab the cleaner again.

"Here, let me," William said, reaching for the cleaner. "You pick up the toy soldiers and I'll help restock the prizes once I finish this."

I was a little shocked, but definitely was not about to argue over getting help. We worked much quicker as a team and, finally, I was able to clock out to leave. I stood by as William set the security system and locked the gates.

"Thank you for helping me," I said.

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "It seemed you needed help, and I wasn't about to let one of my employees struggle while I was on the property." I smiled at him and started for my car. "For what it's worth - " I paused and turned back to him. " - your ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot. You seem like a great woman. Don't beat yourself up over him."

He smiled and turned to walk towards his own car. I watched him go, surprised by what he said. Even through the cold night air, I could feel my face burning.

~~~~~~

William was around more after that. Not just in his office, but he was actually out on the floor. Everyone was noticing his increased presence, but I found myself noticing it in a different way. Whenever William was near, my eyes were practically glued to him. I found it difficult to concentrate whenever he was around. Luckily, everyone else was so distracted by his presence that they didn't notice how useless I had become.

It was wrong. I knew that. Having a crush on a coworker was bad enough, but a crush on your boss was a whole other level of bad. Especially when your boss is so much older. I had no idea whether or not he was even married or had kids for God's sake!

But every time I saw him, I couldn't stop my heart from racing. I wanted him in a way I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop myself.

During one of my shifts, I was put on the serving section. Serving was easy enough - take orders, bring food, check on tables. The hardest part was trying not to trip over a child running past while carrying a whole pizza on a hot tray. Most of us had learned the art of scanning the area before we walked, but sometimes you just don't notice quick enough and end up surprised by one of those little fuckers.

One of the cooks passed a pizza through the pass to me and told me the table number. I took the tray and balanced it against my shoulder, something I found was the easiest way to balance the bigger trays. The restaurant wasn't too busy, but there were still enough kids running around that I took in my surroundings before I started to walk. I was making a mental note about two kids who were stood by the stage, dancing to the song that Freddy was "singing", and didn't notice another kid who was racing from one of the playrooms in front of me. I stopped suddenly, just short of running into him, but found myself losing my balance after he ran past.

I felt two hands grab hold of my waist, holding me upright and saving me from a very embarrassing scene. When I turned to thank my savior, I came to face the blue eyes I had been trying to desperately to avoid today.

"That could've been a disaster," William said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Th-thank you," I managed to stutter out. I could still feel the heat of his hands against my waist, like they were burning through the clothes and searing my skin. I almost forgot the heavy tray of pizza I was carrying in that moment.

When he let me go, his eyes still trained on me, I quickly turned and hurried to my table. I tried not to seem so flustered, but I knew I had failed. I stuttered through every sentence before finally dismissing myself to the prize counter where one of my other coworkers, Beth, was snickering to herself.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Don't ask," I responded.

"Oh, I'm asking. Are you all hot and bothered for Afton?!"

"Shh!" I snapped, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one had heard. Not like anyone would over the usual noise of the restaurant.

"Oh, you so are!" she said. "Holy shit, (Y/N), you know that's bad news right? He's literally our boss."

"I know he is. I'm not stupid. But...I can't help it!"

"At least he would be more of a gentleman than that small dick asshole you call your ex." She looked over her shoulder as the front door to the pizzeria opened. When she looked back, her eyes were wide. "Speak of the devil."

I looked over to see none other than the small dick asshole himself, Josh, walking in. I wished I could disappear into the floor and never be seen again. I tried to turn and walk away before he spotted me, but no luck.

"(Y/N)!"

I groaned and turned back to him. "What do you want, Josh?"

"I was just over getting the last of my stuff - "

"Awesome, I do not care. If you've come to give me your key back, you could've just left it on the dining room table."

"No, I came to say that I couldn't find my Springsteen album."

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "So you came all this way to...what? Ask me what I did with it? I have no idea, Josh, I threw everything that was yours into boxes and garbage bags. If it's not in there, you might've left it in your car or at your new girlfriend's house."

"It's not any of those places." I wasn't sure if I should've been hurt about the fact that he wasn't addressing my last comment directly, but I definitely was a little bit.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I wanted to see when you were going to be off work and maybe I could come by to look for it with you."

I scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Josh, I don't know what the fuck happened to your album, but you're sure as hell not coming over to the house. That is not your place anymore, and you're very much not welcome there."

"Why can't we be adults about this?"

"You lost the right to being adult about this the second you decided to cheat on me! And how dare you say that shit, but then come down to my place of work to try and, what, harass me into letting you back into my home? We're over, Josh. I don't ever want to see you again. If I find any of your shit left at the house, I'll drop it in the trash."

"What seems to be the problem here?"

I suppressed the urge to groan again. As if things couldn't get any more complicated.

"No problem, Mr. Afton," I said, turning to face William with the best, innocent smile I could muster. "Just an...unwelcome guest."

William looked at me for a moment before letting his eyes wander to Josh. I didn't have to say much else for him to recognize who the "unwelcome guest" was and I could see anger in his eyes.

"Well, time to get back to work, (Y/N)," he said to me. "Your customers are waiting."

I nodded and ducked away from the situation. As I walked away, Josh called after me, "That's fine, I'll be waiting for you to get off! We can talk more then!"

"Like hell you will."

A collective gasp from the parents and Beth cause me to spin around to see William had grabbed hold of the collar of Josh's shirt. William was easily a head taller than Josh, so even if the act wasn't meant to be intimidating, he definitely looked intimidating. I don't think I've ever seen such fear on Josh's face. William turned Josh around and basically dragged him towards the front door.

"If I see you back here, I will have your ass arrested," he said as he threw Josh out of the restaurant. "Are we clear, punk?"

He didn't wait for a response as he pulled the door shut. I could see Josh standing there, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face. William re-entered the main area, still looking angry, but tried to put on his best customer service smile as he addressed his new crowd. "Sorry everyone. Just an unruly customer. Sorry for any trouble."

To me he added, "Come see me in my office, please."

Beth and I exchanged a look before I followed William towards his office. I was so sure he was going to get upset with me. Not only had I brought my personal shit to the restaurant (even though that wasn't my fault), but it had also resulted in a not so great scene in front of the customers. People get to talking, and I was sure that this story was going to be spread through town before the night was out.

The moment I stepped into his office, I set in on the apologies. "Mr. Afton, I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming. I've been trying to avoid him while he's moving his stuff out and I guess he was getting tired of that or wanted to poke me one last time or something - "

"Did he hurt you?"

I paused my rambling to look up at him. All anger was gone from his face and had instead been replaced by concern.

"What?" I asked.

"Did he do anything to you just then?"

I shrugged. "Not physically. He was definitely still trying to mess with me mentally, though."

William nodded. "Well, he's not welcome on the property anymore. If you see him, you have my full permission to contact the police immediately."

"I...I don't think that's entirely necessary."

"I don't mean to sound like an old man or anything, but I've met plenty of assholes like your ex, (Y/N). You give them an inch and they take a mile. If you don't deal with this now, he will continue to come back and harass you. I don't want that for you. You don't deserve that."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. I was realizing how close we were now. We were mere inches away from one another. If I wanted to, I could just reach out and touch him right now; grab him. I could've kissed him right then and there if I really wanted to. Who would've known?

As if reading my mind, William suddenly reached out and cupped my face. Before I could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on mine. It was kind of ironic, the fact that I had just been thinking about doing this exact thing, but now that it was happening it was like my brain wasn't sure how to comprehend the situation.

William pulled away just as quickly as he had initiated the kiss. He backed away from me, suddenly worried. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have done that."

In response, I pretty well threw myself at him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him with such force that it pushed him back into his desk. He positioned himself so that he was sat on his desk and basically pulled me into his lap. It was risky, anyone could've come by and caught us, but something about that just made the experience so much better; so much hotter.

William pulled away first again. I tried to chase his lips with mine, but he pushed me back, chuckling at my eagerness.

"Hold on," he said. "There's some things we have to discuss before this goes any further."

"Please don't tell me you're married," I said.

He laughed. "No, I'm not married. Divorced with a 10 year old daughter. That was the first thing I wanted to discuss, in case single dad is a dealbreaker."

"Very much not a dealbreaker."

"So...the age thing is also not a dealbreaker then?"

I shook my head. "If anything, I think that makes it kinda hotter."

A grin spread on his face. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. But there is the big issue of the fact that I'm your boss."

It felt like I had been shoved off of cloud nine and come crashing down to earth. For a moment, I had forgotten that part. He was right, that was the biggest issue here. Kind of hard to get around it unless I ended up quitting, which I really did not want to do. It was nearly impossible to find a good paying job these days, and I needed this now more than ever since Josh wasn't going to be splitting rent with me anymore.

I climbed off of William's lap and stood across from him. "I guess...that is a big issue, huh?"

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into anything, and I don't want anyone to look at you any different because you're dating the boss."

I raised a playful eyebrow at him. "You jumped to dating pretty quickly there."

His smile was a little more bashful. "What can I say? I'm old school. I don't believe in hooking up or anything like that. If there's anything going on here, I want you to be able to classify it as a relationship."

In that moment, I found myself wondering why I hadn't always dated older men. I had wasted so much of my time on guys my age when I could've been dating someone who was actually a gentleman and cared about me and my feelings.

"Why don't we see where things go with this, and then we can tackle that big elephant in the room?" I asked.

"I think I can agree to that."

I took a step closer and said, "I really want to kiss you again, though."

He laughed and met me halfway, standing from his desk and taking my face in his hands again. When he kissed me, I felt like I was flying right back on to cloud nine.

[chronicbeans]

Nurse's Office

Needed to write a platonic Alastor x Nurse Reader Angst fic after I saw that fight between him and Adam like holy hell.

TW: Injuries and Blood, Medical Tools/Procedures, Anxiety/Slight Panic, Spiraling Mental Health

So... When you got started at the Hazbin Hotel, you didn't expect to be a nurse there. Sure, you have the skills, but you usually don't have a nurse working a hotel. Now, though, you completely understand why they'd want to hire you for that, and not the room service position you applied for. Over the little time you've been here, you've seen more injuries that you could've ever imagined at a single hotel, with so few guests.

After the fight with the angels, though? You have been working on overdrive. You've had to patch everyone up, and you can't even find Alastor. You keep doing a head count after every person you treat, seeing if you can find him, but he doesn't show up. Your anxiety only gets worse once you check on Vaggie, the last person you had to help, and he still didn't make an appearance.

You don't want to assume the worst, though, so you grab some medical supplies, put them into a bag, then head out into the debris. He has to be somewhere. Even if he's not alive, he still deserves to be found. He also couldn't have gotten far! Yeah, he kind of... disappeared at one point...? You didn't get a good look, but he did disappear from your sight. But you don't suspect he'd have went far from the hotel while injured. Just far enough to be safe. That's what you hope, at least...

You continue wandering around for a few hours, your legs feeling exhausted after a while. Climbing over all the rubble, breathing in some of the settling dust, and straining your eyes to see up ahead is tiring... that, and you keep scraping your hands and knees on the sharp rocks and broken concrete. The most disheartening part, though, is that you still haven't seen him... Then, you spot it.

A tiny little splatter of blood.

Then, another splatter nearby...

And another...

Yes, a trail! You don't know who it's going to lead to, but you can see some lights in the distance. It at least leads somewhere. You quickly begin to follow it, seeing the red light get brighter and brighter. The radio tower comes into view. You know that it has to be Alastor, at this point. Why hadn't you thought of it sooner? You climb down the rubble, beginning to make your way over to the ruined tower ahead of you.

As you get close to the bottom hatch, you hear some footsteps against the floor. Immediately, you knock on the hatch, making your presence known. "Alastor! It's (Y/N)! I'm coming in there! If you're on the door, you better get off. Don't even try to stop me from getting in, either, because I'll climb through one of the windows if I have to." You pause, hearing the footsteps stop for a moment. After a few seconds, you crawl into the radio tower.

The place is a mess, to say the least... which, you expected. You stand up, then immediately scan the room for Alastor. It's a bit dark, and knowing him, he's probably going to try to hide, somehow. He hates being seen as weak, and from all the blood you've seen so far, he's gotten injured. Badly.

"Alastor? I know you're in here. I heard you walking." You walk around the room, checking every corner. Then, you notice an oddly moving shadow, alongside a puddle of blood. You walk over to it, frowning. "I know you're there. Come on. I'm here to help." You sigh as the shadow makes a little grunt noise, much like a deer would. You then cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at it. Looks like you'll have to appeal to his ego a little.

"How do you think people would feel if you, the great Radio Demon, died here alone in the shambles of his radio tower?" The shadow grows quiet as you say this, and before you know it, Alastor appears before you. He looks terrible, holding his stomach with one arm and the broken remains of his microphone in his other hand. You take a step towards him, but he backs away a bit.

"I'm fine, dear... It's nothing I can't handle. Just give me some time to regain my energy, then I-" You shake your head instantly, gesturing to his wound. "No, Alastor! Look at you. You almost died! Sure, maybe you can regenerate, I don't know... but I spent an hour or so looking for you, with the sole intention of helping you! I didn't come here for you to tell me "No, I don't need help, even though I'm severely wounded"! I came here to assist you."

You watch his eyes widen, his already strained grin becoming even more strained. His ears then pull back, the look in his eyes becoming more distressed. He mutters something, before nodding. Then, he leans against the wall, before slowly easing himself to the floor. "Fine, dear. If you truly came all this way, I guess it would be rude if I said no to your help." You are a bit shocked he gave up so easily, as well as how uneasy he looks. You decide to just help him, though.

You crouch next to him, taking out your medical tools from your bag. "You're definitely going to need stitches... my healing magic can only do so much, but it should work better if I close the wound first." You smile gently, before you point to him. "Though, I'm going to have to, at least, unbutton your shirt and coat to do so. Are you comfortable with that? I know you are very iffy about being touched..."

Alastor then begins to show more visible signs of discomfort, his eyebrows furrowing, and a slight static hum droning from somewhere nearby. You pick up on it, beginning to think aloud. "I can try to find some way to maneuver around the fabric, instead, since it was cut open-" "No. No. I trust you, dear." You blink a few times, wondering why he is acting so oddly. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, dear. I know you well enough to trust you." He then pauses, before quickly adding "You're a medical professional, after all. You've probably seen more than an upper torso, before. I trust you to not be a degenerate."

You simply chuckle, nodding. "You better! I'd say we're good friends, after all." You then quickly unbutton the clothing, before grabbing some sterile gloves and disinfectant. As you put the gloves on, you hear him mutter something, once again. Then, when you grab a set of tweezers and a cotton ball, he makes an odd comment. "We're great friends, yes...? If I told you a secret, you'd keep it, right?" You nod as you pick the cotton ball up with the needle, cover it in disinfectant, then begin to disinfectant the wound. "Yeah. You can tell me. It'll probably keep you distracted from any pain you feel, too."

Instead of a hiss of pain, the static noise grows loud for a moment. Then, it quiets down a bit as he talks. "I'm not entirely sure if you know this, already, but I made a deal... My soul is owned by someone else. I regret it more than anything..." You let out a little hum, your expression changing to one of shock. You grab the suture needle, as well as some thread. "Why are you telling me this?"

"(Y/N), my dear... I trust you more than many others. I've seen you working in that nurse's office of yours. You care more than the average sinner about others. Almost to a hilarious degree. I can imagine you patching up a soldier on one side of a battle and sending them out, then immediately do the same with someone from their enemy's side." He then laughs, before coughing a bit. "You care... but don't care when it comes to the right things to interest me. I trust you to not care about this, even if it means you'll keep secrets from me."

You nod, before gently smiling. "I'll keep it a secret... I know others could hold this against you and use it for an advantage. So, I won't say a word. Plus, you're right. I'm a bit of a chaotic middle ground. I don't like taking sides." You then get the needle into position, beginning to actually sew him up. "So, tell me... Is there anything else you're anxious about?"

His ears flick, the static growing once more. Then, it dies down again. "I don't want to be remembered as an altruist... I don't want to be seen as someone who had died for that hotel and his friends. I know that there's probably some people there who believe I died... and knowing Vox, he probably found some way to watch what happened. That man is practically obsessed with me, after all, dear!" He laughs, again, causing you to have to pause your suturing. After a few seconds, he begins coughing more. He sounds genuinely upset, despite his laughing.

"Why wouldn't you like that?" Alastor seems to disregard your question, instead beginning to talk about his deal once more. "There has to be an exit to that deal... a loophole. Something so I can get out of it..." You begin to continue, almost done with your work. "Are you sure...? What was it?" "I'm sure, and it's private matters."

You finish up, thing up the last suture's knot. Then, you take off your gloves, putting on a fresh pair, and grab the bandages. "... Alastor, are you alright...?" He looks to you, his eyes wide. "Why are you asking...? I am perfectly fine. Not a problem here. After I get free from my deal, I'll be-"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Alastor... you're frowning."

Alastor seems to grab at his cheeks for a moment, an odd, anxious grimace spreading across his face. Then, he begins forcing another grin. His tone is a lot more frantic, as if he has begun to spiral. Or, perhaps, just begun to outwardly express that he's spiraling. "I wasn't frowning. I am fine, dear." "You're not fine... but, if you say so, Alastor. I won't push the topic." You bandage his wound, before sighing. "Okay, so... This magic works oddly. You'll be-"

Before you can finish, he begins standing up. "Hey, wait-" He, holds a hand up, shushing you. Then, he points to himself. "I'll take care of the rest. You should handle your own wounds, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed your scrapes and cuts. You look like you've ran through a thornbush on your way over here." He begins buttoning up his shirt and coat, and you're shocked to see it repairing itself as he does so. Clearly, while your friend's power is limited, he's hiding more secrets than you expected...

"Fine... You better not leave me here by myself as I do so, though." You go from a crouching position, to a sitting one, as you clean off your tiny cuts. You hear him go quiet, for a moment, but can't see his expression due to your focus now being on yourself. After a few moments, though, you hear him chuckle.

For the first time, you hear his voice clearly, with no radio waves obscuring it. "Of course, dear. I never would dream of that. The others, though? Maybe..."

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [IF I DIE, YOU DIE AFTER ME] ¡! ❞

warnings: Angst, mentions of death and suicide

summary: All you want is for him to continue if the worst case will ever happen. Unfortunately he understood you wrong...or maybe right?

characters: Aether, Albedo, Al-haitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Capitano, Childe and Chongyun × Creator!Reader

word count: 1,805

parts: 1.

Aether

Aether is stunned by your words for a moment; they linger in the air like lingering notes from a lyre, their impact resonating far more deeply in his heart than they did in his hearing. "What... What do you mean?" he replies in a hoarse whisper; his brows knit together, and a flicker of panic flickers across his expression.

"When i die, you better die after me because...I cannot bare to see you go. You should live a good life long after I'm gone and find happiness." you tell him seriously. No way ever, you would be able to live after knowing he ever parished. Aether stares at you with bright, wet eyes as his mind attempts to grapple with your words. His lips part softly as he takes a deep inhale; his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he feels dizzy at the very thought of it. "But... But your Grace?" he protests weakly, as if he just can't accept it.

"You can't be gone. I can't live without you." A long moment of silence stretches between you and the Traveler. Aether stares down, his brows furrowed. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to entertain the idea, but he finally whispers the words.

"But your Grace... If you're gone, I don't want to live. I wouldn't know what to live for."

"And I wouldn't know what to die for."

Albedo

"That I can't do." he stands his ground, he makes his point clear. He'd always promised that he would be by your side. If you go, so must he. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but he'd rather perish by your side than to witness your death. He'd spent his life wishing to die by your side. The thought of doing so without you would make his heart crumble like the foundations of a ruined nation.

"Albedo wha-" but he interrupted, with the same confidence as before, "If you go, so must I. We're equal, remember? If you die, so will I. Together we will say our last farewells to one another."

"I would die for you, my grace."

Albedo seems adamant about that statement, but the way he delivers it seems to say more. It sounds less of a duty to be fulfilled, but more a blessing to be granted.

It's enough to make him stop and stare. He wants you to live, in truth, above all else. His thoughts of your safety are always paramount; more than his own. If you went down, he would follow, but the way he speaks, the conviction in which he's willing to go. It almost seems as though he'd welcome death himself.

"I would rather die with you, than live without you, my grace."

"Agreed."

Al-haitham

"Of course." He says it instantly without thought. Your word is law. He obeys in the most absolute way possible.

The prospect of losing you shatters his heart into a thousand pieces. He can't even bring himself to think about it, so he focuses intently on your slightest movement. "I could never dream of existing without you by my side," he continues, his voice growing unsteady. His mind is a whirlpool of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Unusual from how you know him. "Al-Haitham..."

The thought of being without you...He just can't.

"I would die for you." A small, hesitant pause. He feels his throat tighten, his breath catching in his throat. "I would...do anything to be with you, join you."

Your heart tightens, he can't mean what he says? He can't mean it, he has so much to lose, and its not you. His job, what he worked for to achieve. All you wanted was for him to continue this. "I would throw away everything for you," he whispers, as if he heard you. The words sound hoarse coming out of his dry lips. His throat feels tight, his chest feels heavy, his head feels hollow.

"Anything I've ever cared about, everything I've ever loved... All of it means nothing compared to being at your side. If you die first, I will die twice."

Ayato

His stomach tightens at the thought. His heart feels like it is about to explode as he considers that reality.

"I would follow you there," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper. "With every part of me, I would follow you."

"No. You know what I meant by my words." He understands your meaning, but he cannot bring himself to say the words outloud.

"I would not be able to bear life without you," he says quietly, his eyes avoiding your gaze. The words escape with an earnestness that he did not intend, and immediately he is struck by the depth of his love for you and his utter devotion to you.

Your words have shaken him. "I love you," he says softly. His voice is little more than a whisper. It feels natural to say. The words slip out from his mouth so effortlessly that they escape him before he can even think to stifle them.

He doesn't question it. He'd say it 100 times over if you needed to hear it.

"My love, I'm sorry. I wish I was what you wanted. I wish I had the bravery to live without you, but I'm a coward. But for now, we shall live till we both die."

Baizhu

"I would never let something so horrific befall you. If anything were to happen to you, I would perish before you. And as you know, I will do everything to prevent death, especially yours."

Baizhu leans forward to gently lay his forhead against yours, a gesture, one filled with warmth.

"You will not die. You will not." Baizhu emphasizes his words, the determination in his eyes unshakeable. "For so long as you remain standing, so will I. Your fate is my fate - there is no other reality than the one in which you live."

"I-I don't want you to-" you hurriedly let out, its almost breaking your heart. "But I would... My desire is to shield you from harm. Any threat comes your way, I would-" Baizhu pauses, seeming to ponder whether to finish his prior sentence. Then, he swallows his pride before speaking again.

"My priority... It is to keep you alive. To make sure you are safe..."

Bennett

Bennett's eyes widen, as if he were shocked by your words. "Y-you're not going to die, my grace," he says softly, but there is something like panic in his voice. "Y-you won't... you can't die, ever..."

The Adventurer reaches out and lightly touches your hand with his fingertips. "Please, do not speak of such things..." Bennett looks up at you, his eyes wide and pleading. "You would... you would leave me alone? What would I ever do without you? Go on adventures alone? Who would I tell all my stories? Who would listen? You're my...— I... I."

And then he looks down, unable to look at you. "If you left, I would die; my purpose is to love. So, please, you..."

He looks up at you in desperation again. "If you leave so soon, I won't ever be ready to finish loving you..."

A breeze gently flows through your hair as Bennett reaches out and strokes your hair. The way his fingers caress your hair, so gently and with such tenderness, makes you wonder if he is afraid of breaking you. "You are my everything. So I will give my all to prevent your death, even if it causes my own."

Capitano

“As you wish, your grace” The words leave Capitano’s mouth almost involuntarily. He stares at you, his eyes glazed over as the thought of never seeing you again flashes through his mind.

He doesn’t care what he must do. Even if the universe is set against him. Even if he must face the Abyss Order or the Tsarita herself alone. You alone are worth his devotion and his existence. The thought is a bittersweet one. He will devote himself to you so wholly that when you pass, he will not live on as he normally would but will rather perish at your side.

He is not a man to love lightly, nor is he a man who will forget your kindness with time.

Capitano will live for you, devote himself to you, and even perish with you without a second thought. You are his entire universe, the center of his world. Nothing exists for him but you. All the other worlds that are his duty no longer matter in comparison.

His will is set on two things, only.

To love you. To die with you.

Childe

Childe's breathing quickens at the idea of your death. He cannot allow it. "No," he breathes. He grasps your hands tight, desperation in every motion.

"You can't die. You are immortal. Eternal. Unbreakable." The words tumble out of his mouth, sounding almost like a prayer with the desperation and pleading in his voice. "Of course I can die silly...so when i do...please live on without me." "No." Childe stares at you, his face hard as a rock.

"I can't."

Childe closes his eyes and grips your hands tighter. He leans forward until his chin presses into your knuckles and his face is inches from yours.

"Don't ask me to do that. I won't let you die."

Childe repeats the words, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence, raw and trembling.  "I can't let you die." He pulls you close, so close that your lips are almost touching, but not quite.

"I'm nothing without you." His voice is a whisper. "My existence depends on you.

"I can't live without you."

Chongyun - aged up

He freezes at the sound of these words, his body trembling uncontrollably. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower, his heart pounding faster and faster, all the color draining from his face. "You... you wouldn't... you couldn't.." he says in a hoarse voice, his head spinning from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dread. He is too close to the thought of losing you, and he fears that it could destroy him. "Please," Chongyun whispers, his eyes imploring you with such a profound desperation, a look that could tear your heart out.

"I cannot lose you. I cannot live a life without you." He reaches for your hands, grasping them tightly in his own. "I would not survive your departure. The very thought leaves me in a living nightmare."

Chongyun is crying. "Please do not make me go on without you. Please do not." He is shaking. Your words have stirred up a whirlwind of emotion. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading, his heart breaking at the thought of a life without you.

"I would follow you until the end, your Grace. Even if it means for my own journey to end."

TAGLIST: @hehothrowawayfae @lucienbarkbark

[l1tw1ck]

Neighbors

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 2,321🕷️

[Part Two] | AFAB Language Used

Alternate Universe: Miguel has a daughter

im very not normal about this man

CW: Drunk Sex, Size Kink, Dom/Sub, Oral, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Bathroom Sex, Squirting, Creampie

The neighbors invited you over for a housewarming party and you decided to go. They offered free wine and an assortment of baked goods and other foods, of course you went. What you weren't expecting, was to see your crush and neighbor, Miguel. You’ve known him for a pretty long time and you assumed he wouldn't be here. You wonder what, or who, convinced him.

“Hey, Miguel. I'm surprised to see you here.” You walk over to him.

“Oh, I wasn't going to come but..” He laughs. “Gabi told me she wants me to meet someone new and give her a little sibling. She's so adamant on it but she doesn't even know how it works. The first time she asked, she didn't mention a partner but I told her I don't want any more kids if I don't have one. One little rascal is enough.” He shakes his head. “Now she's obsessed with finding me a husband.”

“What does Gabriella think of me?” You ask.

Miguel’s thankful you can't tell he’s blushing. “Well, she's really fond of you…She said she'd like the two of us to…to be together.”

“Yeah? That's good. It's nice that the daughter of the father I'm pursuing is rooting for me.”

He feels his heart beating faster. “The father you're…pursuing?”

“You heard me.”

“You- you don't have to. Pursue me. I…” He looks down at his feet then back at you. “I already want you.”

“If that's the case, why don't we go to my place and make baby number two?” You chuckle.

“Take me on a date first, player.” He laughs.

“I’d love to. Are you free tomorrow night? What do you think about going out drinking? There's a nice bar around here that serves food.”

“Well, luckily for you, Gabi’s having a sleepover tomorrow. Why don't you pick me up at 8?”

“Sure thing. Wear something sexy.”

Miguel smirks. “Only if you wear a suit.”

“Deal.”

“Gabi, you're gonna be late!” Miguel stands in her doorway, hands on his hips while he watches her frantically pack her bag. She knows her friend won't mind if she comes later than expected but Miguel’s nagging is making her feel like she's gonna get crucified for being late.

“Calm down, papá!” She zips up her backpack and slips it on her shoulders.

“Come on, mija! Let’s go!” He hurries downstairs, Gabriella following closely behind.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“I- Because your friend will be upset!” He puts on a pair of shoes that are easy to take off.

Gabriella stops and crosses her arms. “Liar.”

Miguel sighs. “I’m…I’m going on a date tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?! With who?”

“...[Name].”

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get you two together for ages!”

Miguel laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, I need time to get ready.”

Gabi makes a face that resembles a certain fictional yellow sponge’s face. She looks very excited and veryy interested to find out all the details of your date. She’ll have to pester him about it tomorrow morning. Miguel will have to come up with a kid friendly retelling.

Miguel comes back home two hours before 8. The drive was only 30 minutes but he wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to get ready. He hasn't gone on a date in years, he’s so anxious.

He digs deep into his closet, pulling out a satin red dress he bought impulsively last year. He had nowhere to wear it but his friend convinced him to try it on and he loved the way he looked in it. He had to buy it, along with a matching pair of heels, just in case he got the opportunity to wear it. He internally thanks himself and his friend for their past decision as he slips it on. He admires himself in the mirror. You’re gonna love this. He searches for his unused pair of heels and puts them on. He struggles a little to walk but he’ll get used to it.

He walks over to his dresser and opens up a drawer, pulling out a makeup bag. He doesn't wear makeup much, he usually just covers up his eyebags, but he wants to look good for you today so he’ll try using the thankfully not expired makeup he has. He hopes you like it.

You wait outside Miguel’s door with a bouquet of red roses. Ah, first date jitters. You haven't felt like this in a while. Miguel opens the door. Fuck. He looks gorgeous.

“You look amazing, Miguel..” You look at him in awe.

“Thank you..” He smiles. “You clean up nice.”

“Why thank you.” You smile back and hand him the roses.

“These are beautiful.” He takes in the floral scent. “Let me put them in water.” He hurries inside and finds an empty vase. You wait patiently for him until he comes back.

“Your carriage awaits, my prince.” You wink, reaching your hand out. Miguel takes your hand and follows you to the car. “I figured getting a driver would be better, since we’ll both be drinking.” You open the car door. Miguel gets in and then you get in after him.

“I really feel like royalty now.” Miguel laughs.

“You should, because you are. Whenever I’m with you, I want you to feel like a prince. You deserve to be treated like royalty.”

Miguel looks at you, lovestruck.

“It might be too early to say this but…I love you, Miguel, and I’m always going to make sure you know that.”

“I love you too.” He’s smiling so much it hurts.

After about an hour and a half of drinking, the both of you are veryy drunk.

“Did you bring condoms?” Miguel asks, interrupting a previously wholesome conversation.

“...I didn't think you wanted to have sex already.”

He frowns. “Go buy some.”

“I- I can't.” You look at him sheepishly. “I actually tried to buy some at the stores near here and uh…they don't have my size.”

Miguel stares at you. You can almost see a loading symbol over his head. “You’re too small?”

“Oh, no, I’m too big.” You shake your head. “I’m not huge so I expected them to have my size in stock but I guess not. I had to order some online.”

He bites his lip. “Let me see.”

You smirk. “Are you just gonna look or do you want to give it a thorough examination?”

“I'm gonna suck your cock.” He says plainly and somehow also seductively.

“I’ll call an uber.”

Miguel pushes you against your front door and immediately starts kissing you. He was too impatient to wait any longer. He reaches for your crotch and starts groping you.

He pulls away from the kiss, a bit of his lipstick transferred to your lips. “I don't want you to treat me like a prince in bed. I want you to have control over me.”

“So you want to submit to me?”

He nods.

“Get on your knees.” You say as you unbuckle your belt and unzip your slacks. He immediately falls to his knees. You pull your boxers down, revealing your hard cock.

Miguel stares in awe. He opens up his mouth and tries to take all of you in his mouth.

“You’re so greedy, Miguel.” You chuckle, gripping his hair and pulling him away. He whines in dismay. “You want to suck my cock? Beg for it.”

“Ple- please! Please let me suck your cock, sir!”

“Good boy.” You let go of his hair. Miguel quickly swallows your length again, eagerly deep throating your fat cock and covering it in red lipstick stains. He definitely looks like he's enjoying himself, so much so that his underwear must be soaked in his slick. “I know you want to touch yourself, go ahead.”

Miguel quickly brings his hand underneath his dress and rubs his aching bottom growth through the lace fabric of his panties, moaning along your shaft.

“You look so beautiful like this.”

He whimpers. He loves to be praised. He looks into your eyes before speeding up, sucking you off even faster than before. He closes his eyes, getting into it. The feeling of your hot, thick shaft filling up his throat makes him so aroused. He could probably come just from sucking you off.

“Such a good slut for me…you really love my cock, don't you?”

If Miguel could purr, he would. You wrap your fingers in his hair and gently pull him away. He almost lets out a whine. “Can I fuck your face?”

“Oh God, please.” He nods.

You pull him forward, filling his mouth up with your cock, and start fucking his throat. He rolls his eyes back, lazily rutting his dick against his own hand. His eyes start to well up with tears of pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, doing so well.” You lick your lips. Miguel moans, tears rolling down his cheeks. They mix with his eyeliner, causing black streaks to stain his face. He has no idea how sexy he looks right now.

“‘M gonna come–” You groan. “And you're gonna swallow it all, aren't you, baby?”

Miguel would nod if he could.

“Good.” You bring him all the way to the base of your cock and pump his mouth full of your load. He’s quick to swallow, happy to consume it all. You pull away and admire his wrecked face. “You’re so pretty..” You sigh lovingly. “Do you want to stay over?” You ask, pulling up your pants.

“Yeah…Just have to wake up early to pick up Gabi at 8.”

“No problem. You want a ride?” You ask. He nods softly. You help him onto his feet and take him to your bathroom.

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” You hold onto the straps of his dress, waiting for his permission to strip him.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” He asks, frowning.

You chuckle at his drunken self. “Remember what I said? I'm sorry, baby, we can't.”

He pouts. “You said you wanted to give me a baby didn't you? Just breed me, already..”

“Oh sweetheart…” You take a piece of paper and get it wet then wipe off his makeup. “Let’s get married first, okay?”

He growls. He looks adorable. You pick him up and sit him down on the sink. You push his dress up. His lingerie is soaked. “At the very least, I’ll make you come, baby.” You pull his panties off.

“Nn- no…” He pulls on your tie. “Fuck me. And then- and then we'll elope-”

You laugh. “Didn't you say that I’m the one who's in charge? You're not being a very good boy..” You tsk.

“Please, Daddy.”

You sigh, swayed by his cuteness. “You win.” You slip two fingers inside him one by one. “You didn't make it a fair fight.” You slowly fuck him with your digits.

“Mm..” He bites his lip, enjoying the way your thick fingers feel inside of him. But he’d enjoy your cock way more. “Put it in, please~”

“Say it properly.”

“Please put your cock inside my pussy, Daddy.” He smiles cutely.

“Good boy.” You pull your fingers out and free your already hard cock. You slowly ease your length inside him, eyes trained on his face as you stretch out his cunt.

Miguel hisses in pain. You're big and it doesn't help that he hasn't had sex in over a decade. “Don't stop-” He moans. “‘S good- good pain-”

You lean into his neck and press soft kisses against it. You have to mentally restrain yourself from biting and marking him. “You’re doing good, baby, taking me so well.” You pull down the strap of his dress, freeing his breast and allowing you to grope it. He whimpers, rolling his head back as you reach deep inside of him. His eyes widen, a gasp leaving his lips as your cock brushes against his g-spot and sends a wave of pleasure up his body. He bites his lip as your cock moves in further and continues pleasing that area. “I’m all the way in, honey.” You go in to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your neck and joins in your passion, tongue dancing with yours.

He pulls away and looks at you with half lidded seductive eyes. “Fuck me.” He pauses. “Please.” He remembers his manners.

“That’s right, baby. You ask, not demand.” You smirk. You hold his waist and fuck him at a gentle pace. “God, you feel so good, baby…Fuck..”

For the first time tonight, despite the fact that it should've occurred earlier, Miguel feels embarrassed. But in a good way. He loves how pleased you look with his pussy.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “‘S good, so good, Daddy.” He moans. You're so big that even with the slow pace you're fucking him at it feels amazing.

“Can I go faster?”

“Yes- please~”

You pick up the pace. “You’re gorgeous, Miguel.” You kiss his cheek. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He moans even louder. “Thank you- thank you, Daddy-” He gasps. “Gonna- gonna come– can I come?”

You groan in pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, of course you can.” You stroke his t-dick, instantly dragging out his orgasm. He squirts on your cock, shaking heavily. You slow down before stopping. You’d definitely come if you kept going. Miguel moves his hips and before you can process what he's doing, you come. “Miguel..” You look at him.

He turns away from you. “‘M sorry..”

“We’re both drunk so I’ll forgive you just this once. Plus I’m more worried about you…I should buy you the morning after pill.” You pull out and pause, enamored by the way his pulsing cunt looks with your cum dripping out of it. You help him off the sink and onto his feet.

“Alright, let's clean up, hm?”

[head-empty-just-ace]

PART I: AU Dates & Kisses! w/ Ace, Luffy, and Zoro

As per stated in the title, this will be the first part of a short series I'll make which consists of characters going on a date with GN!Reader in a modern day setting. Here's the link to the masterlist to check out other ones!

CW: None. Pining, dates, kisses, and fluff.

Total Word Count: 2.5k

Portgas D. Ace

Amusement Park

Ace always had a major crush on you. It amazes him because the way the two of you met was purely accidental. He got into trouble and was chased around for it. Upon rounding on a corner, he crashes into you.

The people who were chasing after him are after you as well. Yelling that you were an accomplice. So, he grabbed your hand and made a dash for it.

Both of you are running around and laughing like idiots at his antics and attempts to get away from the people chasing him. You helped him get out of it one way or the other.

He found himself staring at you. Your windswept hair, cheeks flushed from the running, the smile on your lips, and your laugh. That laugh. Gods, he loved the sound of it.

You both got along easily. He found himself trailing after you with the lovesick look on his face. Ace would open the door for you, carry your things, listen to your stories with rapt attention, and anything to be in your company.

It took him months to ask you out. Give the guy a break, yeah? You were just so good. Kind, sweet, patient, and affectionate. There was something about you that always drew him in. And he loved your company. He was scared that you'd distance yourself if you rejected him.

He tried to be casual and confident while holding two tickets to the amusement park. Unfortunately, he still ended up stumbling over his words. Let out a loud whoop when you agreed.

Ace usually doesn't plan things out. But for your date with him? He had a whole plan and itinerary to makes sure it would be perfect. Made sure there was also breaktimes in between so you'd be able to enjoy the date better. Ofc, he did his best to make you smile and laugh at every chance he gets. Both of you went to every ride and place to visit. From the thrilling rides of rollercoaster to the haunted house. You were fairly reluctant to enter the haunted house but he saw that as an opportunity to tease to enter with him. Oh, you clung to him every time there was a jumpscare? He loved it. Even better if you let him wrap an arm around you and you lean into his touch. His heart swelled with pride. While navigating through the rides, he'd always find excuses to hold your hand. Weaving his fingers through yours and finding that your hand fit perfectly against his. Honestly, he just finds every excuse and reason to touch you. Helping you get down from rides, brushing that strand of hair away from your face, and placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowds. Finally, it was evening. You and Ace went to the final ride for the day-- The ferris wheel. You sat across from him, your gaze resting on the window to the sight. Soft and glistening lights of the rides and bustling stalls down below had a warm smile tugging onn your lips. His gaze was zeroed in on you. Ace drank in the sight of you. Captivated with you that he could gladly stare at you like that for hours on end. Gathering up the courage, he clears his throat to catch your attention before pulling out a small box from his pocket. "A gift," he says as he hands you the box. Inside was a bracelet. The intricate design had your eyes shining with your fingers brushing over the item. He gestures to the bracelet with a hand before slowly moving over to your side. Picking the item up, he wears it over your wrist. His finger brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. A shaky sigh leaves your lips when he continues to hold your wrist. His thumb brushing over your skin as he holds your gaze. Slowly, he raises a hand to cup your cheek. It makes his heart race when you lean into the palm of his hand. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows and decides to just go for it. Ace leans in closer as he brushes his thumb over your cheek. Eyes gazing into your own with an adoring look in them. "Is this alright?" He asks, his lips inches away from yours. When you mutter out an agreement, he could swear that his heart bursted from its seams in joy. The kiss is tender yet there's an underlying passion to it. As though he wills you to understand the depth of his feelings for you from that kiss alone. Ace finds himself chasing after your lips when you pull away. Pressing chaste kisses against them that had you giggling. It made you indulge him a bit, letting him wrap an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Both of you only stopped when someone cleared their throat. It was the conductor, discreetly reminding the two of you that the ride had already ended. Both of you are blushing from embarrassment as you usher outside. Meeting each other's gaze as you leave the ride to let out a laugh. Teasing each other as you walk through the crowds hand in hand.

Monkey D. Luffy

Fireworks Festival

You two are practically best of friends. He adores you because you always put up with him no matter what trouble he cooks up. Even when he's being loud and clingy— you're always so patient with him.

Luffy loved that he could have fun with you but you'd still keep him in line so he won't get in trouble. And even when he did, you'd help him out with a smile and laugh.Though you did scold him whenever he gets injured. You were gentle while tending to his wounds that it made it hard for him mind the scolding.

Well, sure, did he feel a bit sulky when you hung out with other people? Yes. He wanted you to hang out with him. Truthfully, you were the one with the biggest crush on him. But the guy seemed absolutely dense. Which frustrated you even more. You flirted with him? He doesn't get it. It goes over his head.

Sure, Luffy may have had feelings for you but he always brushed them off as just platonic. He always felt butterflies when you were around— told you that you were fun to be around with bc of it. Made him feel giddy.

Usually, whenever he invited you to go somewhere, you'd have other people come along and it'd become a group hangout. So, you didn't really think much of his invite.

The festival was packed with so many people. Stalls lining up by the pathways and lanterns hanging above. Crowds of people enjoying the festival before the fireworks show. You're waiting by a lamp post for Luffy. And strangely enough, you were the only one there. You were expecting the others to be there already since it was almost time. Your ears perk when he calls your name, eyes immediately track the origin of the voice. You can feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in a kimono with that charming smile of his plastered over his face. He walks up to you, and you could swear his eyes shined a little brighter at the sight of you. "Uh...so— where are the others?" You ask shyly as you turn to him. Gaze flickering around to see the supposed company for the festival. "Are they late or is the meeting place different?" Your brows furrow in slight confusion and curiosity. "What are you talking about? It's just us." He says, and you could feel that your heart combusted on the spot. His gaze flickere over your form and his smile becomes a bit more affectionate. "You look great in that kimono!" With that casual compliment, he takes your hand and leads you to the crowded street to enjoy the festival. "C'mon! Let's go have fun!" And fun did the two of you have. Enjoying the games and stalls. Him gobbling down and surprisingly sharing some of his snacks with you. He even got you a plushie that caught your eye in a shooting range (almost picked a fight with the stall owner for cheating). Maybe, just maybe you were overthinking it, but he seemed much closer than usual. Your shoulders brushing often as you stood beside each other on the stalls. You almost got lost once. So, he holds your hand while you guys found a nice secluded spot to enjoy the fireworks. Your eyes are glued to the scene before you. Splashes of colors in the inky sky. The loud booms as it erupts into various shapes and sizes. It takes your breath away immediately. "Luffy, the fireworks—" You turn to face Luffy, wanting to see what his reaction was. But you see, he was already looking at you. Has been ever since the fireworks started. There's that rare serious expression on his face. It has your heart pounding against your chest. Almost as loud as the fireworks in the background. He whispers your name, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "I feel weird." Luffy admits almost silently. He barely even notices that he's leaning closer to you. "It's like my heart is racing and won't stop." He continues. There was just something about you that he found captivating. "I..." With that, you lean closer to him. You ask him what he means by that. If he feels butterflies in his stomach. If his heart is racing his chest. If he wants you close to him. He says yes. Eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. You take a leap of faith. Lips pressing against his in a hesitant kiss. His eyes widen in surprise. For a moment, you're regretting it when he stays still. You assumed and fucked up. Now, he's gonna think you're weird and hate you. But as you're about to pull away, he returns the kiss. Relief washes over you at his reciprocation. The moment you pull away shyly, cheeks flushed as you look for his reaction— he has that bright grin on his face as he lets out a laugh. It wasn't the mocking kind. It was that good natured laugh that seemed so infectious it made you smile a bit. "I think I like you." Luffy admits unabashedly. With a chuckle, he wraps his arms around you to capture your lips in another kiss.

Roronoa Zoro

Aquarium

Both of you are infuriatingly cute. The kind where everyone knows you guys like each other but neither of you are making a move. You're too scared he'll reject you and make things awkward. He's too hesitant and unsure of his own feelings to truly admit it even to himself.

You two met when he got lost on a tournament ground for a competition. Time was ticking, and he was almost late for his match. And you guided him back to where his competition was. Even cheered him on a bit.

Slowburn. The longing in each other's eyes when the other isn't watching. Lingering touches that last a little longer than necessary. Gods, he loves the way you don't confuse his silence as him not caring. It felt like you truly understood and saw him.

The guy loved listening to you talk. There was something about your voice that soothed him. Found it mesmerizing. It made him want to lean in a just—

He blinks as he snaps out of it. Without realizing it, he was already leaning in towards you with his hand mid-air. And just like that, he acts like he wasn't about to kiss you.

Will grumble about something getting stuck in your hair and brushing it away— calling you a klutz all the while. He will pull back and motion you to go back to what you were talking about.

Eventually, something in him caves in (he saw someone confess to you— well, you rejected them but still). He casually hands you a ticket to the aquarium and sets the date. Despite him trying to be calm, you can see the blush on his cheeks.

On the day of the date? With you looking so good in your outfit? He couldn't keep his eyes off you. No matter the animals or sights in front of him, his attention was solely on you.

He found himself smiling more than usual— which isn't a lot but you noticed those upward tugs of his lips no matter how small they were. It made you feel warm that he could smile like that in your presence.

There was something so enchanting about it. The way aquatics hues glow against your skin. How your face lights up when you spot your favorite animals. When you giggled at the petting zoo. Damn, he couldn't get enough of you.

Your eyes shine with that warm glow in them as you look at the shark, booping its nose against the glass where your hand was. A soft giggle leaves your lips and he immediately melts at the sight. He couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to— not that he even wanted to anyways. "Havin' fun?" He asks, raising a hand to brush a strand of your hair from your face. Calloused fingers linger there for a moment before his gaze meets yours. There's a silent intensity to them. "Y-Yeah..." You let out, flustered by the tension lingering in the air. You notice it. The way his gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment and it has your cheeks heating up. A shaky sigh leaves you, and a sudden rush of confidence fills him. Zoro's hand moves under your chin to guide you to fully face him. You visibly swallow at his touch. Your heart racing in your chest as his hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin as drinks in your every reaction. He leans in. Close enough to press his forehead against yours. Gods, something in him just knew it felt so right to be close to you like this. His eyes shut closed as he brushes his nose against yours. Pride wells up inside of him at the shiver that goes through you. Another hand reaches out, thumb brushing over the outline of your lips as he indulges the feel of your breath against his. With an agonizing slowness, he closes the distance between you. To make sure to give you enough chance to pull away if you wanted to (not that you would). It was soft and chaste. Over before you even realize it. He pulls away to see if there's regret in your eyes. When he finds none, he leans in to kiss you again. He pours out his emotions into it. All the longing he felt for you. Pulling you closer with an arm around your waist while you melt into the kiss. When he pulls away from the kiss, he just looks at you in awe. As if to engrave the sight of you in his mind until he'd see it even his eyes were closed. Gods, he'd stay like that forever if he could.

[darlingshane]

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

[writingsbychlo]

false confessions | azriel

summary; you overhear azriel say something, and try to cooperate. word count; 4595 notes; based on this ask, that I got a little carried away with!

"I love her, I really do." Az sighed, your heart swelling a little as you listened from where you were perched within the library, Nesta at your side. When you'd heard the men come in, you'd been intent on going to see your mate, but they'd been talking, Cassian had been deep into a story about him and Nesta, and your friend had been adamant about hearing it out. So, you'd let her grab your wrist, sneaking the two of you deeper into the library, hiding away between the shelves where even Azriel's shadows had not bothered to slip away and investigate. 

"But?" Rhysand prompted, your heart skipping a beat in your chest at the pause that followed, the silence seeming to drag on. 

"But... she's so clingy sometimes." Azriel exhaled the words on a breath, and Cassian snickered a little in response. "I just- sometimes I want my peace and quiet, and it just feels like whenever we're together, she's right on top of me at home, we never just.. do our own thing."

Your stomach twisted, and Nesta's fingers tightened around your wrist as she was still gripping it. All playfulness was gone, though. She let go a second later, straightening up and brushing down her skirts primly, pausing only when you grasped her in response, shaking your head. You knew that your friend would defend you to the ends of the earth if you asked, but you didn't want her to. This wasn't her problem, or anyone else's, it was yours. 

You were spinning, mind feeling like it was going a million miles an hour, the way it felt to fly home with Azriel when drunk after a night at Rita’s, while your stomach twisted the way it did the morning after said nights out. You weren’t sure where this problem had come from, up until now, you’d always thought Azriel liked the affectionate side of you, the part that just couldn't get enough of him. Clearly, that was not the case.

Your eyes tracked the movements of Azriel's shadows as they slithered out further, lazily, but inching ever closer to you and Nesta's position. Slowly, in an attempt not to get caught at all, you snuck backwards, taking her with you. Manoeuvring through the stacks, you stayed hidden, the two of you slipping out through the back exit and unseen, and in silence. 

Only once their voices had entirely faded and you were slowing your pace between the twists and turns of the corridors did Nesta finally let a loud and obscene curse slip from her lips. "I'm gonna' kick ten tons of shit out of them all."

"No." The word was icy on your tongue, and her head snapped to you, You gave a soft wince in apology. "I'm not mad at him."

"What? Why not?" 

"Because.. he's right. I am clingy, I just thought he liked that. I thought he liked when we were together, I never sensed anything otherwise down the bond, perhaps he's just good at hiding it. But, you heard him, he doesn't like it, so it's down to me to stop." You shrugged, but it didn't stop the stinging in your throat, and you slammed up walls at your end of the bond, hoping the hurt beginning to build hadn't yet leaked across to reach him. 

"What I heard," Nesta muttered, ice on her own voice as her arms crossed angrily over her chest, "was my mate chuckling his smug little ass off at the comment. Jerk. He can sleep in another bed tonight." She was equally as angry, on your behalf, and you grinned a little at the affection she displayed for you. 

"You don't have to do that."

"It's for me. He doesn't get to gossip about things like this behind my back. I wonder how many things I have done that irritate him that he's never told me, simply choosing to whine about it to those other bats." She hissed the word out like an insult, and you couldn't find fault in her logic. "I'd bet Feyre would agree."

"Would agree with what?" You both jumped, rather violently, approaching the dinner hall where said sister was sitting comfortably, a sketchbook and some charcoals out in front of herself, brows raised. Nesta didn't hesitate, stalking across the room and offering her daemati sister her hand. Brushing off charcoal on her skirt, she took it gently, gasping a second later after replaying the memory. "Those... those jerks!”

“That’s what I said!” Nesta burst, hands on her hips, and only the soft cooing of her nephew was enough to replace the scowl she wore with a slight smile. Your attention remained fixed on Feyre as she processed the covert conversation you’d secretly witnessed.

“No wonder Rhys locked me out, I didn't think much of it, boy talk, but this kind of boy talk?" She frowned, offering a sympathetic look your way, and the solidarity of your friends made you feel that much better. You rubbed your temples, swallowing again thickly, the weight of it all beginning to bring you down a little. "Fey, can you just take me home?"

"Of course, Nesta will watch Nyx for a moment, right?" His auntie was already leaning over his bassinet, tapping the tip of his nose teasingly as the baby babbled happily in return. With a hand in hers, Feyre took you home, a warm hug and a chastising word about their behaviour, her parting gift, before leaving you alone in the house belonging to you and your mate. 

The house was quiet when you were alone, the middle of the day meaning you would be alone for quite a while yet, leaving you plenty of time to decide on your course of action. You glanced around, somehow feeling out of place within your own home. It all felt.. different, somehow.

Were you mad? No, only sad, and so retaliation didn't seem fair. 

Sure, you were upset he'd talk to his friends about it rather than simply tell you, but Azriel had always struggled with 'talking about it', and had never wanted to hurt you. Emotionally inept at times, perhaps this was simply his way of trying to protect your feelings. A conversation you were never supposed to hear, a hurt you were never supposed to feel, because your mate was simply putting up with it to let you feel better. 

You couldn’t have that. This relationship wasn’t supposed to be about secret sacrifices, it was supposed to be about trust and love and mutual respect. You’d sworn it when finding out you were mates, and sworn it again at the ceremony, and you tried to hold it up every day. Azriel wanted to spare your feelings, and now, you’d spare his, too.

It was hours before he returned, and you’d found yourself slipping back into your regular routine, making everything feel normal again by sticking to what you knew. You were unloading ingredients, cooking a comfort meal for yourself, when your mate returned home.

You first caught the tell-tale sign of feet hitting the ground outside from the sky, then steps got closer and closer up the pathway, before finally, the door opening and closing.

By the time you heard him taking off his boots and hanging up his coat, you'd found it within yourself to muster a reasonably convincing smile, and shake away any lingering thoughts about it. You are doing this for Azriel, to make him happy, to love him the way he’d loved you for years, without ever telling you. Your body twitched, aching to move to him like you always did, to greet him at the door with a kiss, with a hug, with something, and you firmly rooted your feet to the ground. After a pause, clearly anticipating what you now realised was an unwanted overload of affection, Azriel left the entry, stepping through the large open-arc into the kitchen. 

"Hello, my love.." You only smiled, ignoring the curious tone in his voice, brushing your hands down the front of your apron. "What have you been up to today?"

"I saw Nesta." 

"Oh?" He paused by your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, and you tipped your face to the side receiving it, but made no move for more the way you usually would. 

"She gave me a couple of new books, and said she’d return the other ones." You only hoped he simply hadn't noticed that the book pile on the coffee table had not, in fact, changed at all. He didn't glance over, and you moved away, to the food laid out ready to be prepared for dinner. 

"Are you alright, my love? You don't seem quite like yourself, tonight.”

You redirected your glance to the vegetables, only nodding in response, and taking a deep breath to force another smile. "I'm just fine, don't worry, just a little tired today."

He lingered for a second, before nodding himself, offering a smile in return, and a flush of reassuring love down the bond. You let it in, letting it warm you from the inside out. So, this is what he wanted, he had noticed and was already responding better. It was both relieving and painful. He rolled up his sleeves, taking another step closer to you. "What are we making? What can I do to help?"

"Not a thing, I've got it here, don't worry." His head shot up, brows furrowing once again, and your hand almost reached out, wishing to smooth that spot between on his face that had wrinkled with the frown. He noticed this time, the slight raise of your hand before you lowered it. 

"But, I thought you liked it when we cooked together? You said you like how I can tell you about my day, while we make dinner." It's true, you had said that, but that was just another one of the events you'd forced upon him, wasn't it? Another act where he wanted to do his own thing, but was instead beholden to your wishes.

"I do, but we don't have to cook together every night. I'm fine here, I was just in my thoughts, is all. You could tell me about your day while we eat?” A flash of hurt travelled across his face, as though you were rejecting him, and so it was your turn to send a pulse of love down the bond to him. He tugged in response, pulling a smile from you, a real one, the way it always did when he did that. 

With a kiss placed on your forehead, he left in silence a moment later. Not long after, his footsteps were on the stairs, bath filling in the bathroom, and you let out a sigh at his absence. 

He returned in time for dinner, one of his shadows had been left behind, not-so-subtly lingering near the chopping boards to monitor you, and so you'd been careful about making sure to seem positively chipper until he returned. He helped carry everything through to the table, commenting gently under his breath about how good it all looked, and you thanked him as you poured wine, letting him serve food for you both onto your respective plates. 

Taking opposite seats, the lull lasted not a full second, before Azriel was diving right into a spirited recap of his day:

"Rhysand and Cassian are in the doghouse." You almost slipped with your wine glass as you took a nerve-soothing sip, and Azriel was smirking as he chopped his chicken up, lifting a piece on his fork to his lips, awaiting your response. 

"Oh? And why is that?" You followed suit, hoping your tone didn't give it away, already knowing exactly why they were upset. All three of you had felt a little betrayed by their conversation behind your backs. 

"Not a clue. All I know is that after we finished our discussion, Nesta and Feyre wanted nothing to do with either. Rhys was all 'Feyre, darling, I was thinking we could catch dinner on the Sidra tonight, I made a reservation'," Azriel mocked his best friend's voice, and genuine laughter spilt from you, his eyes glittering a little and the bond between you humming once again. "And then Feyre said 'I was thinking I'd rather spend the evening with anyone else, right now, actually'. He was speechless. As were Cass and I." 

He was so excited to share the gossip, like it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened, and the thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so hard crossed your mind. The same Azriel, the same you, just with less.. togetherness. Less touching. Perhaps, it would even make the times together and the touches even more special than you'd always thought they were. "And Cassian?"

"Even worse. He was in the midst of laughing at Rhys' shocked face when Nesta all but removed his balls in front of us." He took a swig of his wine, and you placed a piece of chicken into your mouth, excited to hear just how she'd unleashed that anger she'd been holding when you'd last seen her. "She said, 'oh, laugh it up, bat boy. See how much you're laughing when you're laying in bed alone tonight, nothing but your right hand to keep you company'."

That made your jaw drop, Azriel's deep laughter permeating the air at your reaction, and you felt proud of your friend, even if you did feel a little bad for Cassian. That's what they get for complaining behind their mates' backs instead of being honest. 

"So, Feyre then proceeded to thank Rhysand for the reservation, take both Nyx and Nesta and winnow away without another word. Presumably to said reservation for a lovely sisterly dinner." Az shrugged, turning back to his food, and you sipped at your wine. Good for them. "When I left, Rhys and Cass were grumbling at the dinner table, trying to work out what they'd done wrong."

That sent a pang of pain shooting back through your chest, but you quickly suppressed it, beginning to tell him all about your own day, and your suddenly-made plans to go shopping instead of sitting at home with him all day tomorrow. He didn't object, only encouraged you. 

After dinner, with plates cleared away and wine glasses refilled, you'd both moved to the living room, a quiet night planned as he settled onto the couch, book in hand, opening his action-packed thriller to the page he'd left off at as you stoked the fire idly, stocking a few more logs on. 

When there was nothing more you could do to it, you stood, brushing down your skirts and leaving the room, not missing the trail of his eyes after you, or the sweep of one of his shadows, trying to curl around your ankle as you hurried through the house and up the stairs. You had planned to simply settle into bed, let your mind spin and wander, but with his watchful little trick giving you it's full-attention, you were forced to move through your preparations for bed, and follow its lead when it wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back downstairs. 

When you returned, Azriel's glass was empty, book still open, but his gaze was on the doorway as you walked through it. "Where'd you go?"

"I thought I'd prepare for bed before reading tonight, seeing as I'm so tired, that way I can get in bed as soon as the need arises." Your hands locked in front of yourself, and dipped his head in a gesture toward your book pile. 

"Will you sit with me and read for a while, then?"

"Of course." What were you supposed to do, say no? You were giving him space, but when he asked you to stay, who were you to deny it? Picking up the book from the top of the pile, you settled down into the large armchair on one side of the table, perpendicular to the couch Azriel sat on. As you opened your book, his snapped shut, and he let out a rough sigh. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reading." You teased, waving your book at him, but he was not in such a playful mood, it seemed. 

"I see that. Why are you doing it over there?"

You faltered. What now? Confess to hearing him, or continue to spare his feelings the way he had been sparing yours for years. The choice seemed clear. "Sitting closer to the fire, so I don't get cold."

"You never get cold, because you sit with me. You sit here, and if you get cold, I wrap a wing around you, and you get that cute little blush on your face and make one of those jokes about Illyrians being built warmer for those 'damn cold mountains'. So, why are you sitting over there?"

Busted. You worried your lower lip, trying to decide exactly what to say, but he beat you to it, his face crumpling a little as realisation washed over him. 

"You heard us in the library." It wasn't a question, no, it was a statement. A fact, he knew it. Your mate was far too intelligent and deductive for his own good, sometimes. He put down his book, crossing the room in a flash, and removing yours from your hold too. He slipped down to one knee before you, grasping your hands in his, and he gaped for a few moments, no words coming. "I didn't mean it," was what he settled on. 

"'Course you did, Az. It's okay." You squeezed his hands lightly, and he gripped back firmer, like you might pull away from him if he didn't hold on. "I was a little upset to know you'd rather tell your friends than simply tell me if something I was doing was bothering you, but you're allowed to be bothered by things."

"No, I didn't mean it, my love. Please, don't take it to heart." There was a pleading under his voice, like he thought this might drive a wedge between you both, and you pried one hand free to sit comfortingly over his cheek. His head tipped into the touch. 

"Az, it's okay, really. Not everything is always going to be perfect between us, but in future, if I do something you don't like, just tell me, okay?"

"No, no, no.." He was panicking now, so much so that the fear was beginning to ripple down the bond, you couldn't just hear it in his voice but feel it ricocheting through your own chest. Cold, like shards of ice. "Everything is perfect, and that is the problem. Rhys was complaining about all the changes with Nyx. About how he loves his son so much, but lately, Feyre hasn't even wanted to touch him, and she's had such mood swings because of the sleepless nights, he's frazzled. One minute she's coming onto him, the next she's snapping at him because he didn't kiss her just right. Cassian was complaining because Nesta is so fiercely independent and he loves it, but when all that overprotective side of him kicks in and she snaps at him for going full-Cass-mode on her, he hates it. He wishes sometimes she'd just let him clean her wounds and treat her gently."

You didn't know quite what to say, confusion filling you, and he pressed on, pushed a little closer, never letting your gaze slip from his, holding you captive with it.

"Then they were looking at me, like I was supposed to say something, anything. Like, they'd been vulnerable about things they couldn't tell their mates without feeling embarrassed, as though it was my turn. I couldn't think of anything, because, baby, everything is perfect. All I wanted to say was, 'can't relate, Rhysand; maybe one day but not today. Can't relate Cassian; my girl protects me as much as I protect her, we fuss over each other'. I didn't want to upset them, and I realised what they wanted was clingy, the kind of clingy we have, the kind of clingy I love. So, I tried to tell them it wasn't all it seemed, so they'd feel better."

His thumbs soothed over your knuckles, the only sounds between you being the popping of the fire and the ticking of the large clock, until you sighed. He leaned down, kissing the hand still clutched in his own, before twisting to press a kiss to the palm on his cheek before you could retract it. 

"It damn near broke my heart when you didn't greet me at the door tonight. It's my favourite part of getting up in the morning, knowing that when I come home, you'll come flying into my arms, and show me so much love, a kind of love I never thought I'd have. But you didn't, you said you were fine, though. I worried you were mad at me, too. You didn't want to cook together, I hated that, because I like being part of the things you like. You didn't kiss me, you haven't kissed me all night, I miss it. I miss it so much. You didn't hold my hand at dinner, and now you won't sit with me. I'm worried, my love. I'm scared, you have to believe me."

He raised his free hand, sitting it tenderly over your jaw, just like you did for him, swiping his thumb delicately back and forth across your cheekbone. It was an act you adored so much, something he knew brought you peace and comfort, and at this moment, it was doing just that. You could feel the fear in his words as it echoed in your chest, the desperation as he waited for your response. Lifting the hand from his cheek, his gaze tracked the movement, watching your hand hover for a split second over his head. He didn't let the half-second become a full one. He took your hand, lacing it into his hair where it had been headed, your fingernails scratching over his scalp in the soothing way he loved so much. 

"Always touch me. Never hesitate. I don't care if we're at dinner or on a battlefield, but your touch, your attention, your love is everything. Never stop." His eyes fluttered closed in bliss, but he was still tense. "Just say you forgive me."

"I do not, because there's nothing to forgive." His breath hitched at the beginning of your sentence, eyes snapping open wide, and you leaned forward to rest your forehead on his. "Next time, come up with something that's not going to hurt my feelings, even if I shouldn't be eavesdropping."

He smirked at that, nose brushing yours and he laughed breathily. "Next time, I'm just going to take the teasing and let them know how utterly fucking hard in love I am."

"Well, that works too." You smiled, before he was sitting up more, raising from his one knee and pressing his hands underneath your body. "What are you doing?"

"Moving you so we can sit together."

"I'll just come to the couch-"

"Won't be close enough, now." He muttered, scooping you up enough to settle into the wing-designed chair, and situating you sideways across his lap as your eyes rolled. He left a soft bite to your covered shoulder in response. "Don't roll your eyes at me, you had me freaking out. I thought you weren't going to forgive me. I thought you weren't going to.. to be the you that I love, anymore.."

"Yes, well, that's over now." You leaned in, kissing the tip of his nose for emphasis, but uncertain eyes found yours again.

"You mean it?"

"I do." You pressed another kiss to his jaw, fingernails moving back to rake through the thick black hair on the top of his head.

"You'll greet me at the door tomorrow with a kiss?" Mm-hm. "You'll let me cook with you?" Your lips moved up to his cheek, nuzzling there sweetly as you left little pecks across his skin, mm-hm. "You'll hold my hand at the table, and play footsie, and you'll curl up on the couch with me after?" Mm-hm, your kisses reached the corner of his mouth, and you felt it twitch into a smile underneath your lips. "You'll cuddle with me in bed tonight?"

"And every other night, for the rest of our lives." 

Something akin to adoration raced through your chest, filling every part of you. Despite his pink-tinged cheeks, Azriel was confident in his requests, hazel eyes shining as he looked at you. "And you'll kiss me, you'll hold me, every time you want to. Promise me, you'll never hide your affection from me, promise me you'll show me your love for as long as you feel it for me?"

"As long as you promise the same to me." He nodded, vehemently, sealing the deal with an urgent kiss, and you felt a tingling mark forming on the back of your neck, alongside the mating bond you'd made together so many years ago. Another promise formed, to be held forever. 

His lips worked against your own, fingers slipping from where they sat on your cheek to smooth up, no longer running his fingers gently along your jaw but tracing soft tips over the patch on your neck. His lips became a smile in the kiss, teasing and sweet, a breathy sound slipping from you as he nipped at your lower. 

“We should go upstairs.” He whispered, and your arms looped around his neck, prepared for the movement that was so come as he began to shuffle toward the edge of the seat. Raising with you in his arms, he walked a path he was familiar with, your lips beginning to trace his cheekbone the way his thumb had yours moments prior, when a sudden thought crossed your mind. You gasped, sitting up stock straight and Azriel paused at the base of the stairs, brows raising, half-lidded eyes attempting to focus at your reaction. “What is it, my love?”

“We.. we have to go and tell Nesta and Feyre we worked things out.” Azriel stared for a moment, before a blinding grin was splitting across his face. It was more than a smile, it was amused and cheeky and youthful in a way he rarely showed, only in moments like this where the two of you were truly alone, when he let himself be vulnerable. A deep chuckle followed, before he was moving again, climbing the stairs with you in his arms, smile becoming a smirk. 

“So you’re the reason my brothers are in such trouble, huh?” He leaned down, nipping at the shell of your ear as he backed his way into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind himself. Dropping you down onto the bed, enough to be able to crawl toward you as you backed up into the pillows, he didn’t let up with the wicked stare. “Let it be, we can tell them tomorrow. Consider tonight a punishment for complaining.”

“Were you not technically part of that conversation, Az? Should you not also be punished?” Your words held no threat, and he knew it too, because he only dipped his head down once he was supporting himself above you. His lips dragged over your skin, up from your chin to the shell of your ear, only to whisper;

“Oh, I think I've been punished enough for tonight. I can come up with some much more fun things for us to do..”

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter One

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.6k

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You awaken to the familiar yet deteriorating landscape of the Dreaming. For years, your narcolepsy has transported you daily into this realm—a realm that, despite its barrenness and brokenness, has become your sanctuary. The muted grays and browns are beautiful to you, in a special way, but you know that the true majesty of the realm cannot emerge without its master, Dream. A being you've never met and only heard stories of. Yet, despite its decay, you have forged friendships here, finding solace among its inhabitants.

You walk through the desolate meadow, the grass crunching underfoot like dried paper. The sky is a dull, oppressive gray, reflecting the sea of sand and rock that neighbors the palace ruins. Your destination is the Library, a place that has barely managed to retain some semblance of order thanks to Lucienne’s tireless efforts. As you approach the grand, time-worn doors of the library, you feel a pang of sorrow for the state of this once magnificent realm.

“Lucienne?” you call out, your voice echoing through the cavernous hall as you step inside.

From behind a towering stack of books, Lucienne appears, her face lighting up with a weary smile when she sees you. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you would pop up. How are you today?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s hard to see the Dreaming like this. It feels like a part of me is withering along with it and it was already withering to begin with.”

Lucienne nods, her expression somber. “We all feel it. The absence of Lord Morpheus has taken a toll on this realm. But we must hold on to hope. Things may yet change.”

"It's been over a century, Luce," You point out, "I've been visiting for at least a decade and we've never seen hide nor hair of him. What— what if he's not coming back?"

Lucienne sighs softly, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. "Maybe not," she admits. "But we can't give up...we must continue searching."

All of the residents that remain, a precious few, were adamant that Dream would return. You believed them, you truly did, but what being abandoned their people like this?? Something terrible must have happened, it was the only explanation you can think of. You were staying strong and hopeful for them, after all, the Dreaming was there home. It was only a temporary place for you to wander until you rouse from your episode. As you ponder what you would do next in this dream, the palace creaks and shakes, the sounds of more stone breaking off and falling to the ground greets your ears.

"Perhaps it would be best if you get out of the palace and visit the brothers? Maybe play with Gregory?" Lucienne offers to you, hoping to get you out of the crumbling palace before you decided to were going to spend your time assisting Mervyn.

"But what if Mervyn—" The librarian cuts you off with a stern look over her spectacles. You glance at Lucienne, her stern expression brooking no argument. With a resigned sigh, you turn and head out of the library, feeling the cool air of the Dreaming settle against your skin. The path to Cain and Abel’s house winds through the remnants of what once was a lush garden, now overrun with thorny vines and twisted trees. At least that's what Mervyn had told you.

As you approach the brothers’ abode, you hear a faint rustling sound followed by a series of thuds. Rounding the corner, you find Gregory tangled up in a net of brambles, his wings flapping uselessly as he tries to free himself.

“Gregory!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. His large, expressive eyes brighten when he sees you. Like a giant puppy, he chirps at you and wiggles his body. You chuckle softly as you begin to untangle the brambles from around his wings. “What happened this time?”

Gregory chirps again, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and sheepishness. You carefully work your way through the tangle of brambles, pulling each thorny vine away from his stone skin. The gargoyle’s weight shifts as he tries to help by flapping his wings, but it only makes the process more cumbersome.

“Hold still, Gregory. You’re not making this any easier,” you mutter with a half-smile.

He lets out a low rumble, a sound that almost seems like an apology. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to free him. Gregory stretches his wings wide and gives a joyful hop, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

“Feeling better?” you ask, brushing off your hands.

Gregory nods vigorously, then nuzzles your shoulder with his large head. His granite skin is always surprisingly warm against your own.

You laugh softly and give him a pat. “Come on, let’s find Cain and Abel.”

The two of you make your way toward the brothers’ house, Gregory trailing close behind like an oversized shadow. As you approach, you hear the unmistakable sound of an argument brewing inside. The voices grow louder until you can make out individual words.

“It was mine! You had no right to take it!” Abel’s voice trembles with indignation.

Cain’s reply is sharp and dismissive. “You never appreciate what you have! Someone needs to teach you a lesson!”

You exchange a knowing glance with Gregory and push open the door. Inside, Cain stands over Abel, who is clutching something close to his chest—a small, tattered book by the looks of it. Both brothers freeze when they see you.

“Is everything alright here?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Cain straightens up and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just a little brotherly disagreement,” he says coolly.

Abel’s eyes dart between Cain and you before he speaks up in a softer voice. “He took my journal. I was writing in it, and he just—”

“It’s just a book,” Cain interrupts with a wave of his hand. “No need to get all worked up about it.”

You step closer to Abel and gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Abel, would you like to show me what you’ve been writing?”

He hesitates for a moment but then nods slowly, opening the journal to reveal pages filled with neat handwriting and detailed sketches—mostly of Gregory in various playful poses.

“These are wonderful,” you say genuinely, flipping through the pages. “You have real talent and Gregory is a stellar model!”

Abel blushes slightly under the praise while Cain rolls his eyes but doesn't comment further on the topic. Cain then suggests you stay for tea, his tone surprisingly warm. "Why don't you join us for some tea? Abel's been perfecting his recipe."

You nod, sensing the tension ebbing away. "I'd love to."

Abel beams and scurries off to prepare the tea. Gregory settles down near the hearth, his tail curling around his feet like a giant cat. You take a seat at the table, watching as Cain busies himself with setting out cups and saucers.

"So," Cain begins, filling the kettle with water. "What brings you here today?"

"Lucienne thought I needed a break," you say, leaning back in your chair. "She suggested visiting you and Abel."

Cain chuckles. "Smart woman. This place can be a bit... intense."

Abel returns with a tray of biscuits just as Cain sets the kettle on the stove. He places the tray in the center of the table and sits down across from you, his expression shy but hopeful.

"I hope you like them," Abel says quietly. "They're Gregory's new favorite."

You smile and reach for a biscuit, breaking it in half and offering a piece to Gregory. The gargoyle's eyes light up as he delicately takes the treat from your hand, chewing with surprising grace.

"These are delicious, Abel," you say after taking a bite of your own half. The biscuit is buttery and sweet, with just the right amount of crunch.

Abel's face lights up with pride. "Thank you! I've been experimenting with different ingredients."

The kettle whistles, and Cain pours steaming tea into each cup before passing them around. You take a sip, savoring the warm, fragrant brew.

"So," Cain says after a moment of silence, "how have things been with managing your narcolepsy Have your doctors come up with any new treatments?"

You take another sip of tea, letting the warmth spread through you. "It's been challenging," you admit. "They've tried a few new medications, but nothing seems to make a significant difference. I'm still visiting the Dreaming just as often."

Cain nods, his expression thoughtful. "It must be difficult, living between two worlds like that."

"It is," you agree, "but the Dreaming feels like a second home now. Even with its current state, there's something comforting about it."

Abel looks up from his tea, curiosity in his eyes. "Do you ever meet anyone else in your dreams? Other than us, I mean."

You think back to the fleeting faces and shadowy figures you've encountered over the years. "Occasionally. Most of them are just passing through, I think. But there are a few regulars."

Cain raises an eyebrow. "Regulars?"

You nod. "People who seem to visit the Dreaming as often as I do. We don't always interact, but there's a sense of familiarity. Like we’re all taking the same bus to work.”

Gregory nuzzles your arm again, reminding you of his presence. You smile and give him another biscuit piece.

"Maybe they’re like us," Abel muses, stirring his tea absently.

"Maybe," you say, watching Gregory's eyes follow the crumbs that fall from your hand.

Cain leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, if you ever need a break from your other world, you're always welcome here."

"Thank you," you say sincerely.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as you all enjoy your tea and biscuits. The tension that had filled the air earlier has dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie.

After a while, Abel stands up and starts clearing the table. Gregory helps by nudging dishes towards him with his nose.

"You know," Cain says thoughtfully, "I've been working on something in the garden. Would you like to see it?"

Your curiosity piqued, you nod eagerly. "I'd love to."

He leads you outside to a small patch of land behind their house where he’s cultivated a modest garden despite the Dreaming’s decay. It's filled with strange and beautiful plants that seem to shimmer in the dim light.

"It's not much," Cain says modestly, "but it's something to focus on."

"It's wonderful," you say sincerely, admiring the vibrant colors and unusual shapes.

Gregory chirps happily beside you while Abel joins Cain's side with a proud smile on his face.

You find yourself at the crumbling gate, alongside Lucienne, helping her clear away some of the rubble that has fallen from the deteriorating structure. The two of you work in  silence, the only sounds being the crunch of debris underfoot and the occasional groan of the ancient walls. Where was Mervyn? He usually helped out with clean up since he was the custodian and grounds keeper.

As you lift a particularly large piece of stone, a sudden gust of wind blows its way past where you stand, carrying with it an eerie, almost tangible sense of presence. You glance at Lucienne, who has frozen in place, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and hope.

“Lucienne?” you begin to ask, but she’s already moving, dropping the rubble she was holding and rushing towards the source of the disturbance. You follow her gaze and see him—Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams—lying amidst a swirl of sand. His dark form contrasts starkly against the desolation around him. Lucienne reaches him first, her voice trembling with a blend of reverence and concern.

“Lord Morpheus!” she exclaims, kneeling beside him. “Sir! Sir!”

You make it to where Lucienne crouches and Morpheus lays. His form is gaunt, his skin pale as moonlight, but his presence is undeniable. Lucienne's hands hover over him, uncertain whether to touch him or not.

“Is he...?” you start to ask, but Lucienne shakes her head.

“He’s alive,” she says, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief. “He’s come back.”

You watch as Morpheus’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. His eyes remain closed, and his expression is one of exhaustion. You kneel beside Lucienne, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“What do we do?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. But before Lucienne replies, Morpheus stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

Lucienne gasps softly and leans closer. “Lord Morpheus? Sir?” His eyes focus on her slowly as if waking from a deep sleep. When he finally speaks, his voice is weak but unmistakably his own.

“Lucienne,” he whispers. Tears fill her eyes as she takes his hand gently in hers.

“Welcome back,” she says softly.

Morpheus’s gaze shifts to you briefly, a darkness flickering within his eyes before it disappears. You rise to your feet and step a few steps back, unsure of what to do or say. Morpheus slowly rises to his feet, his eyes scanning his surroundings with a distant look. He finally focuses on Lucienne, then shifts his gaze to you. His expression is unreadable, a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“Who is this?” he asks, his voice carrying an otherworldly echo.

Lucienne glances back at you before answering. “This is one of our regular visitors. They’ve been coming here for the past decade.”

Morpheus studies you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you visit so often?”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I think we have more pressing concerns at the moment, Lord Morpheus. The Dreaming, she's suffering." Morpheus's eyes bore into you, searching for something unspoken. You hold his gaze, standing your ground even as the weight of his presence presses against you.

"You're right," Morpheus finally concedes, his voice a shadow of its former strength. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He turns to Lucienne. "What has happened here?"

Lucienne hesitates, glancing at you before she begins. "After your disappearance, the Dreaming started to decay. Parts of it have crumbled away entirely."

You nod in agreement, stepping forward. "We’ve been doing our best to maintain it, but without your presence, it’s been difficult."

Morpheus looks around, his expression hardening as he takes in the desolation. He reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers against a nearby fragment of stone, and you see a flicker of energy pulse through him. The stone vibrates slightly, as if responding to his touch.

"It will require time to mend," he mutters, mostly to himself. Then he faces you and Lucienne. "But we will reconstruct." Although he directs his words to Lucienne, his eyes focus on you, filled with hostility. You feel unwelcome.

Date Published: 7/10/24

Last Edit: 7/10/24

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