#incredible how hard she pulled him by the strings and she wasn’t even trying that hard

[kaitobromota]

whenever i see the most common critique of thh chapter 4 be “um actually hina’s plan was dumb because she said everyone wanted sakura dead but that includes makoto and kyoko who clearly didn’t” it’s like. girl just found out her best friend committed suicide i do NOT think she was thinking logically in the slightest…

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Part 3 Here

Part IV

Thickfreakness

“Who is the bloke with the tats?”

Pots and pans were banging together in the background. Feyre was ‘cooking’. Every Sunday they had lunch at one of their homes–dad’s Soho mansion, Nesta’s Notting Hill flat, Elain’s Russell Square Georgian manor, or Feyre’s bohemian Camden loft. 

“Okay, I want to make salmon en croute,” Feyre announced boldly and Elain’s heart fell at the words.

Her younger sister wasn’t what one would call a ‘cook’. And she knew that about herself. Yet it never stopped her from experimenting–wildly–in the kitchen. 

“Fey, that might be somewhat ambitious,” Elain cautioned her.

“Why? How hard can it be?”

“Perhaps it’s not difficult, but it is somewhat time consuming and requires a decent amount of prep. Why don’t you go with something easier, like Shepherd's Pie? Or a nice fish pie?”

“Nooo, it’s so boring,” Feyre moaned loudly. Elain chose not to remind her that salmon en croute and fish pie were basically the same thing in essence. 

“Okay, well, if you want to venture the en croute route, then good luck!”

“But what if I don’t do it right and it all falls apart?” Feyre whined.

“That’s why you should do something simpler. And no, Fey, I am not going to cook Sunday lunch in case you fail,” Elain warned.

“Ugh, Ela-aaaii–nnn,”

“No. Make fish pie. That’s it.”

“Don’t try to weasel out of the question! Who is the guy with the tats holding Piggy?”

“It’s Piglet. Not Piggy.”

“And?”

“He is a client,” Elain said calmly. 

“What kind of client?!” Feyre pressed excitedly. “You usually don’t have clients with tattoos! And that arm!” she gushed. “What does he do? Tell me! Come on! Is he hot? He is hot, isn’t he? An arm like that is attached to a hot man. And Piggy sleeping like that on him. Aww. Aww. Aww. Piggy never likes anyone–I don’t even think he likes me! I pet him and he looks like he is suffering. But the sexy arm bloke–Piggy is sleeping on that arm like a baby. Do you know the story about the scars? I bet it’s something incredible! Like he was saving a baby from a burning house. Or maybe he flipped a car over to pull a granny out of a burning vehicle,”

“You seriously need to calm down,” Elain interrupted her. “I am growing concerned for you. And for my sanity.”

“I demand you tell me!”

“He is an athlete,” Elain relented just a bit. 

“I knew it! A footballer? A rugby player? What is he?”

“A sumo wrestler,” Elain teased, only to throw her sister into a complete tizzy.

“I hate you! Can you set me up with him?”

“No,” Elain said immediately. 

“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Feyre demanded.

“You aren’t his type,” Elain cut her off. This conversation irritated her. She didn’t want to think of her sister and Azriel Night. Just no. Azriel was a headache, but he was her headache.

“What is he looking for? What is he like?”

Elain exhaled, thinking about the question.

“He…well, he is the most annoying and impossible man I’ve ever encountered. He is by far my worst client, and I’ve dealt with some doozies,” she complained loudly and passionately. “He is so rude and, and…he is just no good.”

“No good?” Feyre repeated. “That’s what you managed to come up with? No good?”

“He is no good. He is not articulate. I asked him what woman appeals to him and he says ‘pretty’. He isn’t taking this seriously at all. He is probably wasting my time, but I have no choice but to work with him. He signed the contract–which I had hoped he wouldn't. And now I am stuck with him. 

“Anyway. I am going to find him the best possible match–someone he wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ to and then he’ll be out of my hair! Forever. And he also made comments about my body!”

“What kind of comments?”

“Said I had nice breasts.”

“Oh, that’s the worst! When a man tells you that you are beautiful and have a nice rack,” Feyre fake-sympathised with Elain. “That is tough.”

“Gah. Quiet. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

There was more clatter in the background and finally, after a string of curses, Feyre said,

“You are certain you want to find him the best match possible?”

“Of course!” Elain cried. “I take pride in my work.”

“Oh I know. Only I’ve never heard you talk about any client at length and neither did you ever get so passionate about how much you hate them.”

“It’s because I do hate him!” Elain insisted, before relenting and correcting herself. “Well, I don’t hate him. Why would I hate him? I am just exasperated with him. His whole persona is…just ugh,” 

“Is he a yob?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Elain disagreed. “He isn’t walking around in a tracksuit with a shaved head. He dresses nicely. He is definitely not…”

“What?”

“Well, he thinks that I am posh,”

“You are posh!” Feyre laughed. “We are pretty darn posh, Elain. Daddy is a Knight, remember?” Elain sighed and murmured, “how can we forget?”

“And then the Duke of Velaris,”

“We are not discussing that.”

“Well, then you are posh to him, especially if he is a boy from the East End.  And I reckon he isn’t posh to you?”

“He is from the East End. There are traces of Cockney in his speech. And it doesn’t matter…I don’t care about any of that. Professionally speaking, I don’t make distinctions based on someone’s origins or class.”

“Nevertheless, he doesn’t sound like your normal client,” Feyre said.

“He isn’t. He is difficult and everything with him is a challenge.”

“Well have you considered that maybe in the end, the reward will be great?”

Elain chuckled and said, “I am not sure what constitutes ‘great reward’ in this situation. Pawning him off to some poor unsuspecting woman who doesn’t know what she is getting herself into?”

“The women you work with usually can handle a complicated man,” Feyre reminded her. “They are man eaters.”

Elain sighed. 

“Give my love to Piggy,” Feyre chirped. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“Good luck with en croute. And it’s Piglet. You know, you are like Az-,” she stopped abruptly, catching herself right before she blurted out a client’s name. 

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. You are just like my new impossible client. He refuses to call Piglet by his name!”

Feyre laughed at that. “What does he call him?”

“Pinky. It’s not Piggy or Pinky. It’s Piglet!”

“I actually like Pinky! I think it’s a good alternative.”

“Ugh, maybe I will set you two up. You fit right up.”

“Ooohh yeah! I am ready when you are.”

Elain snorted at her ludicrous sister and threw “bye, you nincompoop!”

“There is an old lady dying somewhere inside of you!” Feyre yelled back.

Elain leaned back in her armchair. It’s been a long night. A long week. 

Feyre was right. Elain was an old lady. It was Thursday night and she wasn’t at the pub or a bar. She wasn’t hanging out with her girlfriends. She was alone, in her office.

She ran her finger over the phone’s screen, bringing it to life. Clicked on the Photos. And clicked on the one that she kept staring at for the past two days. Azriel Night, his expression softer than usual, looking down at Piglet in his arms. 

She had cropped the top of it obviously, before posting it on IG. It was only Piglet in the circle of muscular, tattooed arms. She titled it simply ‘Making New Friends’ #puglyfe #Pigletthepug and the photo received 368K likes, and over 55K comments, mostly about whose arms these were and who was Piglet’s ‘new friend’. 

She should’ve deleted the photo from her phone.

She should have. There was absolutely no reason to keep it. It served its purpose, it was all the rage on Piglet’s page and there was no further use for it. Her finger had hovered over the delete button for two days now, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. Why? Because Piglet looked so good and comfy? That had to be the reason.

She was definitely going to delete it tomorrow.

-

It was Friday night, and Elain was ready for some pampering. At least this was her excuse for not going out on a Friday night yet again. But she had a busy week and she was owed a little time to herself. 

It was half past eight, and she just sunk into her favourite armchair in her bedroom with her e-reader. Piglet was on the bed, with her phone propped for him, dog videos playing with the sound low. Whenever he liked what he saw, he emitted a satisfied growl, which resembled a cackle. Therefore, even though she was immersed in her book, his angry growl got her attention, because it was followed by the distinctive ping of FaceTime.

Who the hell was FaceTiming her at this time? Also, she rarely video chatted with anyone anyway. 

She stretched, almost falling out of the chair, but managed to grab the phone, almost getting her finger bit by her disgruntled dog. 

“Hell-...o,” her voice died as she was faced with none other than Azriel Night. 

He looked like he was in bed, his face sharp and as handsome as ever, but not as tense as what she was used to. The man’s appearance was both his blessing and his curse. He was outrageously good looking, his face both elegant and perfect, but also typically inscrutable and emotionless. He was not a good person to read facial cues off, and that made it difficult for Elain to understand whether he was serious or not, pleased or displeased, happy or angry or sad. 

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match

Find me a find

Match me a match!”

Azriel sang to her. 

Her mouth was hanging open.

His voice was…nice. Husky. Sexy. And he sang well, which literally made no sense whatsoever. But he did?

“A girl’s night in, I see?” he asked, smirking. “And here I thought you’d be hitting the clubs. Bumping and grinding,”

“No one says ‘bumping and grinding’ anymore,” Elain told him. 

“Yeah, I know. But I just brought it back and made it cool again,” he announced nonchalantly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you ringing me on a Friday evening? How did you even get this number?”

“Ms. Archeron, you gave me the number,” he reminded her. 

“No I didn’t!”

“No, you most certainly did.”

Thinking back to the last time he was at her office, Elain recalled what had transpired and cringed inwardly. She couldn't believe that she gave him her personal number!! She never did this. She always, always gave her clients her business number and never picked up on the weekends.

“Fine,” she admitted her oversight. “I gave you the number. Why are you ringing me?”

Azriel made himself comfortable against the pillow, and it stuck Elain just how intimate this was–both of them on camera, in their respective bedrooms, late at night. This was highly, highly irregular.

“Couple of reasons really,” he said casually. “Firstly, I know my schedule for next week and therefore, I wanted to book your time,”

“You make it sound like I am a hooker,” she winced, wrinkling her nose.

“Naw. You’d make the worst hooker in history,” he chuckled and Elain gasped at the audacity of her words. “Maybe as a matchmaker you are managing, but as a hooker,” he tsked. “No chance.”

“And why is that?”

“You challenging me on that, Ms, Archeron?”

“Simply curious.”

“Easy. You like things done your way–obsessively. You are a control freak,”

“Oh, back to insults I see,”

“I ain’t insulting you, matchmaker. Just stating facts. And a hooker’s job is to do the things that the client tells her to do. So there is that.”

“Oh, phew. I am not terribly broken up because according to Mr. Night I won’t make a successful prostitute.

“Besides this odd conversation, anything else?”

He thought for a moment and then grinned, exposing his perfect teeth. He looked so handsome when he smiled it was unfair. Unfair to all men.

“Guess what I am doing?” he teased.

“Lounging about, by the looks of it,” Elain shrugged. She feigned indifference, but Azriel could see through it–she was curious.

“Take a guess,” he encouraged her. “Come on. Humour me!”

Elain bubbled her lips and finally said,

“Probably eating or drinking something.”

“Yes!” he nodded and then reached and showed her two biscuits.

“Are those the same ones?” she gasped.

“Sure are!” he winked at her and then stuffed both in his mouth. Chewing with comical energy, he chomped and said, “nom, nom, nom’.

At that, Elain burst into laughter, like she couldn’t help herself.

“You are mad!” she cried. “I can’t believe you are still eating these!”

“Why? they are really good,” he insisted. “Delectable. And I think you might have to bake some more for our next meeting.”

“Or is that so?”

“It is so.”

“I suppose I should,” she conceded. “I can’t believe that you just pulled a ‘nom, nom’...So you wouldn’t have to drag them with you all over the country.”

Azriel paused, looking at him, slightly perplexed.

“Do you know where I am?” he asked at last.

Elain thought for a second, then simply told him, “Manchester”.

His face dropped and he glared at her in shock.

After a long pause, where she enjoyed his surprise and confusion, he finally asked, “How do you know?”

“Arsenal is playing Manchester United tomorrow–in Manchester. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Wait. Are you telling me that you like football?”

“Is it really so far-fetched that I might?” she inquired, relishing in her victory. 

“Wait a minute,” he even sat up in his bed, staring at the phone. “Wait. What is your team?” he demanded roughly. “And if you say Chelsea…Well, I don’t know what I’d do, but it would be something bad!”

She laughed. 

“You are mental.”

He didn’t react to the insult, other than asking roughly,

“What. Club. Ms. Archeron?”

“Tottenham, if you must know. With Arsenal not far behind. You ought to know that the Duke of Velaris,”

“Oh yeah, Granny Elain’s hot piece on the side,” Azriel chuckled, “what’d he do?”

“Being a military man,” Elain said, ignoring his quip, “he helped in the formation of Arsenal with the armoury workers. Better that they played ball than got drunk on gin.”

“So I am indirectly connected to your Duke? Captaining his team?”

“It’s not his team, and he isn’t my Duke, but he did love my gran.”

Azriel considered it and then murmured, “the plot thickens, doesn’t it? So, my stats that you rattled out the first day? You knew who I was? All that info?”

“Of course,” she shrugged. “I mean, the height and the weight I got from the roster. But I knew your background and who you were.”

“Well, well,” he complained, “that doesn’t seem fair at all.”

“What doesn’t?”

“That you know all these things about me, and I know very little about you.”

“That’s not unfair,” Elain argued. “That’s normal. I need to know things about you, but you don’t need to know anything about me.”

“I beg to differ. Like, I don’t even know what your success rate is? In your matchmaking? Maybe you're piss poor awful? I doubt it, but what if,”

“I am not piss poor awful, Mr. Night. I am very successful.” With some pride in her voice, she added,  “I’ve worked with 88 couples. You are my 89th client. Out of the 88, I’ve had, so far, 81 marriages.”

“Shiiit,” Azriel whistled.

“3 couples did not work out, unfortunately. The rest are still dating. I am quite good at what I do, Mr. Night. I’ll find you a fine wife.”

“Ughehhh,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Wednesday afternoon, are you free?” he asked instead.

“Why? Is that when you are available?”

“Yes. But I’d like to take you out,”

“Mr. Night,” she started immediately, but he interrupted her,

“Not a date, Ms. Archeron. Calm the fuck down. You ain’t my type,”

“About 5 days ago, you literally said that you wanted your wife to look and act like me. Make up your mind, Mr. Night.”

Azriel laughed.

“You got me there. But really, I am not asking you on a date or anything preposterous like that. Just wanna get out of the office. I have just the place.”

“Just the place…”

“Yeah, I am betting my bollocks that you’ll love it!”

“Keep your bollocks. Let me see,” she looked up her calendar on her phone and said, “I can do 3 pm, if that works for you.”

“Perfect! I’ll pick you up.”

“What shall I wear?” she inquired, now very interested in where he was planning to take her.

“Clothes. Pearls. Your usual posh shit.”

“Posh shit. Got it.”

He continued, “Now, the other reason I rang,”

“Which is?”

“Would like to say ‘hello’ to my mate Pinky.”

“No one by that name here,” Elain said firmly.

“Aww, don’t be like that. Lemmie talk to the wee lad! I bet he missed me.”

“I doubt it.”

“What was he doing when I rang?”

“Watching videos,” Elain told him reluctantly.

“His doggie videos?”

“That’s what he likes.”

“He also likes me. So let us have a chat.”

With a dramatic sigh, she brought the phone closer to Piglet’s face and heard Azriel exclaim,

“Hey big lad! How are you doing?”

Hearing Azriel’s voice made Piglet actually raise his head and his tail wiggled.

“I missed you. Do you have a pretty bow on?” Azriel continued, her voice all sing-songy and cooey. Elain dipped the phone a bit and Azriel saw Piglet’s bow, which was a chequered tartan today. 

“Ohhh, you are handsome!”

Bark. Piglet barked in agreement.

“I had a client from Scotland today,” Elain explained. “He loved the bow.”

“Scotsman also needs a wife?” Azriel asked.

“That’s why people come to me. They either need a husband or a wife.”

“Did Pinky like him?”

Elain looked back at the phone and told him, “He doesn’t really like anyone,”

“He likes me!” Azriel protested.

“Only.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Piglet doesn’t really trust humans. I think he knows that the previous family didn’t want him because of his leg and that when he was hurt, they abandoned him. And after that…well, I don’t know if he understands the concept of death, but I feel like he knew that they didn’t want him alive anymore. That they left him behind and would never come back for him. 

“So he doesn’t really care about humans. He tolerates them, but he only loves me. And the only other person he ever responded to willingly, is…”

“Who?”

“You.”

Azriel didn’t say anything to that.

Elain stroked the dog’s back gently, looking down at him, seemingly having forgotten that Azriel was still on the phone.

“Put him on, will you,” he requested again.

She jerked out of her thoughts and then put the phone in front of the pug.

“You be good,” Azriel ordered him gently. “Take care of Ellie, alright? Remember, lad, you are the man of the house. I trust you to protect our girl when I am not there.”

Bark-bark.

“That’s right. You get me. Miss you, mate. Put Ellie back on the phone.”

Elain just gawked back, unable to form any words. What the HELL was that?

Ellie?

Protect?

OUR GIRL?

What in the world?

“We are kindred spirits, Pink and I,” Azriel decided. “He sees me. And I get him.”

“What?” she breathed, still trying to wrap her mind around everything that she just heard.

“I know about abandonment too…and Pinky recognises that,” Azriel said easily. “You know, when I was 8 years old, my father lost a game of cards. He didn’t have the money to pay, so he offered me, as a consolation prize. The men who played with him–well, they decided that it would be fun to light my hands on fire and see how long it would take for them to burn. And burn they did. When someone finally heard my screams, they rang the emergency services.

“My father and my step-mother never came to see me in the hospital, before I was moved to a foster home. So like I said, I know about abandonment.”

Elain was so shocked, she gasped in horror, staring back at him.

“He knows what it’s like not to be needed,” Azriel added softly and then winked at her. “Enjoy your beauty treatments, matchmaker. I’ll see you on Wednesday. Also, you better root for us tomorrow. G’night.”

With that, he clicked off, leaving Elain bewildered and emotionally destroyed.

-

He would never, ever, ever admit this to anyone, including himself, but Azriel Night was slightly intimidated by Elain Archeron.

She didn't exactly threaten him physically, but psychologically, there was something about her that made him…nervous. Unsure of himself. And he wasn’t a very confident man to begin with. Elain had noticed his self-esteem issues almost instantly–one of the very few people who did–and that made hiding himself from her even more complicated. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly about her, but she made him want to be better. Present the best version of himself. He still yearned to be himself in front of her, because as strange as that was, she seemed to accept him. But he wanted to be someone she enjoyed dealing with. She was judgy, but she didn’t judge him. He annoyed her because he didn’t take her and her work seriously–which he didn’t–but despite their head-butting, Azriel wanted her to like him…Oh Jesus. He sounded like an emotional teenage girl at a sleepover even to himself. 

Why?

She was a pearl-wearing weirdo who had more complexes than she had cardigans. Why did he care what she thought about him? Why?

But he did.

So before he picked up the phone and FaceTimed her, he actually did some push ups. He knew that she had one soft spot–her dog–and he was fully prepared to use Pinky to his advantage. He had the biscuits all prepared, ready to spring them up on her at any moment. But he sure didn’t expect to be talking football and finding out about that side of her. And then getting excited about that…like an emotional teenage girl at a sleepover. Nevertheless, he had all these topics prepared in advance, so he could have a smooth conversation with her…and what he didn’t expect to do was to fuck it all up and tell her about how he got his hands burnt. Absolutely unnecessary. Totally inappropriate. He should’ve stopped when things were funny and light, and when she looked surprised and frazzled and adorable (his favourite look on her). But he went ahead and destroyed it all like a damn sledge hammer. What was wrong with him? Everything. That was the simplest answer. Everything.

He sat in his boxers on the bed, his head buried in his hands. 

It rained outside and he wasn’t looking forward to the game tomorrow, because the weather promised to be abysmally bad and he’d have to run for 90 minutes in the pouring rain. Oh joy. 

Therefore, when his phone rang, Azriel jumped, startled.

It was FaceTime.

He had her under ‘Cute Matchmaker’ in his phone, and she was calling him now. Not even ten minutes after they hung up.

He exhaled and pressed the button.

Before he could say anything, make a joke, or tease, he was faced with Elain’s tear-covered face, her huge, cartoonishly enormous round eyes wet and brimming over with tears. She’d removed all her little beauty patches that she had clearly forgotten about when they were speaking before. Now, it was just her pale, beautiful and grief-stricken face.

“Why did you tell me?” she sobbed. 

He was taken aback and was at a loss for words. He watched her wipe her eyes with her first, but tears just flowed out of her eyes in little rivulets.

“How…how,” she hiccuped, “could they…why? How could they…you were eight…”

She choked back a sob and all Azriel wanted to do was beg her to stop crying, explain that it was over twenty years ago and that it was the past, but he also knew that it would cheapen the emotion of her reaction.

“It’s not human, to do something like that,” she wept. “To take a little boy and maim him like that…Why?”

“People do cruel things all the time,” Azriel’s voice was hollow. 

“But…but…” she gulped in the air, snot and tears mixing together on her face.

“I am sorry,” Azriel said sincerely. “This wasn’t my intention. I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“I can’t believe that something so awful happens in our world,” Elain admitted naively, “it’s incomprehensible.”

Worse things happened in this world, and Azriel had seen many of them, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure whether Elain Archeron, matchmaker to the rich and powerful, the little delicate pearl-wearing oddity was very adept at living in the real world. She existed on a different plane: enigmatic and sincere in her nature, maybe a little too innocent, but that’s kind of what attracted Azriel to her. Why, despite finding her difficult and mystifying at times, puzzling and irritating he relished in her uniqueness.

“Bad things happen,” he only concluded with general vagueness about his statement. 

“I can’t accept that,”

Azriel wanted to argue, tell her that she was being glib, that it wasn’t a matter of her acceptance and that she needed to accept that some people were born in shit, lived in shit and died in shit. That children were abused and that often, parents were the ones who abused them. He wanted to tell her to get her head out of her arse and face the world in all its ugliness.

But he didn’t say any of that.

He made Elain cry, and it made him feel like a massive arsehole for some reason. Instead of laying harsh truths on her, he wanted to protect and shield her from those very truths. This was a girl who rescued three legged pugs from certain death and then put bows on them. 

“Will you stop crying?” he asked gently.

“No, I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how horrible it was.”

She sniffled and trembled, and he watched her and Pinky as he rubbed his head against her arm, trying to comfort her. The dog whimpered sadly, not understanding why she was so upset. 

Azriel thought frantically, trying to find a way out of this mess, until something popped into his head. Something that he and Cassian used to do when they were in the group home, to make themselves feel better about their lives.

“Can I make it all better?” he requested quietly.

She looked at him, blinking over her tears.

“How?” she wiped her face again.

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“Ha!”

“Don’t argue with me, woman,” he ordered sternly. “Get your arse in bed, and under the blanket.”

She glared at him suspiciously, not understanding what he wanted. 

Prodding her over the phone wasn’t exactly easy, but he nodded and said, “Come on, lass. Don’t be stubborn. Under the sheets you go.”

The phone wobbled and jolted, but he knew that she followed his directive and in the next moment, she was holding the phone to her face.

“Turn on your side,” he instructed.

She dared to roll her eyes at him, but did as he told her.

“Now what? How is this making me feel better?”

“Ms. Archeron, be quiet for one sec and quit making a fuss. Trust the fucking process.”

“Remember how we discussed language?” she cocked a brow at him.

“Remember how we discussed not being annoying and bossy all the time?”

“We never discussed that.”

“We are discussing it now.”

“Is this sexting? Is this what we are doing?” she suddenly popped her head up from the pillow and stared at him in horror.

Azriel attempted to smother a laugh, though it came out as a loud snort. 

“Do you have any idea what sexting is?”

“Yes, talking sex stuff on the phone. And if this is your idea of making it all better, this is a hard pass. I am not sexting with you.”

“No sexting. You are not my type,” he reminded her.

She only scoffed in indignation at his words.

He quickly added,

“Unless you really want to do some sexting with me. I am quite good at it,”

“No doubt,”

“Good at dirty talk. I’ll understand. No judgement. If the ginger bloke isn’t hitting all the spots–which I am guessing he isn’t since you are home alone with your dog on a Friday night–then I can help out…relieve some tension. No strings attached.”

“You are obsessed with the ‘ginger bloke’ as you call him,” Elain pointed out. 

“More like fascinated with what man would date you?”

She winced at his words and he immediately realised that he didn’t say the right thing. Not at all.

“So in your mind, I am so undateable that only the most odd and deranged man would grace me with his merciful presence?” she whispered and a sad tear rolled down her cheek.

“I am sorry! That’s not what I meant,” he pleaded at once. “I didn’t say it right…”

“No you didn’t,” she concluded. “I am sorry, Mr. Night, but I am tired and upset and your idea of making me feel better isn’t working. Good night.”

“No, no,” he exclaimed quickly, attempting to salvage the situation. “Please. Just stay on the line for a second. I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to know who you chose to be your boyfriend? What does he have that no one else’s got to make you fall for him? Is all. That’s all I meant.”

“You are brutish and aggressive and rude,” she told him, sniffling.

“I know,” he confirmed.

“You are supposed to argue!”

“Why argue if it’s the truth? Now. Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes.”

Elain closed her eyes. 

“Think about it, but not too long. And then describe your ideal day,” he urged quietly.

“I don’t know what my ideal day is,” she argued softly. 

“Well, create it for me. Create it in your mind. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go? Who do you want to be with?”

She thought, her brow furrowing and a cute little line appearing between her brows.

At last, she told him, “In London. I want to be in London,”  her eyes were still closed. “I want to wake up and it’s quiet, but I know that I am in the city. I don’t linger for too long, but I do take the longest shower, with like…10 shower heads!”

Azriel smiled at that, but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

“And then I dress in something very comfortable–joggers maybe, or a nice tracksuit. Soft and loose. And then, I would go downstairs and there would be breakfast. A full English–fry bread and beans and black pudding. The whole deal. And I would eat it all. All the sausages and all the eggs. And I’d drink all the tea too. And once I am done eating, the door would open and in would come Piglet, and behind him, my husband. And he would…”

She stopped talking.

Azriel waited.

There was more to her dream than just devouring a full English. There was something that she was apprehensive about sharing, but wanted him to know. 

Azriel knew people–he could read them fairly easily, and Elain wasn’t exactly complicated. But he was the captain of his team, and he had to operate and adjust all the time throughout the game, reading his teammates’ moods and needs. 

So as he waited for Elain to say more, he already suspected what it would be. 

“He’d be pushing a pram,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “With our children in it.”

“He is good, this husband of yours,” Azriel commented simply. “Makes you breakfast. Takes the dog out. Minds the children.”

“He loves me. And I love him,” she murmured.

“What’s he look like?”

“He is tall.”

“Anything else?”

“No. He is tall.”

“How many children?” 

“Four. I mean, two when I think about it. But eventually, four. Why do you want to know?”

“Four is a good number,” he approved. “What else? Tell me more.”

“I think I’d like to go to Portobello Road Market and get lost in the crowds and find fun things there to buy.”

Not what he expected, but alright. He leaned towards a fancier store. Not fucking Portobello Road Market. 

“Piglet loves it there,” she added. “He loves crowds. And then we can stop by my sister Nesta’s house and have lunch. Or no…no, no,” she shook her head vigorously. “I want something else!”

“Okay, what do you want?”

“I want to go to Greenwich, to the park. I love that park and the observatory. And the views,”

“You’d be looking at where I live,” he smiled.

“What? Where do you live?”

“Canary Wharf.”

“Ohhh,” she whistled softly. “Fancy! You are a footballer, I guess it makes sense. It’s either that, or Primrose Hill or a big pile in Surrey or something,”

“You are right.” Azriel was amused. But she wasn’t wrong.

“So, we’ve gone all the way from Bloomsbury, to Notting Hill, to Greenwich…Where to now? After the park? What did you do at the park by the way?”

“Played with Piglet. With my husband.”

“Uh-uh. And?”

“And then we need to go to a pub because I’d be tired.”

“Legit.”

“Get a couple of drinks…”

“So your ideal day is travelling around London and eating?”

“Basically yes. I love eating so much,” she admitted dreamily. “Afterwards, I want to have tea somewhere too. At a nice place. Maybe at the Goring.”

“Are you still wearing your tracksuit? And hauling around your dog and kids?” Azriel teased, and she stuck her tongue at him, in a very unlady-like gesture, and un-Elain-like reaction. 

“You are messing up my dream day!”

“Sorry. Just trying to picture you in your very comfy joggers at the Goring. What else then? Where are we finishing this day? A swanky restaurant? A bar?”

Decisively, she said, “no! We’d go to my favourite place.”

“I am waiting here with bated breath, Ms. Archeron. What is your favourite place?”

“G Kelly, Mr. Night. I get a meat pie with small liquor and mash and apple crumble with custard.”

“What the fuck do you know about G Kelly?” he gaped at her through the screen. 

“You are so rude. I like what I like, Mr. Night. Leave me alone. And my husband will love it too!”

“I mean, I love the place, but come on,”

“What does it have to do with you?”

“Aren’t you marrying me? I am tall. I can make babies. I’ll take Pinky out.”

“You are unhinged,” he said flatly. 

“Tell me that you are at least considering it?”

“Marrying you? Hardly.”

“Don’t you want your own bit o’rough?”

“You are not a bit o’rough, Mr. Night. You are a multi-millionaire who lives in Canary Wharf. As I said before, you need to get out of your own head. You are adored by millions and you play for one of the best teams in the world. Yes, you grew up rough, but that’s all behind you,”

“Is it?”

“It is. I grew up as a normal child and I was exposed to many different people and places. I am not as posh as you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You feeling better, Ms. Archeron?”

She considered it and then nodded, “I am. Thank you. This was surprising, but it did the trick.”

“I know. Well, sleep well then. I expect you to watch the game tomorrow and root for us. And for me.”

“Oh, is that an order?”

“Yeah, it kind of is. We’ll be discussing it on Wednesday. Don’t get in trouble meanwhile.”

“Oh, I’ll do my best,” she promised, hiding her smile.

“‘Night, big lad,” Azriel called out loudly. “You be good too.”

Piglet was already asleep. 

-

The more you know…

[fics-by-em]

Amorous Facades - Chapter Two

A wild night out leaves the lives of Jamie Tartt and Ophelia Adams more intertwined than they ever would have imagined.

Will their decision to try and use the situation to their advantage work out in their favour or will they realize that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance?

———-

previous chapter

———-

Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged or commented on the last chapter! I'm so excited to hear what everyone thinks about this story and every comment really means so much so please let me know what you think!

———-

There was something about pulling up outside her mediocre-at-best flat in Jamie’s fancy car that had the situation really hitting home for Lia. 

The contrast between her humble abode and his incredibly expensive vehicle had her realizing that she was entering a world that she had no business being in and that she didn’t really know what she was getting herself into. Jamie had so easily trusted her with a car that was so far out of her price range that it was hard to even imagine and maybe he made enough money that he didn’t care if she simply stole it and never spoke to him again or maybe it was worth the risk for what he potentially stood to gain, but she had agreed to move in with him - basically a complete stranger - with hardly more than a second thought and for very little potential reward. Her behaviour in the last twenty-four hours really was starting to feel like a perfect showcase for why alcohol was harmful to the human brain because clearly she’d lost all common sense.

But she was committed to it now. 

She’d promised Jamie that she would give it a try and she wasn’t going to back out before it even started - letting people down was just not something she was programmed to do - so, with a sigh, she pulled her phone out of her bag on the passenger seat beside her as she tried to work up the courage to go inside and face the storm that she knew was waiting for her. The twenty-eight unread text messages and fourteen missed calls from Katie were enough to make her want to drive away forever and start a new life somewhere else, but she knew that her friend would be worried - especially because she couldn’t remember saying goodbye to her before leaving the club with Jamie. She typed out and deleted several replies to the string of long and increasingly frantic messages, but in the end she decided that going inside and explaining things in person would be the right thing to do.

But she regretted that decision as soon as she walked through the door.

“What the fuck, Lia?!” Katie practically shrieked before she even had the chance to close the door behind her. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I was fine,” Lia weakly argued, knowing how she would feel if the tables were turned. “I did message you to let you know that.”

She’d seen the message when she’d scrolled back through their conversation and she knew the garbled drunken text did very little to strengthen her argument and the roll of Katie’s eyes showed her agreement with that thought.

“That message was hardly reassuring, it made no sense!”

“Well, you didn’t seem very worried at the time.”

It was a fair counterpoint considering Katie had simply replied with something along the lines of ‘hope you’re having fun’ and a winking emoji, but the reminder did little to ease her flatmate’s frustration.

“Because I thought you left with Daniel!”

Even just the sound of his name had Lia’s mood quickly shifting. She’d felt guilty for vanishing and for ignoring Katie’s messages that morning while she sorted things out with Jamie - she completely understood why that would be worrisome for her friend and she knew she wouldn’t have appreciated the silence had she been in Katie’s position - but hearing those words leave Katie’s mouth had her suddenly no longer feeling very apologetic.

“Why would you think that?”

She didn’t even bother keeping the disgust out of her voice and Katie shrugged in response.

“Because we went to dance and when we came back you were both gone.”

“Well, I don’t know where he went,” Lia admitted. “But he stormed off shortly after you two went to the dancefloor - right after Jamie stopped him from attacking me.”

The look on Katie’s face could only be described as skeptical and Mike - who had been watching them quietly from the couch, staying out of it as he usually did when they started bickering about anything - drew their attention as he let out a groan of protest.

“We’re all tired, Lia,” he sighed. “Let’s not start with all that right now.”

There was something about his scolding, disappointed tone that had Lia wanting to do as he said and let it all go. He’d become like a brother to her over the years that he dated Katie and she didn’t want to hurt him or create any problems for him, but she was tired. She was tired of being forced to be around Daniel - a man who had never shown her even an ounce of respect - and being treated like a whiny baby whenever she tried to tell them how upsetting his behaviour was for her.

“I’m not trying to start anything, but it’s true,” she told them, keeping her voice soft in an attempt to prevent the usual argument. “He forced me to sit in his lap as soon as you two left the table and then when I managed to get away and headed to the bar, he followed me and tried to grab me even when I was very clear that I wanted him to stop.”

Katie had the decency to look surprised by what she shared, but Mike was clearly not bothered as he rolled his eyes.

“He just fancies you. He doesn’t know how to flirt, that’s all it is.”

A scoff fell from Lia’s lips as she couldn’t believe how easily he dismissed her concerns and her disbelief only deepened when she saw Katie relax as she accepted the way that Mike explained away his friend’s indiscretions. Maybe it was the fact that Daniel’s persistence the night before had truly frightened her or maybe it was because her hangover and her unbelievable morning had her already feeling emotionally maxed out, but she found herself quickly losing her patience and her ability to bite her tongue just to keep the peace.

“That’s not all it is,” she insisted. “He’s a predator! And I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Jamie hadn’t shown up when he did.”

“A predator?” Mike questioned, the word laced with incredulity. “He’s my best mate!” 

“I know that, but you still need to hold him accountable and I’m fed up of you making excuses for him,” she informed him, crossing her arms as she turned to face Katie. “And I’m supposed to be your best friend so it hurts that you always take Daniel’s side over mine.”

In an instant, any hint of sheepishness disappeared from Katie’s face as Lia’s accusation had her recoiling as if she’d been slapped.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” Her words were said with a laugh, but it was obvious that Katie didn’t find the situation at all amusing. “You wanna talk about betrayals? Why don’t we talk about how you got married without even telling me that you were seeing anyone!”

It felt like a cheap way to deflect from Lia’s very valid complaints, but she was surprised it hadn’t come up already and a sigh fell from her lips as she explained.

“I’m not married. That whole wedding last night was just for a laugh, it’s not a legal thing,” she assured her, but she braced herself for Katie’s reaction as she added, “But Jamie and I have been dating for a couple of months so we’re going to let people think that we’re married to see if it helps turn his reputation around a little bit.”

She’d hoped that by the time she had to explain their plan, she would have thought of a way to make it sound a little less insane, but from the dropped jaws and blank stares her news received it was obvious that it still seemed just as crazy as it had when Jamie had first suggested it. She gave them a moment to process her words, but just as she was about to offer some more reassurance, Katie found the strength to speak.

“Are you still drunk?” She blurted out. “You must still be drunk or I’m going to start worrying that you’ve lost the plot.”

“No, I’m completely sober.”

“Okay, then you’ve lost your mind,” Katie decided. “Because the Lia that I know would never agree to pretend to be married to a footballer that she doesn’t even know.”

“I do know him,” Lia insisted, feeling a pang of guilt for pushing the lie she was trying to sell to her best friend. “I told you, we’ve been dating for the last few months.”

“Oh, really?” Katie huffed, her hands settling on her hips as her scepticism was written all over her face. “Then why have I never heard about it? Or met him?”

“He asked me to be discreet,” Lia shrugged, the lie making her throat tighten as she tried to be convincing. “Until we were more serious. So I told you that I was working late if I was going to see him and he only stayed over if I knew you would be at Mike’s.”

“Where did you meet?”

“At the bookstore when I was working,” she informed her, thinking back to the story that they’d come up with in Rebecca’s office. “He came in looking for a book for his mum and I helped him find it.”

“I’m not surprised he needed help,” Mike sniggered from the couch. “I doubt Jamie Tartt could read any of the titles without someone there to help him sound out the words.”

It was similar to the joke that Roy had made and she remembered how much it had annoyed Jamie. As Katie laughed along with Mike, Lia suddenly felt a flash of protectiveness over her new ‘boyfriend’ and their ‘holier than thou’ attitude was really beginning to get under her skin.

“You don’t even know him,” she snapped. “But we’re moving in together so maybe you can come over sometime and actually meet him before you judge him so harshly.”

There was another stunned silence, but the next words out of Katie’s mouth only added to Lia’s frustration.

“Is he paying you?”

“No! You know I’m not like that! I care about him, Katie. We’d been talking about it anyway so with all this marriage stuff happening it just makes sense.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Katie huffed. “He’s a manwhore and from what I’ve seen he’s pretty proud of it so you must be really naive if you’re willing to go along with this insane scheme to trick the general public into thinking that Jamie Tartt isn’t a huge slut when he absolutely is.”

“He’s changed and he deserves a second chance.” Considering the brief amount of time she’d spent in his presence, Lia wasn’t entirely sure she believed that statement herself, but her irritation towards them had her giving a truly Oscar worthy performance as she defended her actions. “And I think it’s pretty disgusting that you’re more against me being with someone whose only supposed issue is that he used to be promiscuous than with a dangerous pervert like Daniel!”

“Oi!” Mike barked from the couch. “Stop slagging off my best mate!”

“Everything I’ve said about him is true and you both know it.” Lia’s gaze fell on Katie as she waited for her to speak up - to agree and finally take her side in the seemingly never ending debate - but Katie appeared to suddenly be very interested in a spec of dirt on the carpet and was no longer able to meet her eye. Tears pricked the corners of Lia’s eyes as she gave Katie a moment longer to do the right thing, but when she was met with a lingering silence, she scoffed as she shook her head. “Whatever. I’m going to go pack some things, but I’ll come back to get everything another day and I’ll pay rent for the next two months so you have time to find someone else or figure something out.”

Going into the conversation, Lia had planned to offer to pay her share of the rent indefinitely. With the uncertainty of her arrangement with Jamie, she didn’t want to set herself up to have nowhere to live in a couple of months if it all fell apart, but after what had been said and the continued lack of support in regards to Daniel’s unwanted advances, she was rethinking that decision. She felt hurt, she felt disrespected and she felt like staying in their flat or leaving the door open to return would just be accepting the way they minimized her feelings and would let them think that she was okay with everything that had happened.

She hesitated - leaving space for Katie to stop her, to finally take her side when it really and truly mattered - but when the only response was a huff of annoyance and a roll of her eyes, Lia hung her head and accepted the situation as she marched to her room to start packing her things.

The flat suddenly felt suffocating. 

The place that she’d called home for over a year now felt cold and unwelcoming and she was so desperate to get away that she was almost tempted to leave without taking anything, but she knew some time away from her so-called best friend would be the best choice and the only way to do that was to focus and take enough things to last her a couple weeks at least. 

She started working quickly - in an uncharacteristically unmethodical and sloppy way - and it didn’t take her long to have two suitcases and a few tote bags ready to go. Not eager for another argument to start, she was anxious to even leave her room and was almost relieved by the cold shoulder she received from Katie as she took the first couple of loads out to the car. However, she wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye so as she leaned her final suitcase against the door, she paused.

“Alright, well that’s it for now,” she informed the couple who were sitting on the couch. “I’ll let you know when I come back for everything else.”

“Okay,” Katie nodded and the wounded look on her face almost made Lia feel guilty for rushing off after their argument, but the words that followed had her guard immediately going back up. “I just have to ask, who told you this whole pretend marriage thing was a good idea?”

“Well, it was Jamie’s idea,” she admitted. “But I agreed and so did AFC Richmond’s head of marketing.”

“Is that Keeley Jones?” 

Despite the surprise she felt at Katie’s sudden knowledge of the staffing team of a random football club, it seemed like an innocent enough question and Lia nodded her head. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Katie laughed, a smirk sliding onto her face that had Lia’s stomach tightening in knots. “Did you know that she’s his ex-girlfriend? She’s probably just pawning him off on you to get him out of her own hair.”

While that little tidbit of information had Lia feeling very confused and surprised that no one had thought to mention it at their meeting, what bothered her the most was how smug Katie was as she told her. She wasn’t sharing the news with the intention of gently coaxing Lia away from a situation that she thought was bad, she was sharing it to prove a point in some kind of big ‘gotcha’ moment. So, Lia kept her face steady as she shrugged.

“I know, we’ve met before,” she lied. “But she isn’t pawning him off on me, I care about him and I want to be with him.”

Her insistence was met with nothing more than another sarcastic laugh from her friend and Lia turned away, walking out the door without even wasting her breath to say goodbye.

------

Should I be concerned?

The text came through from her father that evening as Lia sat at the table in the dining area of Jamie’s kitchen - her kitchen - with a mug of tea in front of her. She felt a flash of anxiety as a link to the article came through immediately after to let her know what he was referring to and she quickly typed out a reply.

No, everything’s fine. I’m not married but if anyone asks, just tell them I am. I’ll explain tomorrow.

Almost immediately he sent back a thumbs up and a heart and after her disastrous experience with Katie that afternoon, she was relieved that he was choosing to take a more understanding approach. She wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be happy about the situation once he found out all the details, but she knew that he would support her no matter what and she was still reeling from the disappointment of finding out that her best friend didn’t feel the same.

She let out a sigh as she put her phone back down on the counter and looked around the room. She hadn’t been entirely surprised to find Jamie’s cupboards and fridge rather lacking when it came to food. There were plenty of protein powders and energy drinks, but the kitchen was pretty devoid of anything with any real nutrition. The house was tidy though - more so than she’d expected from a young, hotshot bachelor - and it was far more luxurious than the tiny two bedroom flat that she’d been living in before.

Again, she found herself reflecting on the fact that pretending to be married to Jamie Tartt wasn’t the worst situation in the world, but when she heard the door handle click as it turned and the creak of the front door opening she couldn’t deny the nerves that hit her.

Strolling into the kitchen a moment later, Jamie flashed her a smile as he tossed his coat onto the back of one of the chairs across from her.

“Hiya, you alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

She tried to match his welcoming smile, but it felt strained and from the skeptical look that slid onto Jamie’s face, he’d noticed it too.

“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching down to his coat pocket. “I actually got something for ya.”

“You did?” The surprise was clear in her voice, but she couldn’t deny that after the combative afternoon she’d had the gesture had her feeling very touched. However, when he slid a small velvet box across the table and she opened it to reveal a much larger and fancier ring than the one currently resting on her finger, the surprise shifted into shock and awe. “Jamie…this is too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Course you can,” Jamie insisted. “Can’t have you walkin’ around with a ring like that. It looks like I bought it at Poundland.”

Despite her reluctance to accept the expensive gift sitting in front of her, his observation was very accurate and Lia couldn’t hold back the giggle that slipped from her lips.

“You probably did buy it at Poundland,” she mused, admiring the cheap ring on her finger. “Where else would we have found rings in the middle of the night? Especially ones this tacky.”

“Exactly, that’s why you need one that’s a bit more flashy,” Jamie insisted. “And then when this is all over you can sell it or whatever, get something for your trouble.”

“Oh, I see, this is your sneaky way of still trying to pay me for all this.”

“No!” An indignant scowl slid onto Jamie’s face, but his furrowed brow relaxed as Lia’s attempt at keeping a straight face broke into a smile. “You can keep it forever for all I care. Save it as a memory of me to get you through those long, lonely nights.”

“I’m sure it’ll provide a lot of comfort.”

The sarcasm in her voice had Jamie chuckling softly as he wandered into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water as Lia carefully took her new rings out of their box. She had to credit him for his good taste. Even though it was flashier than the costume jewellery they’d found the night before, it was simple and classy and she had to admit that it was almost exactly the kind of ring that she would like to be given in a real proposal. However, she was well aware that it was probably worth more than she earned in at least six months and the weight of how indulgent it felt to wear such a beautiful piece of jewellery weighed heavily on her finger as she slid it into place.

“Looks nice,” Jamie commented as he joined her again at the table. “So, why’d you look so miserable when I walked in here? Hope it wasn’t because you were thinking about being stuck with me.”

The sudden change in topic caught her off guard, but she was quickly learning that Jamie didn’t seem like the type to beat around the bush. He was direct, but she couldn’t quite figure out if he just didn’t want to waste time by sugarcoating things or if he just didn’t care enough to.

“No, I wasn’t,” she assured him. “I was just thinking about how I’m in the market for a new best friend.”

“Oh,” Jamie frowned. “Is she not a fan of me?”

“Apparently not,” she admitted. “And I think she thinks that’s why I’m upset, but for me it’s more to do with the man you saved me from last night.”

A flash of something dark crossed over Jamie’s face - something that felt almost protective - and Lia felt a little flicker of comfort despite the loneliness she’d been feeling before he came home.

“Yeah? What’s the story with that prick?”

“His name is Daniel and he’s my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend,” she explained, pausing as she watched him try to mentally follow the trail of people connecting her to the man in question. “He’s always made me uncomfortable. Even though I’ve told him a million times that I’m not interested in him, he keeps pestering me and trying to convince me.to give him a chance. He touches me all the time in ways that I don’t think are appropriate, but everyone just laughs it off when I complain about it. They make excuses for him all the time and I’ve had enough of it. I think that’s why he got so aggressive last night because I finally lost my patience with him and really put my foot down.”

“You should’ve used your foot to kick him in the fucking balls,” Jamie suggested. “Men like that are fucking disgusting.”

“I’m glad you agree. I told them about what happened when I went to get my stuff this morning and they just kept dismissing it and acting like I was overreacting, I was starting to feel like I was the crazy one,” Lia admitted, feeling a genuine wave of relief that Jamie hadn’t taken their side. From how quickly he’d come to her rescue the night before, she was fairly certain that he’d realized the severity of the situation, but she’d heard enough stories about professional athletes to doubt Jamie’s true intention when he’d helped her out. Which led her to her next point. “And then Katie started acting like you potentially being a bit promiscuous was just as bad - if not worse - than how Daniel had behaved and it just really upset me.”

The dark look quickly slid back onto Jamie’s face and Lia wondered if perhaps she should have kept that information to herself. 

“Are you serious? That’s a fucking joke,” he protested. “I mean, I’ve been lucky over the years, you know, sexually and yeah, maybe I could’ve been more respectful sometimes after the fact, but my mum raised me right and I would never harass a girl who tells me no or says she’s not interested.” 

There was a pleading edge to his voice that cut through his understandable indignation as if he wanted her to know that what he was saying was true and there was something sincere about his annoyance that had her nodding her head.

“I believe you,” she assured him. “I know we barely know anything about each other and I don’t know much about why your reputation is in such dire need of repair, but I’m very grateful for how you stepped in last night and I think you seem like a pretty decent guy.”

“I’m trying to be,” he insisted before adding a little more information, “But I’ve been known to be a little bit of cocky, selfish twat.”

His blunt admission had a laugh falling from Lia’s lips as she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from spitting tea all over the table.

“Well, it’s big of you to admit that now.”

“It’s true, I can’t deny it,” Jamie shrugged. “It’s…complicated. I just always felt that I had to be the best and then I was the best and I knew it. And I was so worried that people might think I’m weak that I acted so tough that no one could ever doubt me. But I can see now that it isn’t worth it, that it’s better to be a team player. I’m just trying to figure out how.”

“I think the fact that you can see your own faults and actually want to improve is a pretty great start,” Lia mused. “We all have flaws and being cocky and selfish aren’t impossible things to fix.”

“I hope so, but it’s left me with a few bridges to build.”

“And I’m sure you can do it.”

Lia flashed him what she hoped was a supportive smile and was relieved when he matched it with one of his own.

“So, what did the rest of your friends and family think about us being married?” He asked. “I hope I haven’t turned everyone against you.”

“No, I don’t think you have,” Lia assured him. “But the only person who’s reached out is my dad and he’s not worried.”

“No?”

“He trusts me,” she explained before laughing to herself at how ridiculous that claim might seem based on what Jamie knew of her. “Contrary to what last night might make you think, I don’t usually do wild stuff like get wasted and marry strangers. I don’t even drink very often and I almost never drink enough to not remember the whole night so he probably knows that I have a decent explanation for whatever happened.”

“Do you?”

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he questioned her that had her giggling again as she shrugged.

“No, I guess not, but I work at the bookstore with him so I have until tomorrow to come up with something reasonable.”

“Good luck to you,” Jamie teased. “And let me know if you do.”

“I will,” Lia smiled. “But what about you? How did your teammates take it? Have you told your family?”

“The team didn’t care, but I don’t know if most of them really care about me at all right now. And I don’t talk to my dad much, but I told my mom.” Just the mention of his mother had a soft smile sliding onto his face and Lia felt a flicker of endearment at his obvious love for her. “She told me me that you look smart.”

That claim had Lia barking out a laugh as she stared at him in disbelief.

“She saw a picture of me drunkenly marrying her son and thought that made me seem intelligent?”

“She’s a good judge of character.” Jamie told her, the pride shining through in his voice. “And she wants to meet you actually.”

“In Manchester?” Lia’s eyes lit up as she felt a flicker of excitement that only grew when Jamie shrugged and nodded his head. “That would be nice. I love Manchester, I spent a lot of time up there when I was younger.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lia nodded, smiling at how hopeful he sounded. “My aunt’s a teacher so I used to spend most summers with her so I didn’t have to go to work every day with my dad over the school break and her husband is proper Mancunian so they’ve lived there for as long as I can remember.”

“Proper Mancunian?” Jamie asked, suddenly looking a little sheepish. “Is he City or United?”

There wasn’t very much that Lia knew about football, but she was informed enough to know that those were the names of the two big teams in Manchester. However, she wasn’t informed enough to know exactly how to answer.

“Um, is one of them blue?” She asked, waiting for him to confirm before she continued with more confidence. “Then that’s the one he likes, the one that wears light blue.”

“Ah, probably won’t like me much either then.”

“Oh,” Lia frowned. “Why not?”

“I used to play for them, for Manchester City” he explained. “I left when I went on that show and definitely burned a few bridges. Almost wrecked my whole career actually, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if Richmond hadn’t taken me back.”

There was a sadness in his voice as he made that confession that really tugged on Lia’s heart. She believed that he was capable of being a ‘cocky twat’ as he’d so delicately put it - his own admissions and Katie’s harsh judgements supported that fact and she’d seen glimmers of it throughout their conversations - but even in their brief time together, it was obvious that there was more to him than most people thought. He had a softer side - a sweeter, funny side - and Lia felt a renewed sense that she was doing the right thing. He was clearly troubled by something and if he needed to get the public off his back and turn their opinion around to give him the confidence to work through his issues and become a better person than she was happy to help him out.

“Your team can’t care about you as little as you think then,” she pointed out. “They must think you deserve a second chance.”

“Or they just want to win and know I can help ‘em out.”

“Well, whatever the reason they let you back in, I’m sure you can win them over and prove to them that you’re trying to change,” she assured him. “And once my uncle thinks we’re together, he won’t say a bad word about you. He loves me too much to disrespect my boyfriend - or husband - so maybe he’ll put in a good word for you with the rest of the City fans too.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced, but he appreciated her support enough to accept her words of comfort without any arguments and a silence fell between them as Lia finished her now cold tea before a yawn slipped from her lips. She glanced at her phone and saw that it wasn’t quite nine o’clock, but the wild night before and lingering hangover had her already itching for bed.

“So,” she started, catching Jamie’s attention again. “Can you show me where the guest room is?”

She watched as his face went from confused to understanding until it settled on something a little sheepish.

“I can, yeah,” he nodded. “But there’s not much in there. Just some spare gym equipment.”

“That’s okay. As long as there’s a bed, that’s all I need.”

“There’s just some spare gym stuff,” Jamie repeated. “That’s all there is, there’s no bed.”

Flooded with a flash of panic, Lia stared at Jamie for a moment as she tried to puzzle out if he was joking.

“You can’t be serious,” she groaned as the look on his face made it clear that he was. “Where does your mum sleep when she visits you?”

“She hasn’t been since I moved here,” he shrugged. “Figured I’d buy one if anyone ever did visit, but I haven’t got around to it yet and it hasn’t been an issue.”

Her initial anxious reaction quickly shifted into one of annoyance as she couldn’t believe that he’d asked her to move in without realizing that he had nowhere for her to actually sleep, but her exhaustion left her quickly resigning herself to her fate.

“I guess I’ll just take the couch then.”

“No, I can’t have you doing that,” Jamie insisted, looking at her like she’d suggested something truly farfetched. “We can just share my bed.”

The panic came back as she felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of spending the night curled up in bed beside him and the smirk that slid onto Jamie’s face as he noticed the flush of colour only added to her embarrassment.

“Won’t that be weird?”

“Why would it be?” He countered. “We did last night, didn’t we? I don’t want you sleeping on the couch and if I do then I’ll be done in for training tomorrow.”

It was a valid point and it only took a minute of mulling it over for Lia to realize that sharing a bed wasn’t really that outrageous. She’d shared a bed with Katie several times over the years in a completely platonic way so there was no reason why she couldn’t do the same with Jamie and since they had no idea how long their little arrangement was going to last, it didn’t make sense for one of them to suffer indefinitely by sleeping on the couch - even though she was sure that Jamie’s couch was top of the line and probably more comfortable than her own bed had been.

“Okay,” she nodded in agreement after her moment of thought. “You’re right, it makes the most sense. Do you mind if I go to bed now? I’m pretty tired and I have work in the morning.”

“Course I don’t mind,” Jamie assured her. “I’ll help you with your suitcase.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

Her protests fell on deaf ears as Jamie rose from the table and headed down the hall to where she’d left her things by the front door. She tried again to stop him and was ignored once again, but she had to admit that the way his muscles strained under his shirt as he carried her heavy suitcase up the stairs had her wondering if she’d really be able to resist the temptation that came with sharing a bed with such a handsome and fit man.

-

chapter three

[storiesofsvu]

No Strings Ch 17

Warnings: Language probably?

**

Friday night had rolled around yet again, you were about to clock out, knocking on Benson’s door jam as you entered, she was stuck on her phone, so you didn’t want to interrupt, waiting for her to hang up and address you before you spoke.

“Everything okay Sarge?” 

“Lucy’s come down with the flu.” She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair.

“You have dinner with Raf tonight right?” You questioned, moving into the office, “Y’know, if you need someone to watch Noah I’m free.” 

“Are you sure?” Her eyes looked up to you, you’d hung out in groups and with Noah multiple times, the boy loved you, she just didn’t expect it.

“Of course! I mean, I don’t have plans tonight, you are stealing my boyfriend and all” You laughed softly, “Just make sure Raf brings me dessert when he picks me up.” 

“That would be *amazing* Y/N.”

***

You and Noah spent the evening having a blast, you made sure his homework was done, then you ordered pizza, playing multiple games on the Wii, joking around and having a good old time. Olivia and Rafael showed up while Noah was kicking your ass at a round of Mario Kart, you didn’t even try to lose as he crossed the finish line, you groaned over enthusiastically, tossing down the remote. 

“Well kid, you really did kick my butt tonight.” You ruffled his hair, “But I feel like you should probably go brush your teeth bub.” Noah leaned into you, giving you a quick hug and saying goodnight before he ran off into the apartment.

Olivia thanked you for sitting, which you tossed off, friends help friends, you grabbed your coat, throwing it on as you took Rafael’s hand, walking back to your apartment.

**

As the two of you retreated into your apartment, Rafael was hesitant, and you noticed that something was off as you tossed your coat over the back of the couch.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet. Got anything to say?”

“You’re really good with Noah…” You smiled gently. Rafael took a deep sigh, he loved you more than he could even imagine, and you’d never discussed something that could be a complete deal breaker, “Do…do you want kids?” 

“I’m leaning towards no.” You sighed, “It’s always been kinda up in the air, whoever I end up with. I’m okay with  never having kids, the idea honestly kinda disturbs me, the whole, something growing inside of you and then having to push it out of you?! No thank you! When I was younger I was all about adoption, I figured why bring more people into this world when there’s so many people that need healthy homes. But…once I got into this job….it just doesn’t seem right, how can I walk out the door every single day not knowing if I’m gonna come back to who I left or not. I would HATE leaving a family behind it something happened on the force.”  Your voice was incredibly soft as you trailed off,

Rafael paused, taking in everything you had said, the last fact hit hard, but it was completely true, not to mention he was terrified of being the same man his father was. You looked up at him expectantly, 

“Hermosa,” He began, and then stuttered,

“Raf,” You smiled gently, “Do you want kids?” He sighed heavily, dropping his head, knowing how much time work took up.

“Honestly…no…”He glanced up at you, expected your face to fall, you simply smiled at him, reassuring him. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? My father, he wasn’t exactly positive, and with sex crimes, we see so much damage every day, I just don’t know if I could ever bring a child into that world.” He paused slightly, “And like you said, babies…something about them is just too much.” 

“So we agree?” You lips curled into a smile, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Yes, we are in agreement detective.” He kissed you back gently, pulling your body against him.

[hellmouth-manor]

Pulled By The Strings || Kamiya || Trial 3.3 || Re: Yukiko.

When asking Cass for help, it was obvious that Kamiya truly didn’t mean it as an accusation… After all? She was someone who he viewed as family, someone who he had truly thought of incredibly highly, someone who he had said time and time again was like family to him. She had always been someone who supported him, even in the darkest of times she really did stand out as someone who he could depend on… It was rare for Kamiya to make genuine bonds as she managed to do for him, sure, a lot of the time he was sociable, tried to get the good vibes going in a crowd… But when it came to friendships he always was hesitant about the close ones.

…After all, in this case Cass was someone he had called the sister he wished he had on many occasions to himself.

Yet this wasn’t Cass who showed her colors this time, listening to her words quietly and watching the reactions of everyone around him, it all was starting to blend together in a cacophony of noises, some were angry, others were shocked, some were absolutely mortified about the situation and some were even balling…

As for where Kamiya was in it all? It was hard to say, was he hurt? Absofuckinglutely he was! There was a pain in his chest that he hadn’t felt much in the past, the only other time being when Nori had done her little trick with Olwin in the past. A pain that he was trying to ignore once again and focus on the times he had talked to her, to Cass, not to Yukiko.

Was he scared? Sure, there was a part of him that feared everything going on there, two of the three times someone who killed another mentioned his name, how people thought he was going to die he would sink even further… It just hurt at this point, hearing all of that… It wasn’t like he disagreed with the thought he wasn’t going to survive, but the constant reminders… It really did seem to take a bit of a hit on him as he sunk a little lower in his podium.

And lastly, did he still trust Yukiko…? Of course not, but Cass was someone he trusted, the things that were said before still lingering in the back of his mind. Listening to the woman in front of him speak, his normal smile seemed to fade, and he let out a sigh, closing his eyes in response as he decided to ask a favor, not to anyone in particular, but…

“...Can… Can you guys cover the votes this time…? I’d feel bad sendin’ a friend up there t’ die. I don’t wanna do that t’ Cass.” Not so much Yukiko, but that hope that Cass was still in there somewhere was what he was focused on. 

Even now he knew that sounded stupid, in Nori’s case he saw the fear in her eyes when confronted about the problem, however, he didn’t see that in Yukiko’s eyes, at least, not at first glance… Maybe there was a part in there he could find in time, but he knew that she was someone who he was going to talk to later, he wasn’t going to be completely naïve though, not this time at least, he had at least learned he can’t trust everyone, especially not the people who seemed like they had no flaws.

After all, the tone of her voice, and everything she was saying reminded him of his actual sister far too much, someone who he never thought he’d have to encounter again in his life.

Turning his gaze back to Cass, or, Yukiko in this case, his look was pained, as if he had just watched a friend die in front of him, which, in a twisted turnabout way, was exactly what was happening.

“I wanna talk t’ ya after all of this an’ get t’ the bottom of what all ya lied ‘bout… Ain’t no reason t’ keep up the act completely after all’ve this, right? But I’ll be real with ya… This all hurts, it hurts a-fuckin’ lot… But everythin’ ya said t’ me couldn’t all be a lie, right? There’s gotta be a part’a it that was actually Cass speakin’ t’ me, I’d like t’ hold ont’a that much hope with this all. I’m probably bein’ stupid as shit, an’ yer probably gonna make that damn clear that I am but… I do think Cass is in there, somewhere.”

A sigh followed as he placed his hands in his pockets, turning his gaze away from the group as he did so. He wasn’t going to mask it anymore, the pain in his voice as it sounded like he was going to start crying, giving one final goodbye to his dear friend, a friend who he truly wished to meet again in the future.

“...Until then, I’ll miss ya, Cass.”

[littlemisspascal]

Little Red’s Shadow Part 2

Pairing: Werewolf Pero Tovar x Female!Reader

Word Count: 5500+

Summary: Conclusion and Follow up of Part 1

Warnings: no beta all mistakes are my own, language, werewolf/shapeshifter AU with little red riding hood elements, creepy handsy drunk guy, pining, angst, drama, confessions, reader’s father makes a cameo

Author Note: I am so so unbelievably blown away by the incredible support Part 1 of this fic received. Never ever did I anticipate the encouragement and fanart and kindness sent my way. You are all so amazing and sweet and I love each of you so much it’s ridiculous. Just like the first part, this conclusion is just as self-indulgent and fingers crossed someone out there likes this as much as I do 💗💗💗

“The wolves are never meant to be anything other than defending. They’re not meant to be aggressors.” -- Joe Carnahan

The tavern is crowded tonight.

That’s the first thing you notice when you enter, nervously picking at the hem of your blouse while looking around the dimly lit room for Pero. There are a couple of booths lining the back walls and some tables arranged in the center close to the bar. Overhead the ceiling is high with lightbulbs hanging from strings attached to wooden beams. 

Some of your fellow villagers offer words of greeting when you step past them on your way towards the bar, and you politely smile back at them, trying not to let your disappointment show that none of them are the one you truly want to see. 

William approaches you after you’ve ordered a drink, sliding onto the stool next to yours with a bright enough smile you suspect he’s had more than a few pints already this evening. 

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that your quarrel with Pero is over,” he says while motioning at the bartender for another drink. “His doom and gloom wasn’t good for business.”

You frown, brow creasing with worry. “You didn’t consider firing him, did you?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “He’s a grump, but when he’s focused he works well. Especially after he gets back from his lunch break.”

A snort of laughter escapes you, recalling several times you’d visited the blacksmith shop early in the morning before dawn and caught Pero stuffing his face with breakfast. He ate like he had no clue where his next meal was coming from, ravenously tearing apart strips of bacon with his teeth with the same ferocity as a wild animal. 

“He is quite a fan of food.”

“Actually, he usually takes off into the woods,” William corrects you, accepting his drink from the bartender. He gulps down a few mouthfuls of beer, then licks the foam from his upper lip before adding, “I guess the fresh air clears his head. Do you ever see him out on the trails?”

Rather than Pero, Shadow comes to mind instead, followed by a sharp pain in your chest when you think about his absence, how he hadn’t reappeared to walk you home. It isn’t fair how you’ve fixed one relationship in your life only for another one to fall to pieces. Why did there have to be a consequence for your moment of happiness?

“No,” you answer softly, looking down at your drink with the foolish desire that the amber liquid could reveal all the answers to your problems. “I haven’t seen him.”

William doesn’t linger long after that, heading for the door with a cheeky wink after wishing you good luck on your date. You try to feel bolstered by his belief that the date is, in fact, happening still, but every minute that ticks by without Pero threatens to crumble your confidence into dust.

You scrub a hand over your face, wondering if maybe you pushed too hard for a date. But the way he’d pressed a kiss to your palm doesn’t suggest he’d felt cornered. No, he’d definitely been interested then. You’re certain of that.

The question is, did something change his mind in the hours between then and now? And if so, what was that something? Do you even have a chance to change it back? 

“You’ll give yourself gray hairs worrying about the unknown,” your mother used to warn you before she became sick, teasingly pulling on your braid. “I promise the puzzle pieces life hands you will all make sense if you’re patient.”

Patience has never been your strong suit which leads you to order a second drink, figuring alcohol is a good enough distraction from your worry for the time being. Your future self might hate you in the morning, but your present self is on her way to becoming pleasantly buzzed.

You nearly choke on your mouthful when a hand grazes your hip, fingers sneaking beneath your blouse to touch skin. Turning, you find yourself uncomfortably close to a stranger, clearly drunk and uncaring of personal boundaries. His acrid-smelling breath invades your nostrils and makes your stomach churn nauseously. You mentally curse your bad luck, realizing that yes, things can actually get worse.

“Aren’t you a pretty girl,” the stranger says. His speech is slurred, but the lust in his eyes shines bright beneath the hanging lightbulbs. “Care for some company?”

You lean away from him, teetering on the edge of the stool. “Not yours,” you snap, discomfort rising at an alarming rate.

He smirks, intrigued rather than offended. “I bet I could persuade you.”

Your upper lip curls with disgust, but before you have the chance to retort, a wall of warmth plasters itself against your backside with a threatening growl that vibrates through your chest, rattling your ribcage with its intensity. 

“Back off, cabrón.” Your heart stutters when you recognize Pero’s gravelly baritone instantly. He sounds on the verge of turning feral, his voice laced with fury. “Now.”

The stranger, either emboldened by the amount of alcohol in his system or just plain fucking stupid, rolls his eyes at Pero. “Fine, whatever. Just get the bitch a muzzle for that mouth.”

Pero moves faster than your eyes can track, slamming the stranger’s head so hard against the counter of the bar it echoes throughout the whole room. Shock ripples across the crowd, all eyes zeroing in on Pero. And you don’t blame them. 

He looks downright murderous with his lips twisted into a cruel scowl, eyes blazing. 

“Pero,” you begin, nervously glancing between the crowd and him. “Stop. It’s fine. I’m fine. Trust me, he’s not worth it. Just let him go. Please.”

Pero’s eyes flick towards you, reflecting the light strangely, looking more gold than their usual dark brown coloring, and for a split second you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he leans down and mutters something in the man’s ear too low for you to detect. The stranger’s face drains of color, terror written in every line of his expression, and when Pero finally releases him he takes off on shaky legs towards the door with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

Realizing the drama is over, the crowd gradually resumes their conversations once more, filling the silence with chatter and the clinking of glasses. You move closer to Pero who has his head ducked, avoiding eye contact and glaring holes into the floor, hands flexing at his sides.

You reach for one of his hands slowly, giving him the time to reject your touch, but his fingers clutch onto yours like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, just loud enough for your ears alone to hear. “For being late. For my temper. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” you say, the guilt in his voice making your chest hurt. You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Pero looks up at you, lips stretching into a slow, pleased smile. You fight the urge to press a kiss against the dimple on his cheek, instead returning the grin with a soft one of your own.

“Can we take a walk, little red?”

You nod, butterflies whirling in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

Stars peer down from the night sky while hanging lanterns and street lamps provide more than enough light to illuminate your path as you and Pero stroll through the village. He has yet to let go of your hand, warmth buzzing through your whole body from the point of contact. 

“Most people who stop by the depot to trade are gone by the next day,” you say, the thought occurring as you pass by the building. “But not you.”

“I didn’t plan to stay,” Pero admits, hearing the unspoken question. He scratches at his scruffy cheek with his free hand as he searches for the right words. “I happened to find something that made me change my mind.”

Although your curiosity immediately piques with interest, you don’t ask what that something is, respecting his desire to keep it vague. “I forgot to say,” you murmur, “but I like your haircut. It’s much better than that shaggy, mountain man look you had when we first met.”

He smirks. “Is that so? You know, you were the first person I’d seen in months.” His expression turns thoughtful, as if he’s begun unfolding the memory in his mind like an old photograph. “It was hard for me, remembering how to use words and talk to humans.”

Specifically referencing humans sticks out in your mind as oddly phrased, but then again, what do you know about wandering the wilderness completely alone for months? Maybe if you were in his shoes, you’d also have forgotten how to socialize.

You bite your lip, trying to think of something lighthearted to say, but instead what comes tumbling out of your mouth is, “Did you ever encounter any wolves?” Seeing his startled expression, you rush to add, “It’s just...The way you looked at my field guide, you seemed like you hated them.”

Pero hums, shoulders losing some of their tension. “I crossed paths with one once,” he confirms, calm and detached. He stops walking, pulling gently on your hand to turn you towards him, and he gestures towards his scar. “It gave me this. I’m fortunate it did not rob me of my sight.”

Unthinkingly, you brush your fingertips beneath his eye along his cheekbone where the scar ends. His skin is surprisingly warm beneath your touch, and he makes your breath catch in your lungs by tilting his head, pressing his cheek firmer against your hand, almost nuzzling it.

Little by little you’re starting to uncover a soft, gentle soul beneath his hard-bitten exterior. And in that exact moment you think, I wouldn’t mind falling in love with you.

“I tried to hate wolves for what was done to me,” Pero confesses quietly when you start walking again, heading towards your home, “but my mamá told me as a child that all things happen for a reason, good and bad. There are no accidents.”

“My mother told me to never believe in coincidences.”

His lips curl at the corners, glancing at you with a fond look that nearly has you tripping over your feet. “We were raised by smart women.”

When you reach your front door, you lean your back against it, reluctant to say goodnight to him. You feel something new and special has formed between the two of you, something precious to protect and cherish for years to come. 

Pero stands close, eyes drifting over your face, as if trying to memorize every detail. His thumb brushes smoothly over your knuckles, a soothing motion sparking warmth up your arms. When his gaze dips towards your mouth, you subconsciously start to lean in, magnetized by his presence.

“Little red,” he murmurs, a note of audible nervousness in his voice that makes you pause. “There’s something you need to know about me. Something important.”

“Okay.” You draw in a shaky breath, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. “What is it, Pero?”

Pero doesn’t answer immediately, watching you with eyes deep and soulful, conveying a silent message you cannot read. You wish you could understand, that you could spare him the discomfort he so obviously feels, but you don’t. And so you say nothing. Silence fills the space, threatening to drown you both. 

“Tomorrow,” Pero says finally, and the word is firm, coated in steel. “Tomorrow I’ll come see you at the depot and we’ll talk then.”

You tilt your head, stomach twisting with nervousness. “Alright,” you say slowly, reluctant to pressure him. “If...If that’s what you want.”

He makes a face at that, like it’s the last thing in the world he wants but he’s not going to admit it. Instead, he presses a kiss to your hand, the roughness of his stubble tickling your skin, and says, “Buenas noches, little red.”

"A howl is as infectious to a wolf as a yawn is to a human."— Kevin Ansbro

Storms aren’t a common occurrence during the spring season, but when they do occur it’s as if the skies open up like a damn bursting and flood the village without remorse. 

You’re warm and dry within the depot, watching the lightning flash angrily across the sky through the window. You hope the storm isn’t a bad omen for your conversation with Pero, your fingers twitching restlessly as you wonder what he plans to tell you. Whatever it is, he’d sounded serious when referencing it. Like it’s something that could permanently alter your perception of him. 

In for a penny, in for a pound, you think, nodding to yourself. 

The incessant howling of the wind outside grates on your ears, but it is not loud enough to muffle conversation between a pair of hunters walking around the depot seeking new equipment to replace their drenched ones.

You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but in your defense, they’re not attempting to whisper and the small size of the room makes it virtually impossible to ignore their voices. 

“Better stock up on silver. Full moon’s coming up,” the older of the two warns his companion. He goes by the title Sir Ballard, claiming he used to be a prodigious teacher in his younger years before turning to a life full of hunting and adventuring. Foreign languages are his favorite subject to discuss, but he’s also an expert on ancient myths and legends. You think his stories of aliens and mysterious beasts are a little too far-fetched to be believable, but they’re entertaining nevertheless.

“What’s so special about full moons?” the other hunter asks.

“Nothing if you’re a human,” Ballard answers, adopting his wise professor voice, “but if you’ve got wolf blood in you, the sight of the moon makes you a savage and mindless creature. If you ever come across one, you better hope you’ve got silver with you and good aim because if their bite doesn’t kill you, it’ll turn you. That’s the curse of a werewolf.”

“How do you tell a regular wolf apart from a werewolf?”

“You can’t. That’s why I kill every wolf I see.” Ballard chuckles, causing a shudder to crawl down your spine, a pit forming in your stomach. “Hell, I killed one last night at my camp. Tried to steal food from me and I stabbed it with my knife.”

Your lungs seize up, feeling as if you’ve been kicked in the ribs. No thoughts float in your head beyond white noise and Shadow’s name on repeat.

“Sir Ballard,” you say, internally cringing at the audible tremble but you’re incapable of fixing it. “Where exactly did you kill the wolf?”

He raises an eyebrow, expression turning concerned, probably wondering why you look seconds away from keeling over, but eventually he admits, “In these surrounding woods. I would have brought its pelt to trade, but the damage from my blade was too severe. I’ve never seen so much blood before.”

The revolting image of Shadow’s perforated corpse with scarlet streams pouring from his wounds is more than enough to send you spiraling into a panic attack. Your clothes suddenly feel too tight, your hands shaking at your sides, and the walls are closing in around you. Inching closer and closer, stealing your oxygen without remorse.

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t realize you’ve moved until fat, icy droplets of rain smack against your skin, drenching you from head to toe, and shocks your system back online. 

You need to find Shadow. Need to see him alive and breathing one more time at least. You’ll never forgive yourself if the last interaction you ever had with him was a heartbreaking rejection.

Blinking away the rainwater dripping from your eyelashes, you set your sight upon the forest and take off sprinting. You probably look like a madwoman, running through the storm, soaked to the bone, but all that matters is your wolf.

Lightning streaks across the sky followed by a boom of thunder that shakes the ground as you enter the forest. The trail is a river of grit and mud beneath your feet and the wind assaults the trees relentlessly, turning the scenery you knew and loved into an unrecognizable nightmare. 

You frantically search for any trace of Shadow’s presence, ignoring the chattering of your teeth and the harsh sting of raindrops pelting against your skin. Your hair is absolutely soaked and you’ve never felt so stupidly helpless in your life. Hell, you’re not even sure the direction you’re heading in is even the right one leading to the grassy clearing.

“Shadow,” you call out, raising your voice to be heard over the storm. “Shadow!”

But your wolf does not appear.

You refuse to give up, screaming his name until your vocal chords are scratchy and hoarse. Panic pulses through your veins and every breath of air gets harder and harder to inhale, black spots appearing in the corners of your vision. 

Another deafening burst of thunder sends you careening sideways, shoulder striking against a tree trunk. Its bark digs painfully into your flesh, eliciting a whimper from your sore throat as pain radiates through your collarbone and backside. 

You sink to the ground, curling into a shivering ball at the tree’s base before looking to the dark sky miserably. The overhead branches look eerily similar to claws, reminding you of your childhood fear of the woods. You had been convinced monsters lived in them. Giant, scary creatures with red eyes and sharp fangs who would steal you away if you got too close.

You remember being seven years old and staring anxiously at the tall trees as your mother hung laundry to dry upon a clothesline.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” your mother said, voice gentle and comforting, laying a hand upon your head. “If you ever see a monster, all you have to do is howl.”

You frowned up at her. “Howl?”

“Monsters are afraid of wolves, see, and a wolf can never resist answering a howl.”

An idea sparks, breaching through the swarm of anxious thoughts buzzing like wasps in your mind. I trust you, Mom, you think before tipping your head back against the tree and letting out a howl.

The raspy, prolonged wail that tears itself out of your throat doesn’t match a single note of a wolf’s beautiful song, but you pray Shadow hears it and knows it’s your voice.

You strain your ears to hear his potential answer over the falling rain. You feel breathless and jittery as you wait, but you can’t tell if it’s your body gradually succumbing to hypothermia or if it’s your distressed nerves worsening the longer there is no returning howl.

Your head lolls against the tree trunk, aching muscles protesting against the heavy weight of your skull. The storm has warped your senses, making time seem to stretch on and on, dizzying your brain. You have no idea how long you’ve been out here in the woods, if it’s been mere minutes or over an hour. Maybe even two.

You drift in and out of consciousness, unable to summon the strength to stand despite knowing how vulnerable you are sitting here. You’ve lost feeling in your limbs, the blood frozen stiff, and each breath feels like you’re inhaling splinters.

Then, a low, guttural howl weaves through the trees, bringing the faintest of smiles to your blue lips. You don’t know how you know, if it’s instinct or some strange side effect of the bond you’ve developed with your wolf, but you’re certain with every fiber of your being it’s Shadow calling out to you. 

I’m coming, he seems to say. Hold on.

And you wish you could answer. That you could keep your eyes open long enough to greet him. But the all-encompassing relief swimming through your veins makes it hard to focus and your eyelids are so heavy that it’s an impossible feat.

In the silence that follows as you drift off into blissful sleep, you could have sworn you heard a voice shouting your name. Felt warm hands tenderly press against your face.

“I’m here, little red. I’m here,” the voice said from somewhere beyond the darkness. “I’ll always come when you call.”

“On the ragged edge of the world I’ll roam, and the home of the wolf shall be my home” -- Robert Service

You wake up with a groan, opening your eyes to see a familiar ceiling with wooden beams overhead. The rest of your bedroom swims into focus, the moon casting just enough light through your windows for you to see.  

Rubbing at your eyes, you notice your bed is covered with seemingly every blanket you and your father own. You stare at them, searching your foggy memory for an explanation—and then everything hits you at once. Sir Ballard killing a wolf, the run through the storm, collapsing in the woods.

Shadow’s howl.

Pushing the covers aside, you try to stand only to nearly fall on the floor instead, your legs forgetting their purpose of supporting you. You hiss a quiet curse and grab ahold of your nightstand to support yourself, accidentally knocking over a small object. 

You grab it and hold it up to the moonlight for closer inspection, realizing it’s a metallic figurine of a wolf. Your brow creases as you run the pads of your fingers over the rough edges of the wolf’s fur, noticing the way its head is thrown back, forever howling a silent song. 

How strange and remarkable, you think, deciding to take the figurine with you as you head downstairs to seek answers from your father. 

You find him in the kitchen in the middle of preparing dinner. His shoulders sag with relief when he sees you, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Thank God,” he murmurs. “You scared the hell out of me, kiddo.”

You hug him back just as tightly, a pang of guilt striking you in the chest. “Sorry,” you say.

“What were you thinking?” he asks, giving you a once-over like he can figure out the answer from looking at you. “If it wasn’t for Pero, I—”

“Pero?” you interrupt, heart jumping in your chest. 

“He’s who found you,” your father says. “He forgot one of his hunting traps in the woods and went to retrieve it. Instead he found you, unconscious and absolutely drenched. He brought you home and told me to make sure you got warm. If not for him, you...” He shakes his head with a grimace. “I don’t want to even think about the outcome.”

Something about Pero’s explanation doesn’t ring true to you. He’s not the forgetful type, for starters. And ever since he started working at the forge you haven’t heard him mention hunting except when he bragged to William about once taking down a bear. 

You recall William telling you at the tavern Pero often ventured into the woods during his lunch breaks. Maybe he had started hunting again during the weeks you’d spent avoiding him. But it’s strange you hadn’t encountered him even once along the trails. Just Shadow.

Just Shadow who showed up in your life the same time Pero moved into the village. Just Shadow who understood every word you said and had a raspy laugh like Pero’s when he teased you. Just Shadow who howled shortly before Pero found you in the rain.

Sir Ballard’s voice echoes in the back of your mind. “If their bite doesn’t kill you, it’ll turn you. That’s the curse of a werewolf.”

If a bite could turn someone…

“I crossed paths with one once. It gave me this.”

“I tried to hate wolves for what was done to me.”

“I have become something no one—not even my own mamá—could ever love.”

“There’s something you need to know about me. Something important.”

“Can’t a man be two things at once?”

…could a scar have the same effect?

You hold up the wolf figurine, the gears in your head turning, reconsidering every memory of Pero. “Did Pero leave this behind?”

Your father nods. “As a gift for you, yes. Is there...something going on between you two?”

Instead of answering, you slip your cloak over your pajamas and stick your feet into your boots, haphazardly tying the laces with trembling fingers. God, you’re a stupid idiot. Shadow is the furthest thing from a normal wolf. All his mannerisms and his fucking ability to understand human speech.

You’re a stupid, stupid girl so blinded by the desire to have a friend you failed to see the waving red flags. 

Annoyance flares, burning hotly down your spine, and you stomp past your father towards the door as he asks, “Where do you think you’re going at this hour?”

“I’ve got to talk to Pero,” you tell him, ignoring his worried protests about your health. “It can’t wait until morning. It’s important.”

The village is relatively quiet once the sun goes down with most people tucked away within their homes or enjoying a drink at the tavern. It should be calming, but instead the silence only adds fuel to your agitation, your skin bristling all the way to the blacksmith shop.

There’s a light on inside the forge indicating the presence of life. It might be William working late on an order, but deep down there’s a sense of certainty too intense and foreboding to ignore. The same certainty you’d felt that very first day your wolf had spied on you in the woods.

Pero’s waiting for you. 

You stand in front of the door to the forge, knowing the second you confront him there’s no going back to how things were before. Whether he confirms your suspicions or calls your werewolf theory crazy, this conversation will have repercussions. You draw your shoulders back and shove your anxiety into a box to be dealt with later in the privacy of your room before pushing open the door, determined to get the answers you came for.

Pero stands at the sink in the far corner of the room with his back facing you, cleaning the rust off some of the forge’s tools with vinegar and water. He’s dressed in a plain, black henley with the sleeves rolled up his forearms—a sight that would normally distract you and send your heart into overdrive. 

You shift in place, suddenly hesitant to draw closer despite determination still burning away inside your chest, demanding you stop wasting time and do something.

Pero beats you to the punch, glancing over his shoulder at you. “You should be resting, little red.”

His calmness is the last straw of your self-control.

“Shadow.”

Brown eyes flash amber-gold.

And your whole world tilts on its axis.

“You’re him,” you whisper, words cutting your tongue like thorns. 

Pero is silent, but you see the tenseness in his shoulders as he turns around, the wariness in his gaze like you’re the wild animal in the room to be cautious of. You might have laughed if your chest didn’t hurt so much. 

“Yes,” he says with an awkward shrug of his shoulders. “I’m your wolf.”

“Oh my God, werewolves are real.” You turn away, pressing your palms against your eyes. Embarrassment starts to bloom as you think of everything you’d told Shadow, all your secrets and dreams. Your crush on Pero. Oh God...

Your breath hitches. “That day in the woods before you came to the depot. You were watching me.” You whirl around, glaring at him through watery eyes. “Did you plan all this from the start? Am I just a worthless toy for you to play with until you get bored and find another girl to trick?”

“Stop it,” Pero snarls, crossing the room so fast you stumble backwards against the door. “You’re not a toy. You’re not worthless. You have become the center of my world.”

He looms over you, so close that it should be scary or intimidating. But his nearness only serves to soothe the raging fire inside of you, a security blanket you want to wrap around yourself. 

You bite your lip, the pinch of pain grounding you back in the present moment. “What do you mean?” 

“There are many myths about werewolves. Some are true, most are not. A bite or a wound inflicted by a werewolf will transform a person—I learned that last fall,” Pero says, gesturing towards his scar with a grimace. “But losing control of our shift doesn’t occur during full moons. It happens when we meet our mate.”

You’re struck silent, blood roaring in your ears and heart throbbing against your ribcage, thinking you might fall over. Mate. As in one half of a matched pair. As in The One all the main protagonists in fairy tales dream of finding.

As in...a dead rabbit being dropped at your feet.

“When I caught your scent, my wolf went crazy. I tried to move on, to ignore you, but once you saved me from that damn trap...I knew leaving would be impossible.” You remember Pero limping when he walked around the forge. Yet another glaring sign right in front of your face you’d missed.

“That first month, I didn’t want you to find out what I am. I thought the wolf would be satisfied just seeing you everyday when you came by the forge. And he was for a while…”

“What changed?”

“That day we were alone in the forge, you said I seemed like a man who concealed many secrets. For a second I let myself think about telling you, and I lost control. My wolf is, well, possessive of you. He recognizes you as his mate and he doesn’t care about subtlety. He wasn’t laughing at you, little red. He was laughing because he believed he beat me in claiming you.”

Your eyes narrow. “First of all, I’m not a trophy or a piece of meat. I’m a human being with my own autonomy.” Although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the sound of being loved by someone so completely they knew you mind, body, and soul. Someone who would put you first and let the rest of the world burn to ash. Someone who was both light and dark with an inner monster who was tame beneath your touch.

You press an accusatory finger into his chest, finding petty satisfaction in watching him flinch. “Secondly, do you know what I’m hearing an awful lot of? The wolf wants me. Not you. Quit giving me mixed signals, Pero. I need to know how you feel about me.” You pause, insecurity creeping into your voice. “Do you feel anything about me? Or just the wolf?”

Pero’s hands grab your wrists, not tight enough to hurt but enough to pull you forward so your body is flush against his. His eyes have no trace of gold in them—entirely brown and so breathtakingly human.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never want anyone more than I want you, little red.”

“Then why did you try to end things?” you ask, desperate to understand. “Why didn’t you reveal yourself when you brought me the rabbit? When I told you I loved you.”

“The only reason I tried to end things with you before they began was because I didn’t believe there was anyone who could love me as a wolf. But after you confessed,” he ducks his head, expression painfully vulnerable, “I knew I had to try harder as a man to earn your heart. I was going to tell you the truth about everything, I swear, but the storm...”

“What a foolish big bad wolf you are,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from his, even when your noses brush. “You never had to earn my heart, Pero. Your appearance--wolf, man, any shape in-between--doesn’t matter. It was always going to be yours.”

Pero looks at you like you’ve just given him the moon and all the stars. He starts to lean in, only for you to stop him for a second time by holding your finger up against his lips. He blinks at you, a mixture of confusion and amusement shining in his eyes.

“There’s a lot we have to talk about still. About mates, and you being a werewolf, and our future. But…” You lower your hand to dig the wolf figurine out of the pocket of your cloak and hold it up for him to see. “This is me saying yes to figuring it all out together.”

He presses his forehead against yours, a pleased growl vibrating through his chest. “Would you say it, please? Say you’re mine.”

You grin and capture his mouth with yours, murmuring the words against his lips, “You’re mine.”

“Wolves and women wed for life.” ― George R.R. Martin

Stories start to circulate over the years about a quaint little village surrounded by a pine forest. What’s so special about it? A wolf calls the forest home, one with fur a unique shade of brown that looks red in the sunlight. And always by her side is her mate, a massive beast who’s as doting as he is protective. 

Hunters know better than to mess with the pair after Sir Ballard meets his fatal end trying to prove mythical monsters exist. 

“Look out for Little Red,” they start to warn one another. “Wherever she goes, her Shadow’s never far behind.”

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[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As the summer comes to a close, Spencer and Y/N start feeling a shift in their relationship. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, thigh riding, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, one line of daddy kink,  Word Count: 4.3k exactly, love how that turned out lol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for sticking with me through this long wait, I feel so bad for having to keep putting it off. But I’m very proud of where this ended up, and I’m so glad you’ve all been so excited about it! I had so much fun writing this story, so again, thank you very much for reading and indulging me in this weird fantasy lolol ❤ Love you guys! And, as always, thank you to the lovely Em ( @boldlyvoid ) for being my beta for this series! Your feedback and support has been a big help from the start, ILY

———

AUGUST 12th

"I don't wanna hear a single word, understand?"

Not like I have a choice; As soon as the harsh whisper leaves Spencer's mouth, his hand is covering my own and my back is being pressed up against the wall of the storage closet.

But that's all he does. I wait for him to make a move, but instead he insists on being a tease.

"What? You've been trying to get my attention all night, and now that you have it, you're not gonna do anything with it?"

"I want you to do it for me," I mumble into his hand.

He shoves me harder into the wall and slots his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart and making me sigh.

"You wanted it so bad... So take it..."

Watching the amusement dance through his features as I grind down on his leg and whine into his mouth only excites me more, right next to the knowledge that downstairs the house is congested with people visiting to celebrate my mom's new promotion at work.

Needless to say, it doesn't take me very long to start feeling my stomach tense. My hips are wild as they roll over his leg, whines spewing from my mouth and into his hand. I look up into his eyes, doing my best to show him how much I could never grow tired of this, and he returns the favor by lifting his leg higher and giving me more friction.

In no time at all, I'm shuddering against him, feeling his hand press harder into my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whines that I can't help but expel.

"Nice and quick... Good girl..." Spencer muses, slowly peeling himself away from me. "You're really looking forward to being spoiled later, aren't you..."

The grin that spreads over my face is unwavering. "Definitely. Knowing Mom, she'll be passed out cold in like an hour."

I know I'm the one who brought her up, but it still stings a little when Spencer smiles fondly. "Yeah, she's a lightweight alright... You sure you can handle all this time without me until then?"

Despite the butterflies I get when he says it, mischievous and downright delectable, his hands reach out to grab my waist and pull me closer to him, I roll my eyes. "You underestimate me."

He studies my face for a moment, a pretty smile flashing before me in the dim light before he kisses my cheek. "Sure."

And when he leaves, I wait.

Minutes later, my skin still burns from his touch.

———

The moment my eyes open the next morning, it all comes back in flashes.

His lips are on my skin, travelling lower and lower...

His hands trail all over my body, featherlight in a way that leaves me with goosebumps.

His tongue starts slow, taking its time to taste me and savor every precious second.

His voice is like the sweetest prayer, whispering praises that leave my head dizzy and my heart pounding.

His lips languidly open and close around the most sensitive parts of my body, in tandem with that sweet, magnificent tongue as each action pulls sighs from the very depths of my soul.

His hands reach up and tangle with mine as he makes me come on his tongue, over and over again until I'm practically numb and the lull of sleep drags me under.

His hands now ghost over my bare skin, along my sides and down to my waist. I hum happily and push back against him when I feel it.

He's hard.

"How long before you think she wakes up?" he whispers in my ear.

"Not long... Maybe we... shouldn't risk i—"

The words fall off a cliff, never to be seen again when he slowly enters me, gripping my leg and forcing it over his own. "I'll be quick."

I can tell, though, that he doesn't want to be. It's present in the way he enters me, over and over with motions that feel rather stunted and definitely too rushed.

"Baby, no," I whine, reaching behind me to hold his hips still with one hand. "Fuck me slow... Don't rush..."

"But... Your mom..."

"Please..."

Spencer sighs, though not from exasperation. No, his breath is long and teeming with relief, hands gently roaming over the entirety of my body as his hips move slower. He's taking his time, relishing every second and feeling me gradually get more slick at his undoing.

His lips are on my neck, not providing marks to match the ones hidden on the inside of my thighs and my chest, but merely resting there. He kisses me in between gentle thrusts, letting out small whimpers of his own when I clench tightly around him.

This...

This is different.

We've had slow morning sex before, but never like this. Somehow, I find myself drifting, like I'm being carried away by his current. There's nothing but me, Spencer, and our breathing... Our bodies, our air, our souls...

This is what I imagine making love feels like.

Which is why I barely notice when it slips from my mouth— Three words that should feel more daunting due to the weight they hold and the way they ultimately change everything. And yet, whispering “I love you,” in a nearly breathless string of syllables feels incredibly natural. It’s more sincere than anything I think I’ve ever told him, so much so that I don’t even think about what it will mean in the long-run. Instead I let it fall from my lips again and again without regret or consequence.

He doesn't stop, either. Spencer continues to fuck me softly, like it's all he knows how to do. In fact, my confession only seems to make him relax more.

And that's what finally pushes me over the edge.

His name escapes my mouth in a whisper that sounds more like a plea not to leave, and he holds me closer to him. Our bodies are flush together, my back resting perfectly against his chest as he takes a few final thrusts and empties himself inside of me.

If we stayed like that forever, I could die happy.

And actually, that wouldn't be far from the truth, given that if we did stay here forever, my mom would certainly find us and kill us.

The thought makes me sigh.

"You have to leave..."

"I know..."

Spencer pulls me closer, squeezing me tight and giving me a long, bold kiss on the jaw before he rips himself away and takes my heart with him.

AUGUST 18th

Things are significantly different now.

After the morning I let slip that I love him, Spencer and I had been intimate once. We found ourselves alone while Mom was at the grocery store and instinctually came together.

It was quick, and it was fast and rough, and while it obviously felt good, something was off. But I knew it wasn't a physical problem. Like I said, it felt as good as any other time we'd been together, but it just wasn't right.

I hate it.

It hasn't even been a week since then, and I miss him. I miss our dynamic, and I miss the way I used to feel when he touched me.

So I stalk into the office and lean against the doorframe, watching Spencer as he goes through a large pile of paperwork. His hands and his eyes are moving at near light-speed, and the way he concentrates almost makes me feel bad for my intrusion—Honestly, I could have looked at him all damn day.

But there's a bigger plan in mind.

"What'cha up to?"

He looks up and greets me with a smile. "School starts in a few weeks. I'm just trying to get my coursework prepared."

"Oh... You... mind if I keep you company?"

"Not at all."

It's an innocent enough exchange, though I'm hoping I can change that. Mom doesn't get off work for another few hours, so it gives me ample time to do what I have planned.

I walk over and nudge his leg with my knee, and he lets me in. I climb on his lap, and after giving me a brief kiss on the cheek he returns to going through his paperwork.

My face turns and I nestle it into his neck. He hums softly when I kiss the skin under his jaw, once, and then twice, and then over and over in quick succession.

I can feel him smile. "What are you up to, princess?"

Hearing the nickname return in earnest makes me smile. I nip softly at his neck and run my tongue along it. "Mmm, trouble."

"Sounds like you," he mutters through a sultry sigh once I start going lower, kissing the top of his shoulder.

I slide my hands up the front of his chest and gently undo the top button, giving me access to more skin. "You love it when I make trouble..."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that."

I slide off his lap then, crouching between his legs and looking up at him with a smile. "Really?"

All he does is look down at me, his pupils growing bigger by the second. So I continue my venture, sliding my hands up the insides of his legs until I reach the belt. "So you don't love when I do this?"

Spencer sighs, helping me by lifting his hips a little and letting me slide down layers of fabric until his dick is right in front of me.

I don't waste any time, taking him in my hand and bringing him to my mouth. He's still not entirely hard yet, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I let out a happy sigh just before I press kiss after kiss along the entire length of him. From base to tip, I take my time kissing and licking along the salty skin and giving him my full attention. I pull back and admire him, I smile, I kiss and I lick and I squeeze him with my hand... And when he's finally nice and hard, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

"Y/N..."

I hum around him, sinking further down until he hits the back of my throat, and then I come back up and repeat. It's slow. Maybe torturous even, but really I don't mean it to be.

Thankfully Spencer seems to be happy with my speed and technique; His eyes are on the verge of closing and his chest is heaving slowly, fingers gently caressing the sides of my face as I go down on him.

It's this same slow, steadying pace we'd taken before, and it's exactly what we needed.

I can feel his touch on my face, burning into my skin and marking me for all eternity. Likewise, the thick, throbbing weight of his cock sliding over my tongue and down my throat feels just like home— Like it's right where we're meant to be.

Once again, we fit together perfectly.

This epiphany sets a fire deep in the pits of my stomach, and just like that our spark is back again.

I look up and catch his eye, and he lets me keep it, forcing himself to keep his eyelids open to watch me. My pace remains consistent and slow, and and he brings both of his hands under my chin. The way he holds my face is so gentle, so loving and sensual that I nearly burst with tears at the sentiment alone, and it doesn't take long for him to start letting go.

He stutters my name when he comes, still using the pads of his nimble fingers to caress my throat. I take in and swallow each rope of cum until it's gone, and even then I keep him in my mouth, gently bobbing my head up and down just for the sake of feeling him inside me somehow.

But then he lifts me off of him and his dick falls limp in his lap. I sigh and lean down, kissing it a few times before just resting my head in his lap as he strokes my hair.

"You're right," Spencer says after a few moments.

"About what?"

"I do love when you make trouble."

We laugh, and I lift my head to look up at him.

"I know... It's your favorite."

"That it is, princess."

AUGUST 26th

I wish more than anything that this orientation would just end. My left foot is anxiously tapping the cool white tile of the floor as I wait to be next in line to grab my paperwork and get on my way— To home for what I'm sure will be a long weekend trying to find free minutes to steal with Spencer.

In another life it might have gotten tedious and painful sneaking around for so long, but I found it excited me. Sure, my feelings for Spencer were growing at an exponential rate, but ever since I visited him in our home office, we seemed to be getting back our groove— With an added flair I might add...

Each time we were together was more intense than the last. His hands got more possessive, his kisses got deeper and more passionate, and the way he looked at me?

I could swear I felt him falling just as deep as I was.

The smile it all brought to my face in that moment fell a little short when they called me next in line, and I fell into a joyful step forward to collect my things.

When I get home, though, things aren't as joyful.

The first thing I notice is that Spencer's car isn't in the driveway or even on the street. He's usually here on weekends, so I wonder if he's out for something, or even out with my mom on a lunch date or something.

I try not to think about that thought too much and step inside, hoping to at least enjoy the silence for a little while, lest they really are out together.

I think I'm out of the woods when I hear the television, a laugh track of some kind, but then it turns into the Friends theme blaring through the speakers, and my heart nearly falls into the pit of my stomach.

There's only one reason Mom would be watching Friends. She swears up and down that she hates it, but it always ends up on TV when there's one specific thing she's going through, because "Hearing them complain about their stupid problems make me feel better about my own!"

Her own problem being a breakup.

For a moment I wonder if maybe Spencer had told her about us. Or maybe she found something somehow that would give us away. I make my way slowly through the space until I reach the living room, my brain making up every possible horrendous outcome— Not even to prepare for the blow, because I know that absolutely nothing could prepare me for the wrath of my mother in any situation... I simply can't help myself from feeling guilty and heartbroken as my stomach churns and my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the TV anymore.

When I come into her view, Mom freezes and lets out a large breath of shaky air. The small tub of ice cream in her hands shakes just as much, and I can tell she's trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I've never seen her this upset before. Normally it's just anger and annoyance, but this time she looks utterly broken.

"M—Mom?" I stutter, even though she probably can't even hear what I'm saying over the TV. I still don't know if she knows about my involvement with Spencer, but I feel like she'd be more angry with me than sad, so I figure it's safe to come closer.

The moment I take a step forward, she sets the ice cream on the floor and opens her arms to me, a choked sob forcing its way out. It almost makes me cry, just seeing her this heartbroken, and in an instant I'm running to her and snuggling into her side as she hugs me.

"What happened?" I will myself to ask, even though I still have no idea what it means for me. Maybe that's selfish, but if he's taking himself out of Mom's life, surely that has to mean he's removing himself from mine as well, right? And if he's just leaving without saying anything... God, that would ruin me, too.

Still, I wait to hear what Mom will say.

"He broke up with me," is all she says, through a long and tired sigh. She mutes the TV and then holds me tighter. I can feel that there's pure sadness controlling her every movement, and it crushes me.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he just... He said he didn't love me, and he wasn't feeling it anymore."

"That's all?"

"Uh huh... It was so sudden, too, like... I thought we were really getting along, and I just... I don't understand how he couldn't feel it... I felt all of it, and he just... He felt nothing. How could he feel nothing?"

I really don't know what to say anymore... It seems to me like Spencer really told her the truth and ended their relationship because he didn't feel anything for her anymore, but... I always knew he had to have felt something... I guess I just didn't realize someone could fall out of it so quickly.

The guilt overwhelms me then, when it dawns on me that I made him fall out of it so fast. I was there, taking up small moments of his time until, eventually, I'd taken up so much of it that it wasn't just his time I was stealing, but also his love. His fire, and his passion... Month by month, day by day, I was draining the love he had for my mom and distilling it to meet my own desires.

And now, here I am, in my mothers arms as she weeps over a man she truly loved, all because he and I were selfish and treasonous.

If Spencer decides he still wants to be with me after this, I really don't know if I could do it. Even after all this time... After all this trouble and guilt and glorious treason...

He could never really be mine.

———

Y/N,

I knew this day would come from the moment I met you. Of course, I didn't know how far my feelings would take me, but in the end I knew I would one day have to leave you and your mother behind.

Day by day my feelings for you grew stronger, and it wasn't until you told me you loved me that August Thirteenth that I realized I loved you, too. What we had was always dangerous, but by then my heart was focused solely on you, and I could feel your mother slipping from my grasp.

I pretended for as long as I could, but now you've taken up so much space in my brain that when Eve pulled me near, I almost sighed out your name instead. I knew then that no longer could I "keep up appearances," as I often like to tell you.

Maybe one day you and I can find our way back to each other, but for now, I think it's for the very best that we go our separate ways.

In my wildest dreams I will think of you fondly, and I can only hope that you might do the same.

Always Yours, Spencer

JUNE 19th, SEVEN YEARS LATER

There are so many things I'm thinking about when I come home tonight.

One: I'm a little tipsy and completely fucked out, which reminds me of that night I came home in the exact same state, only to find my mom's old boyfriend, Spencer, unable to sleep and to stop staring at my bare legs. The memory brings a smile to my face.

Two: My feet fucking hurt and I want to get these goddamned shoes off.

Three: The ghost of Spencer's smile when he saw me for the first time in seven years burns in the back of my mind, right next to the ghost of his hands caressing my skin like it had been the first time.

Four: How am I going to spend the rest of the summer back in town knowing what it feels like to have fucked him at all without an ounce of guilt attached to it?

Five: Am I going to tell my mom that I slept with her ex-boyfriend tonight?

Six: Fuck, I'm hungry...

My heels come off as soon as I step through the door.

The light is on, and I can hear Mom laughing in the kitchen with Adam from far away, which brings a fond smile to my face. I'm glad that she's finally happy, with someone who doesn't make me want to fall to my knees, thank you very much.

And truthfully, if I hadn't ran into Spencer at all tonight, I'm not sure I ever would have thought about that whole situation again— It was fucked up, he ended up leaving both of us, and Mom was so deeply devastated after their breakup that I didn't have the heart to tell her I missed him too. I just buried it deep down and tried to move on right alongside her, eventually erasing his memory from my mind, body, and soul.

Well, almost.

There were days, obviously, where his letter hummed inside my pillowcase where he left it, whether I brought it to college or kept it at home, or it sat soundly in my new apartment. His words were always there, spilling into my dreams and dancing with me through our memories; tangled tongues and limbs, wild nights and passionate mornings...

I'd wake up feeling hot to the touch and missing him completely.

Thankfully those days were few and far in between, and for a while I'd stopped thinking of him altogether.

But of course, it turns out that Spencer Reid is in fact, pretty damn inevitable.

That bar downtown was packed, so it was a wonder I'd even ran into him of all people in the first place. What he was doing there I didn't know. And neither do I now, because from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it was this constant state of shell-shock and fire, nothing else. He asked briefly about Mom, I told him she'd been married for four years, and then he joked about how he was surprised I hadn't tried to steal him from her.

Naturally, with that ever so playful look in his eye practically taunting me, I played to his joke and responded with a sultry smile, "The only one I ever wanted to steal was you, Doctor..."

The rest wasn't exactly a blur, but all I'm going to say is that we spent the rest of our time together at his apartment, "catching up on lost time"... And as much as I'd grown out of the submissive role sexually over the years, I found myself crawling back, submitting to him like I'd done it a million times over. And, really, I might as well have.

It's like we'd never stopped.

That being said, I declined his offer to stay the night and told him to give me a call some time before I left to go back to Seattle. Though, not without giving him a thousand goodbye kisses that were rather counterproductive.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks burn hot, though thankfully it's summer, and Mom won't have to question it. Though, if she does, I suppose I could keep it short and sweet and tell her the truth at the very least: that I met up with an old friend who showed me a good time.

"Hey'a, Sweetpea," she greets with a bright wave. She and Adam are obviously a little tipsy, more than me by the looks of it, but I pay it no mind. "How was you're night?"

"Great! Went to a few bars downtown, met up with some friends..."

"Oh, good, well we're glad you got back safe."

I snag a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, then turn back around to see Mom and Adam snuggled in, sharing a smile that would make even the happiest person on the planet sick to their stomach.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of back then, when she was with Spencer, happier than ever and completely oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's life.

The thought makes my stomach flutter, taking me back to earlier in the night when he had his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth attached to my skin, spewing filthy words and praises that had me begging for more...

"I missed you, princess," he whispers, holding himself deep inside me. His fingers brush the matted hair from my face, revealing more of my saccharine smile and eyes that swim with mischief.

"I missed you too," I whine, reaching out and grabbing handfuls of his ass, shoving him even farther inside me and wrapping my legs around him tighter. "...Daddy..."

Spencer loses all semblance of cool, pulling back and slamming into me with full force. I—

"Y/N?"

I blink away his memory, reminding myself of where I am and what I'm doing, finding Mom looking at me with a curious gleam in her eye.

"What are you thinking about?"

With a small smile, I nod in her direction. "Oh, uh... You'll never believe who I ran into tonight."

———

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If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[marvelouspeterparker]

professor’s sweetheart

pairing: professor!tom holland x student!reader

summary: professor holland teaches british literature at your university. you hadn’t expected much when you signed up for the course, but the experience is everything and more than you could have hoped for. 

word count: 15.1k

warnings: there is smut in here but it’s not the main focus (wild, i know)

notes: uh yeah i’d say just don’t fuck your professor? this is purely fictional. be safe, you know how it is <3

also she wrote a professor!harry styles fic, but if i hadn’t read that (over and over) i probably wouldn’t have been inspired to write this. so check out @songbirdstyles​ !

i listened to this playlist while writing it if ur interested :)

give me feedback please!!

“What class do you have next?” Your friend, and roommate Liz asked. You were both walking out of the cafeteria. It was 1:15, you had just finished lunch and you had fifteen minutes until your next class. You pushed the doors open together and braced yourselves as the cool late September breeze hit you, blowing your jackets open. You put both sides of the jacket together in front of you and crossed your arms to block the cold out. 

“Um,” you thought back for a moment, the cold temporarily knocking your senses right out of you. “British Literature.”

If you were being honest, you had taken this course because it fulfilled one of your requirements, but in the end it felt like one of the most rewarding parts of your college experience so far. The material was interesting, and instead of being bored out of your mind throughout the whole hour and a half of class––it was actually entertaining. You had your professor to thank for that.

“Oooh,” Liz twisted her lips to the side to suppress a knowing smile, but the look in her eyes gave it away. “With Professor Holland?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue to hide your smile. “Yes,” you shoved her playfully to the side making her step in a pile of leaves, the crunch under boots loud as ever as it carried through the crisp air. “Shut up.”

You and Liz had been roommates since your first year at university and had now spent four, coming up on five semesters rooming together. Luckily, you really hit it off, and easily fell into a routine together, forming a bond as you ate lunch and dinner together, studied in the library, had dance parties in your dorm, and more. You knew each other inside and out, often having random late night conversations while you procrastinated your work or couldn’t sleep, about literally anything and everything. Bottom line is, you trusted each other, which is why she knew about your sort-of-crush on Professor Holland. 

To be fair everyone had a thing for him, he was just that kind of guy. He was sweet and compassionate and funny. Professor Holland was one of those genuine professors who sincerely cared about their students and their well-beings. He was incredibly understanding. He’d schedule dozens of meetings with his students all in one day just because he wanted to help and make sure they were all alright. He liked to check in every now and then, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

From what you could tell he also seemed like a people person. No matter who he was with, whether it was a student, his teaching assistant Jacob, or his fellow professors––he was always attentive, cracking jokes, enjoying the conversation. Everyone seemed to love him. But you could also tell that a part of him was just a tad bit cocky, but in a joking and love-able way. 

All this goes to show that you spent way too much time thinking about him, and observing him, which could either be seen as really endearing or really creepy. 

“Look I’m just saying,” Liz shrugged, “Enjoy the class.” She nudged you, “I know I would.”

Realizing you were approaching the writing and arts center, and Liz’s next class was in the building across the street, you sent her off. “Yeah yeah, okay. Bye.” You tightened your arms around you and scurried off, skipping a crack in the sidewalk and walking up the steps to the building. You opened the door and were immediately welcomed by a rush of warm air and let out a sigh, rubbing your hands together as you made your way to the lecture hall. 

You pulled your phone out and checked the time, 1:22. You still had 8 minutes to spare. You were still walking and only glanced up from your phone right as you were about to walk into the door and were stopped suddenly when you crashed into a hard chest. You immediately felt two warm hands grasp your arms to steady you and were suddenly enveloped by the smell of tea and mint. 

“Woah! I’m sorry, love, are you alright?”

You froze as you looked up, feeling very much like a deer in headlights as you realized you quite literally crashed into your professor. “Oh––um,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air was escaping you. You cleared your throat trying to save yourself from anymore embarrassment. “I’m fine––I’m sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t looking––” You paused when you noticed the small smile on his face, his warm eyes making you forget what you were going to say.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It was partially my fault as well, I was too focused on––” he seemed to snap out of some trance, straightening himself up as his hands dropped back down to his sides and into his pockets. “Uh, well that’s not important.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket––he was wearing those blue slacks that you thought made his thighs look great, respectfully, of course. He checked the time on his watch and you had to stop yourself from ogling the veins in his arms as he did so. 

He looked up at you, brows furrowed playfully and you actually had to remind yourself to breathe. “You’re almost ten minutes early. You that eager to see me?” He ended his question with a teasing smirk and your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed to string together a response.

“I––um, I just really like this class and you––you’re my favorite professor.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating up as you realized what you just admitted. You had to force your eyes to go back to their normal size after they practically bulged at the realization of what you said. “And I mean, I just happened to get here early so...I thought I might as well get settled in.”

Your professor cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he glanced down at his shoes for a moment then back up at you. “Well then.” He extended his arm, pointing towards the open door of the hall and stepped aside. “Please, after you.” 

You gave him a small smile in return along with a quiet thank you and stepped through the door. But before you could walk over to your seat, you felt him lean over behind you to talk lowly in your ear. He was standing a respectably close distance, but his presence was so overwhelming it was as though you felt him everywhere. His breath caressed the smooth skin of your cheek as he spoke. 

“I’m technically not allowed to have favorites, but I do appreciate that you enjoy having me as your professor, darling.” It shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, really, it shouldn’t have. But something about him referring to himself by his title really did something to you. You took a sharp inhale as you stood up straight, your whole body on high alert as you turned your head towards him, your eyes refusing to look at his and instead finding solace in the fabric of his navy blue button up––which he’d rolled up to his forearms. 

“And if it means anything, I rather do enjoy having you in my class as well.” You snuck a peek at him, lifting your gaze slowly and only caught a glimpse of his soft lips as he smiled before walking over to his desk. 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you walked up the steps to your usual spot in the middle row, near the aisle. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, and the man hadn’t even touched you––well not in the way you wanted him to, anyway. But enough of that. 

You checked your phone again, trying to calm down your heartbeat as you took in a deep breath, 1:28. People started shuffling into the class, the overlapping sounds of chatter and laughter rupturing the energy the room had when it was just the two of you. At 1:32 Professor Holland started the class, getting everyone’s attention smoother than anyone should be able to. You could almost feel everyone’s eyes focusing on him, some weren’t even listening to him, they were just so entranced by how good he looked and the way he sounded––his accent was just so endearing, you had to admit it. 

The hour and a half went by rather quickly but today you were more aware of yourself, of Professor Holland––even more than usual. It seemed as though his eyes would travel to your direction more often, after he made jokes as if to see your reaction, or while he paused in his speeches. 

At the end of the class, despite there being dozens of other students moving around you, you felt as though your professor was watching you as you made your way out of the room. But it had to be your imagination, there was just no way. 

When you got back to your dorm, Liz still wasn’t back yet so you decided to take a shower and spend some time relaxing. You had already done your work for the next day and your other work for the rest of the week––well, you decided you’d do it later. 

You changed into sweats after your shower and hopped on your bed, deciding to switch between your apps for an hour or so––honestly you’d lost track of time. Liz strolled in soon after, closing the door with a loud groan, throwing her bag on the floor.

You smiled, looking up at her from your lying position on the bed. “Hello to you too.”

She grumbled in response, finally looking at you. When she noticed you were already wearing your pajamas she pointed to you, her brows raised. “Good idea!” She immediately went to her drawers and picked out a random pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, changing with lightning speed for someone who was sluggishly groaning not even a minute before. 

She grabbed her phone and sat on her bed opposite yours, cross-legged, facing you. She looked at your face for a few seconds before squinting her eyes at you. “You have something to say. Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face. 

She looked at you pointedly, “Well go on.” 

So you told her about your encounter with the infamous brit today, how you bumped into him, what he said to you, the glances he sent your way. When you finished recounting everything you took a deep breath, “But––this could all just be in my head you know, just me overreacting.”

She stared at you with a dead expression. “Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hey!”

She ignored you, rolling her eyes while she tried not to laugh. “Dude he totally wants to fuck you.” She said nonchalantly.

Your eyes bulged, “W–What do you––What?” 

“Oh please, it’s so obvious.”

You opened your mouth but when nothing came out, you paused and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments you looked back up at her to find her with a knowing smirk on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am, when am I not?” When you were about to speak, she interrupted you. “Don’t answer that. But look, it seems like he’s into you. I think you should hit that.”

“But we––that’s not allowed!” You paused, “Is it?”

She laughed, “A ha! So you do want to!”

“Oh shut up, you already knew that. Everyone wants to, it’s not a big deal.”

She made a face, “Yes, but you’re the only one who actually has a chance at getting it.” 

You looked at her, a skeptical look on your face. “Even if that was true––he’s still my professor…”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah but it’s not like it’s in the handbook or anything. Plus, you’re both legal adults, so. There you have it. You’re free to bone.”

“You did not just say that.”

“But I did.” She smiled, lying down in her bed. “You really could, though. Just don’t tell anybody.” When you didn’t say anything else, she spoke up. “Okay I’m gonna take a nap now. You have a lot to think about.” 

You ignored the last part and went back to your phone, “Yeah you do that.” 

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and night you couldn’t stop thinking about this whole situation. This was bad...Or was it? It seemed all too complicated, that was for sure. You weren’t even sure he looked at you or thought of you that way. 

You fell asleep playing all the pros and cons of hypothetically getting with him, your mind an endless loop of your professor, his voice, how he sounded when he practically whispered that he liked being your teacher. This was all too much.

❊❊❊❊

All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. The tongue, teeth and lips following and leaving marks everywhere the hands traced. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. Your eyes locked in on the ones staring up at you with pure hunger and awe as you ground yourself down on his cock.

“That’s it darling, just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” His lips curved into that oh so familiar smirk. “I taught you well, didn’t I?”

You woke up sweaty, your shirt sticking to your torso, a wet patch on your panties, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of your dorm room. A sex dream. Of course you had a fucking sex dream about him. Fuck. You were just lucky that your next class with him was on Thursday so you didn’t have to see him today. Because that would not help you at all. 

You checked the time on your phone, squinting at the brightness before turning it all the way down, 10am. You got out of bed with a groan and took your toiletries bag and your towel to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower this morning, instead of later on at night. Lord knows you certainly needed one. A cold one too.

You were frustrated, frustrated with yourself for feeling this way about your professor––sure, he was only a few years older than you, but it was the principle of the matter––frustrated that you were overthinking this entire thing, and most importantly you were annoyed because you were extremely horny. 

When you got into the bathroom, you locked the door and set your stuff down. You put your hands on both sides of the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. Who are we and what happened? You sighed and grabbed your toothbrush, brushing your teeth quickly and aggressively, since everything seemed to be a hassle this morning. You’d hoped that once you hopped in the shower, you’d calm down. 

When you made your way inside, you sighed contently at the feeling of the warm water pattering against your skin, freshening you up immediately. Your nipples were still hard, between your legs still wet. So you brought a hand down between your thighs, the other to your breast as you stood under the water––almost as though the water was washing away the sinful act and thoughts right at the source. You laughed at the thought, nope, nothing can wash this away. 

You squeezed your breast and tugged at your nipple, rubbing your sensitive bud just the way you liked. You were still sensitive from...your dream, so it didn’t take long for everything to build up. You couldn’t help yourself, your mind brought back the remnants of last night that you remembered, the way his hands gripped you when he steadied you, the way his arms looked, and you came with a whimper that was louder than you would have liked. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the tiles as the water continued to fall on you. 

When you came back to your dorm, Liz was on her way out but she stopped, raising her brows at you, “So have you come to a conclusion?”

You walked past her into the dorm, “Go to class, Liz.” You heard her cackle down the hallway as you closed the door. 

You got dressed casually, not rushing since there was nowhere for you to go and decided to go to the local cafe near the school. You needed to clear your head and get some work done, and you definitely would not get any of it done in your dorm. Not today, anyway. 

You checked the weather and seeing that it was a little warmer today, you put a sweatshirt on, grabbed your bag along with your phone and your laptop and you were on your way. The breeze felt refreshing this morning as you stepped out of your dorm. Your walk to the cafe was only ten or so minutes but it felt good. 

Stepping into the little shop, you were immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and sweets, surrounded by the sound of light chatter and utensils clattering on the wooden tables. The warm light above you brought a sense of comfort as you made your way over to the counter. The line was rather short so you managed to order your usual drink and snack quickly. As you were waiting for the cashier to hand you your things, your eyes scanned the shop––the ambience was rather nice and the talking almost felt like background noises. You wouldn’t mind staying here to work.

As you gathered your things, you turned around in search of a free table––which would be the deciding factor in whether or not you would stay, you did not want to awkwardly share the small table space with some stranger. You took a few steps into the seating area and almost choked on your breath when you made eye contact with the last person you wanted to see today. 

He smiled charmingly at you, teeth and all and quickly made his way over before you even had a chance to think of escaping. “Y/N!” He stood in front of you, his eyes bright. He was actually happy to see you? He was always happy to see everyone, it didn’t mean anything. 

His voice snapped you out of your annoyingly loud thoughts.  “Fancy seeing you here.” He nudged you playfully, “How are you?” He was wearing a very tight white button up that was unbuttoned until the third, showing a generous amount of his chest, a grey suit and pants, along with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It took you a few more seconds than it should have to process that there were actual words coming out of his mouth.  

You forced a smile onto your face but the more you looked into his eyes, the more genuine it became, almost impossible to wipe off. “I’m good. Was just grabbing breakfast before I start my work. You?”

He raised his cup, “Same as you. Have a bit of time before my next class.” 

You noticed that you couldn’t tell what exactly was in the cup and your curiosity got the better of you. You pointed to the cup clasped in his fingers, “Is that coffee?”

He furrowed his brows in mock offense, “I only drink tea, darling.” He leaned his upper body forward to whisper to you, his cheek almost touching yours, “I’d think you would know that about your favorite professor.” He tutted playfully as he stood up straight again, watching you, a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his eyes as he watched you over his cup, taking a teasingly long sip. 

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, not a clue what to respond. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth he looked down at you, his gaze drifting down and you’d never felt more exposed, despite the fact that you were wearing two layers of clothing. “I like your sweatshirt.” He smiled, glancing down at it before looking directly into your eyes, his head lowered slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped down to see your spiderman sweatshirt looking back at you boldly. Oh––Oh. You lifted your head back up to find him still smiling at you softly, he didn’t seem to be teasing you at all. “Um thanks.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, despite the cool air that swept your legs as someone opened the door to the cafe. “Are you uh–– a marvel fan?” 

He pursed his lips playfully, “Yeah,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah you could say that.” He licked his lips and took another sip of his drink.

Your eyes, with a mind of their own, trailed down the column of his throat, following the vein on the side of his neck, the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the warm liquid. The action almost seemed provocative, in both meanings of the term. 

Suddenly you felt very hot and you knew that you had to get out of there before you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but most importantly him. You perked up, “I uh––I have to go professor, but it was nice talking with you. See you tomorrow!” With that you quite literally ran off, wincing as you turned around, having noticed the way his lips parted as if to speak, a furrow between his brows appearing out of confusion and concern. You really had to get control of yourself. 

You practically berated yourself as you speed walked away. God, that was so stupid. And not to mention, incredibly rude! He’d probably be upset with you now, or maybe even mad. It’s just––unbelievable what he did to you, without even actually doing anything. It took you the entire walk there to realize that you unconsciously made your way back to your dorm––so much for the library. But you’d had enough social interaction for today, so you decided you’d stay there.

You got in your bed and buried yourself under the covers, deciding you needed the comfort of being hidden in your mattress after the embarrassment you’d just experienced. You lied there just staring at the plain, white ceiling for way too long until you let out a loud huff and sat up, before grabbing your computer to start your work. 

Deciding to check your college email before you started, since they were incessant and it was easy to miss something, you scanned down the list of messages in your inbox. Your eyes skimmed through the boxes on the left of your screen, notifications that your professors left feedback on your assignments, the weekly newsletter, club events, a message from Holland, Tom––

You shut your computer immediately, eyes bulging as you held your breath. You swallowed thickly, as you stared into nothing in front of you, your eyes barely taking in anything, your mind a big ball of fuzz. 

After taking a few deep breaths, and telling your overdramatic brain to calm down, you opened the laptop again. Biting your lip, you hovered your mouse over the message, reading over the small bits of information you could see in the preview.

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, I just wanted to make  …

You could feel your heart beating through your chest. Oh God––Wanted to make sure what?? The sensible part of your brain said to just open it to figure it out for yourself. But the irrational, idiotic part of your brain was yelling at you to not open it under any circumstance. What if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea? Did he know how you felt about him? Were you that obvious? Maybe he thinks you’re clinically insane and wants to make sure you’re getting the attention you need? You did run off like a crazy person, after all. 

You shut your eyes tight and groaned loudly into your hands. Liz walked in and whistled lowly, taking in everything in front of her. You looked up, confused and looked at the time, realizing it had already been two hours since you first left the dorm, meaning she was done with her classes for the day.

“What’s up?” She took a seat at her desk, propping her legs on the table as she leaned back.

You waved her off, deciding it would be best to let this blow over and ignore it for now. You’d go back when you were in the right state of mind. 

She started telling you about her day and annoyingly, your brain decided today would be the day that it would not shut off. Your brows were furrowed as you tried your best to focus on what your friend was saying, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction, staring up into the air above her as she spoke animated, hands waving around, so she didn’t even notice you struggling to pay attention. 

Your eyes kept flitting back to the screen of your computer, your fingers swiping across the trackpad to turn it back on when the screen’s brightness lowered every now and then. 

Liz looked back at you and stopped her spiel. “Alright what’s up with you?” 

You sighed deeply and looked up at her. “Sorry, sorry. I just––I saw Professor Holland today––”

“Already?” She interrupted you, a goofy smile on her face. “Damn, you work fast.”

You threw the nearest pillow at her, “Shut up! I didn’t fuck him.”

“You should’ve.” She pointed out, holding the pillow to her chest. 

You glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender, then continued, your eyes bouncing from object to object in the room as you babbled. 

“I went to the cafe and I saw him and he came over to me and we started talking––and he whispered in my ear and he was joking around with me and he sipped his tea and he was super close to me and super hot, and I couldn’t handle it so I basically ran off without giving him a chance to say bye.” You took a deep breath, “And then he sent me an email after I saw him and I still haven’t opened it because I’m scared and I don’t know what he said…” You took another breath and looked at your friend, blinking as she just stared at you.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Dude just open the email.”

Your eyes widened almost in offense. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“Yeah you practically fucked in the cafe then you got scared and ran away.” She spoke nonchalantly and you could tell she was fighting off a smile. “Look, eventually you have to open the email anyway, you can’t just ignore it. So just do it and rip the bandaid off.” You were about to speak up when she interrupted you, “I promise it won’t be half as bad as you think. We both know your mind is absolutely filled with the craziest ideas.” 

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, not bothering to argue since you both knew she was right. 

“Shit, I’m starving.” She looked at the time, “Yeah it’s about time for me to eat food.” She stood up, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Can you please get something for me?” She knew you well enough that you didn’t have to tell her what to get. You gave her your best smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“Are you serious.” She looked at you, deadpan, standing like the little emoji of the woman standing in place with her arms at her sides. 

You had to suppress your smile, “What if I see him?” You asked incredulously, lying further in the covers. “I’d rather stay in here and hide, for now.”

“You have class with him tomorrow––”

“That’s why I said for now.”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her things, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you!”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand and walked out the door. 

A few moments passed after Liz left and you sat up yet again, putting your computer on your lap as you swiped the trackpad, making the screen light up again. You checked the time, it had been almost an hour since he sent the email, you really shouldn’t make him wait any longer. Not that he’s waiting at all, he probably didn’t even notice that you hadn’t responded.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, swallowed your nerves and clicked on the email. 

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, 

I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You seemed kind of stressed when you left earlier and I’m hoping it wasn’t because of anything I did. Can we check in tomorrow in my office? Hope everything is going well. 

Warmest Regards,

Professor Holland

He wanted to meet tomorrow after class. In his office. Alone. 

Oh, fuck. You could hear Liz in your head going Yes, fuck. But you quickly shoved her aside. 

You read over the email about five times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting anything, because that would be even more embarrassing. You clicked the reply button and slowly wrote out your response.

Hi Professor Holland,

Everything is fine, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern. I’m free tomorrow after class if you’re available then.

Thank you!

Y/N

You hit send and not even two minutes later, you received a response. 

Hi Y/N,

Perfect! I’ll see you then :)

Warmly,

Professor Holland

How on earth were you supposed to focus on your work now? More importantly, how were you going to focus in class tomorrow?

❊❊❊❊

The next day, the butterflies in your stomach would not calm down. When you stepped into the class, he was talking to another student and you tried to sneak past to your seat unnoticed. You thought you’d succeeded but once you sat down and looked up, you made direct eye contact with him and you swear you stopped breathing. You barely even recognized the sound of everyone moving around you, getting ready for class to start. 

He parted his lips and reluctantly turned back to the student still talking to him, snapping out of his daze, but not after glancing back at you. You swallowed and sank down in your seat. This was going to be a long class. 

At 1:35, class started. Professor Holland stood up and clasped his hands, making his way to the middle of the floor in front of everybody, his voice reverberating through the room. 

“Good afternoon everybody. Hope you’re all doing well.” His eyes found yours and you bit your lip nervously. You could see him swallow as he watched you, before moving his gaze elsewhere. Was that because of you? Surely, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe you made him uncomfortable. Oh great––

He went on, seemingly unfazed, eyes darting back to you subtly before continuing. The discussion soon turned to the book you’d just been assigned to read. The book was rather lengthy but there were always so many things to talk about within only a few pages––which you loved, so it was taking you all a while to go through everything together in class. 

The conversations often took up a lot of the class time since Professor Holland simply loved talking and he always found everyone’s interpretations interesting and worth exploring––eager to hear our classmates perspectives. He also often said that he was not good at using technology, so he preferred to just talk and show rather than use his computer. Honestly, you found it endearing.

The conversations were always interesting to listen to, people never failed to give you insight on things you hadn’t even thought of before, but sometimes––some people were just a little stupid.

Someone brought up a slightly sexist point that made absolutely no sense but since you weren’t the one to call someone out in front of a room full of people, you stuck to your facial reactions instead of audibly responding. You turned back to the front of the class to see Professor Holland’s opinion to find that he was watching you, trying and failing to suppress his smile. 

He put both hands in his pockets which you found ironic considering they would jump out any time soon––he loved to talk with his hands. His eyes got serious, the smile on his face a little less friendly as he addressed the sophomore who made the comment. “I don’t know if you’re aware of how ludicrously sexist that comment you just made was, but now you know.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Remember to think before you speak. This isn’t to necessarily call anyone out. It’s a warning. Senseless remarks will not only affect my view of you, but your grades as well.” 

He went on and tried to shape the boy’s comment into something appropriate to discuss and you honestly couldn’t focus on anything else he said, you were just looking at him in awe and in shock. Sure, this was the bare minimum, but since it was so rare to see, it was very noticeable and even impressive when you noticed it.

God, you adored this man.

Near the end of class, he announced the next assignment, a paper you’d have to write about a comparison you made between any point in the story, a character, a theme, a hidden meaning, etc. and something in our modern reality, a social norm, a popular belief, etc. Your essays were always very open ended in this class, giving you room to write about almost anything you wanted to. Your professor knew that the assignments would be more enjoyable if there was some choice involved. He truly was good at his job. 

“Look, reading’s hard sometimes, I get it. I’m dyslexic, so trust me, I understand. But I never let that stop me.” He paused to look around the room and it was so silent you could hear each other’s inhales and exhales. The power he had over a room full of around one hundred people was insane, and in a weird way, also turned you on. “I know the book is massive. Listen to the audio books if you have to, I don’t mind. But get the work done either way. It’s not for me, it’s for you. I want you to get the best grade you can in this class.”

“Bring me interesting material. I don’t want to fall asleep reading your work.” He joked and smiled proudly when laughter filled the room. “The essay is due in two weeks. Good luck.”

There were a few thank you’s and goodbyes scattered around the room as he sent everyone off, people scurrying from all sides to the exits. 

You took your time gathering all your things and took a deep breath when the last few people made their way out, silence soon surrounding the both of you. You put your bag over your shoulder and walked down the carpeted steps, suddenly finding the dark grey pattern to be the most interesting things you’ve ever seen––and also watching your steps so that you don’t fall down them in front of him. You could barely hear the soft patter of your shoes as you walked down. When you finally got the main floor you looked up and saw him waiting for you patiently, things in his hands, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s go then, shall we?” You nodded shyly and he led the way, his office only a hallway away from the lecture hall. You found it slightly odd that he didn’t try to make conversation on your way there, since he always loved to. But you tried not to think too hard about it. Maybe he was just tired. 

When you reached his office, he opened the door and let you walk in first. Your eyes immediately scanned the room out of curiosity as you stepped inside, noticing his desk, the wood a dark mahogany which was covered with stacks of papers, picture frames, pens, and a few marvel funko pops––so he really was a fan. You’d never actually been inside of his office before. It was an intimidating thought for you to be in his office with him, alone. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. 

You turned to him and gestured to the chair across from his desk, “Do I just––”

“Please,” he interrupted eagerly. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a seat and he set his things down next to his desk before sitting as well. His hair was coiffed to perfection today, curls sculpted nicely, a dark blue suit on his body with a black shirt underneath. He took off the suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair and you could see his veins and muscles bulging and shifting in his arms as he moved. He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and wow he had nice fingers. You really had to get a grip on yourself––

“How was class today for you? Well, besides that one disappointing comment.”

You smiled, “I always enjoy the class, but yeah that was uh, disappointing as you said.

“I think your interpretations are always very insightful and very interesting. It’s almost a shame that you don’t share them with the whole class but part of me likes it that we keep them between us.” Oh? “Plus, I know how scary it can be talking in front of all those people. I almost shit myself first time I taught that class––”

You let out a surprised laughter and he couldn’t help laugh as well. 

“Shit, sorry! I mean––” He sighed, “Language, sorry. I’m British.” He shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay. Personally I think curse words spice up conversations.” You smiled proudly when he laughed at your joke. 

His smile radiated a more nervous energy after his laughter died off. “When you ran off yesterday, that wasn’t––was that because of me? Because if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, trying to think of a way to explain. “No it wasn’t, well––it kind of was?” You had no idea why you would tell him this, but apparently your mouth was moving without agreeing with your mind first. 

There was almost a pout on his face and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and smooth it out with your lips. “It’s just, well––You make me just a little bit nervous, to be honest professor.” You looked down at your lap and back up at him timidly.

He raised his brows, “Oh––”

Your smile was strained and you wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the floor. 

“Well that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He looked at you almost, hopefully?

You laughed, “No trust me, it’s not.” Your eyes widened at the realization of what you’d basically just admitted to him and you didn’t know if you should feel embarrassed or relieved when the smirk appeared on his face.

But the words that he uttered next cleared that up for you. “Well, if I’m honest, you make me nervous too, darling. And definitely not in a bad way.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, almost teasing you with how good he looked.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, crossing your legs, your thighs squeezing together, and he definitely noticed, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked his lips as well. 

The tension in the room was so thick but you found that you didn’t want to escape it, if anything you wanted to carve your way through it, stay for as long as you could until it snapped. 

Your professor spread his legs, his hands coming down to rub at his thighs as he watched you and the sound of your heartbeat pounding filled your ears. It was almost as if there was an unseen force pulling the two of you together, but before it could there was a knock at the door. 

The both of your heads snapped to the door to find it opening slowly. Jacob, Tom’s teaching assistant popped his head in. You had talked to him a few times, he was always very nice. He didn’t attend every class, but you guessed that he would be attending the next one. “Hey man.” He turned to you and smiled, “Oh hi Y/N.” You waved and let out a small hi in response. He turned back to the professor. “Your next class is starting like––” He looked at his watch. “Now.” 

“Shit, sorry man. Lost track of time.” He got up and you did too, smiling sheepishly as you grabbed your things, getting up from your seat. “I’ll be right there.” Jacob nodded and closed the door.

You both made your way over to the exit slowly, still reeling from what maybe could have happened and what you both obviously thought of. The silence was loud around you, but it wasn’t scary this time. 

“Let me know if you need any help with the upcoming assignment, alright? Don’t be afraid to stop by if you need to.” His gaze dropped down to your lips for a split second before reaching your eyes again. “For anything.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t describe but quickly tried to mask it with a smile as he opened the door for you, his eyes practically holding yours captive. 

“Thank you, professor. I will.” 

You stepped out and he watched you for a few moments before closing the door. You looked back, smiling as you caught his eye and as soon as he stepped back in the office, you practically ran out of the building and to your dorm, a stupid grin on your face. 

“Holy shit.”

❊❊❊❊

When you practically burst into your dorm room, scaring Liz half to death before you told her what happened, let’s just say she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“I fucking told you!” She flopped onto her bed, still staring at you pointedly as she did so, a smirk on her face. She pointed at you before dropping her hand down dramatically by her side. “You like, owe me a soda now or something.” 

You rolled your eyes but you were so giddy the smile still hadn’t dropped from your face. “Well I do owe you for getting me lunch yesterday, so maybe I will buy you one.”

❊❊❊❊

Over the weekend, you started working on the essay for British Literature and you were already about halfway done since the topic you chose actually interested you. But you found yourself questioning if you were writing it properly as you went on. You weren’t sure if it was because you wanted it to be near perfect since you’d found out he paid extra attention to you, or maybe you just wanted to talk to him again––you’d never know. 

After discussing with Liz, you decided you’d stop by his office on Monday afternoon once you were done with your classes. You knew he liked to stay in his office until late at night sometimes, he always said we could stop by whenever, if we needed something. So you decided to take advantage of that, shoving down your anxious thoughts and doing what you wanted. 

Liz may or may not have convinced you to wear a shirt that was––aesthetically pleasing, to put it, specifically in the chest area so you were more than eager to see your professor’s reaction. You were a little nervous, you didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard, but you thought you looked good in this shirt, and you had a right to feel good about yourself. Since it was a little chilly outside, you hid it under a sweatshirt for now.

You got to his office and found yourself staring at the dark wood, hesitating to knock on. After taking a deep breath you rapped your knuckles against the door. 

You heard a faint Come in! And you took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to find him sitting at his desk, “Hi Professor Holland.” He was finishing some notes on a student’s essay but his head snapped up immediately at the sound of your voice.

He dropped his pen and sat up, “Please,” he motioned to the seat across from his desk and you smiled gratefully before settling down. “What can I do for you? Everything alright?”

His eyes looked sincere and concerned and you could feel your insides melting a little bit. 

“I just––I really want to do well on this essay,” He nodded for you to continue, “But I’m just not sure if I’m going in the right direction.”

 He nodded understandingly, “Well let’s have a look, shall we?”

You reached down to grab your things when he stood up and walked past you, your eyes following him in confusion. He gestured to the couch, a somewhat impish smile on his face. “Just thought it would be more comfortable––and easier for us to look together, of course.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you picked up your bag and sat next to him on the couch. “Right, of course.” It was a loveseat so there wasn’t much room for either of you to distance yourselves.

You got out your computer and opened up the essay. You had already opened it before you got there, not wanting to have to awkwardly wait for it to load. Yes, you overthought things but––it helped sometimes. “I see you came prepared,” he joked and you couldn’t help but smile. He really did notice everything, didn’t he.

“Well I’m really confident about the topic of my essay, I think it’s interesting. But I feel like I may be adding too much into the paper, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking things or if I should take some things out.” 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I meant it when I said I appreciate having you in my class, you know. I always love reading your work. You write well.” 

“Thank you, professor.” Though you saw his eyes darken at the title, he commented on it.

“You can call me Tom when we’re alone, darling. No need for formalities.”

“But I like calling you professor––” Your hand shot up to cover your mouth and you spoke before he could, ignoring his smile, “I mean um. Tom––Okay I can try that.”

His tongue passed under his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “No you know, now I think professor is growing on me.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Prof––Tom.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright.” 

“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s easier to see where you can improve when you hear it out loud.”

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head as you brought your laptop closer to you. “O––Okay.”

You started reading your paper out loud, voice becoming slightly steadier as you went on, two fingers scrolling up the trackpad. He made comments as you read, only praise––and with each compliment you felt yourself getting hotter. Very good. Always write so well. Nice point there. Mhm. Good girl, that’s an excellent point. He shifted his way closer to you gradually as you read on and when his thigh touched yours, you had to tell yourself not to jump from the contact.  

He placed his arm on the back of the couch, basically around your shoulder and you had to smush down the urge to throw your computer and climb into his lap. His thighs did look very inviting with the way he was sitting, though. 

He moved closer to you and you could feel his breath cascading down over your shoulder as he brought his hand to the trackpad, his arm over your thigh, fingers scrolling through to where he had a few suggestions. 

When he finished his few remarks, you could hear the proud smile in his voice. “See, I knew it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. You’re a good writer...” He paused and you turned your head slightly to find his lips mere inches from yours, his eyes trained on your mouth. His words were barely a whisper when he spoke up again, “A good student.” You both leaned in slowly and his hand came up to hold your cheek lightly. “Bet you’d be a good girl for me too.” 

You gasped lightly and leaned forward, giving in and finally pressing your lips to his, both your hands grabbing his jaw. He moaned immediately, his body pressing into yours as you twisted to face him, his other hand coming around your waist to pull you in. You felt your laptop slipping off your thighs and squeaked, making the both of you laugh and pull away, flustered. 

“Careful, love.” Tom grabbed the computer and put it down on the floor gently, confirming that you saved your work before pushing the lid closed. 

The air in the room was hot, thanks to Tom in general, but also thanks to what you just did. So you pulled away and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Tom’s pout when he thought you were getting up to leave. Since there wasn’t much space on the couch, you stood up to take your hoodie off and you heard his breath hitch when his eyes fell upon the shirt you were wearing. “Christ-”

“Now what’s this?” Tom said almost to himself, his eyes staring at you in wonder and awe. “Never seen this little number before.” He noticed the clothes you wore? His hands were already aching to feel you again, reaching out for you subconsciously and you bit your lip to calm your smile as you sat back down, letting your sweater fall to the floor softly. 

“What, this old thing?” You joked, looking down at the shirt––yeah, you looked good. “You like it?” You looked up at him, a cheekily innocent look in your eyes.

He put his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap, enjoying the gasp it elicited from you. You put your hands gingerly on his shoulders and the way he was looking up at you made you never want to leave this position ever again. You tilted your head and licked your lips and Tom couldn’t take it anymore, he kissed you again, hands gripping you firmly, anchoring you to him. He pulled away after a good while, wanting to look at you again, his lips parted, practically panting like an animal. You really had an effect on him, but he did the same to you. 

His eyes were taking you in, basically capturing a mental image for later. “God, you look heavenly, darling.” You squirmed in his lap and bit your lip when you felt a bulge growing underneath you. He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses on the tops of your breasts, leaving a few teasing nips and sucks here and there. You squealed, your hands coming up to run your fingers through his hair. You pulled his head up by his hair and the look in his eyes looked absolutely feral––like he wanted to eat you. 

You were about to lean in and kiss him again when a knock at the door surprised the both of you. You both jumped off of the couch as Tom threw out excuses. “Yeah just a second!” You straightened out your shirt as Tom did the same to his pants and you picked up your things. 

When he saw that you were settled, he took a deep breath and answered the door. His colleague and best friend Professor Osterfield, was standing there, a grin on his face. “You div, are you ever going to be on time for our monthly meetings?––” He stood up straight when he noticed you standing behind Tom. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” He looked between the two of you and it seemed as though he pieced everything together. Maybe Tom had told him about you? If he did, you wouldn’t be worried Tom didn’t seem like the type to tell unreliable people his business––and they were best friends after all.

You smiled at him in acknowledgement as moved aside to let you pass. “Sorry,” you looked between the both of them, “I’ll let you get to whatever you have to go to.” You looked at Tom once you were out of his office, “Thank you for the feedback, professor.”

You could see him fighting off his smirk before he replied, “Of course.” His stare was impenetrable as he looked at you, “Feel free to come by whenever.” You could see the hidden meaning in his words and let the hint of a smile show, before nodding and walking off.

Harrison looked at him, a pitiful smile on his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mate. You should be careful, for the both of you.”

Tom sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “I know, man. Let’s go.” 

❊❊❊❊

You found yourself missing Tom as soon as you left. God, this was kind of pathetic. But at least your feelings weren’t necessarily one sided––he did say you made him nervous too after all. You doubt he’d say that if he just wanted to fuck you––he was better than most men. And sure you might be a little biased, but at the end of the day he had a good heart and he was educated. So bonus. 

When you stepped into your dorm, your roommate was sitting on her bed, snacks in hand as she looked at you expectantly. “Now these,” she gestured to the food on her bed, “are either for a story time, to rebuild your energy or both.” 

You laughed and changed into your pajamas, starting to tell your best friend about everything that just happened. She often interrupted with her reactions and comments.

Oh. My. God.

Shut. Up.

You’re fucking lying! 

“But we didn’t fuck.”

“Boo––”

“Yes, boo.” You laughed, “Professor Osterfield knocked at the door and dragged him off to a meeting so.” You shrugged.

“Professor Osterfield...is that the hot blond one?” You nodded and she continued expressing her feelings for the man. “I’d let him teach me a few things––”

“Literally bye.”

She laughed, “What? Come on have you seen him––”

“I’m a little preoccupied with another professor to be honest.”

She nodded, handing you a bag of chips as you settled in your bed. “True. And oh how lucky you are.” You smiled in agreement. 

❊❊❊❊

Today was the day the essay was due and though you normally handed it in at the beginning of class, for once, you didn’t and you could feel Tom’s gaze following you as you walked up the steps to your seat without so much as a glance in his direction. You’d stopped by his office a few times over the past two weeks since Harrison interrupted you, but you never did anything more than kissing and grinding. You were both too scared of getting caught, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t thought about doing more in there.  

Tom liked to have physical copies of the essays, just in case technology decides it’s against him (his words), so everyone had until 8pm tonight to drop it off by his office. You were definitely going to use that to your advantage. 

You didn’t wear anything provocative to class, you didn’t really want that kind of attention today, plus you knew that Tom’s interest in you wasn’t solely based on your appearance. So you put the revealing items on under your clothing. And honestly, the thought that no one knew what you were wearing underneath it all only excited you even further. 

You crossed your legs, relieving your tension and biting your lip as class went on, enjoying how flustered Tom would be every time he looked at you. You felt so submissive when you were alone with him, but when you were in public like this? Free to tease him subtly from a distance? That’s where you had all the power. 

You had him blushing and stuttering throughout the whole class, though it wouldn’t have been easy for everyone else to notice, for you it was so obvious. He kept rubbing his hands together, pacing around as his eyes darted to you every few minutes. At one point he went over to sit down at his desk, which he rarely did while teaching––and you were fairly certain it was to hide a bulge in his pants. All thanks to you. 

In the middle of the class, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and pulled it out just to see if it was an emergency. You were pleasantly surprised and could feel your whole body react when you noticed who the message was from.

Tom: Having fun, are you?

Your eyes shot up to the front of the room and you bit your lip to contain your smile when you noticed him glaring at you.

Y/N: I always have fun in this class, professor ;)

You put your phone away afterwards and focused on the class, knowing it was killing Tom that you weren’t giving him more attention. Your heart was racing and your panties had a wet patch by the time class was over. You had a feeling he was going to try to keep you after class, so you hurried up and gathered your things, sighing in relief when a few students went up to his desk to talk to him. 

You smirked to yourself and headed straight for the door, your head high on your shoulders. But just as you were about two feet from the exit, Tom spoke up. 

“I assume I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned around, eyes slightly widening as you noticed him, the group of students near him.

He smirked slyly, “To turn in your paper, remember?” His eyes were giving you a knowing look.

You swallowed, nodding as you smiled at him innocently. “Of course, professor.” You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened only slightly, only noticeable to you. “See you then.” With that you walked out.

❊❊❊❊

You practically skipped to his office at around 7:45, before knocking at the door, four knocks in a specific pattern––the code you’d made together. 

“Come in, darling!”

You walked in and quickly shut the door, a chuckle escaping you. “You know someone could hear you from the outside one day, right?”

He shrugged, “I’ll just blame it on my accent. Could call everyone darling, they don’t know any better.”

You laughed. “Okay well––Professor Holland,” you said, loving the way he looked at you when you uttered his title. “I brought this for you.” You took out the printed essay and placed it on his desk.

He pushed his chair out, his eyes following your every move as he spread his legs. “Oh is that right?” 

You took the invitation and took your reserved seat in his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you looked down at him. “Mhm, still want a good grade in this class you know. You are my favorite professor after all.”

He smirked smugly, licking his lips. “And you,” he kissed your lips before pulling away briefly, “Are my favorite girl.” He brought his hands up your back and pulled you into him as he kissed you again. This time, longer and deeper, wanting to feel you as much as possible. “Teased me so much in class today.” You smiled into the kiss and he continued, “Almost wanted to take you over my knee right there in front of everyone.” 

You moaned audibly and he brought his hand up to your neck, gripping you softly but firmly, giving you room to pull away if you didn’t approve. When you leaned further into his grip, he grinned and pulled you closer. You started grinding down on him, basking in the desperate groans and sighs you were coaxing out of him, the way his movements became more frantic as he bucked into you. 

After debating with yourself in your head for a moment––struggling to think properly with his hands all over you, you got off of his lap and smiled at the small whines of protest he let out before reaching for his belt. You made eye contact with him and noticed how wide his eyes were, hopeful, hungry, but hesitant. 

His hands reached for yours, “You don’t have to, darling. If anything I should be doing this first. God knows I’ve thought about it.”

You pouted, trying your best to ignore his words and focus on the task at hand. “But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “I wanna make you feel good, professor.” He nodded, barely able to speak.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?” 

You nodded eagerly, licking your lips as he pulled himself out of his trousers. “More than anything. Wanna make up for earlier.” You got down on your knees, mouth practically salivating at the way his member stood tall against his abdomen, his tip leaking with precum. 

Your hand wrapped around him just as a knock sounded at the door. Professor?

The both of your eyes widened, the both of you looking around for some sort of answer before he ushered you under the desk, tucking himself back in hastily, pulling his chair as much as he could and sitting at the edge, hiding his unbuttoned and unbuckled pants. Luckily for the both of you, the back of the desk reached the floor, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you hiding underneath. “Uh––Come in!”

The person walked in and you recognized the sound of her voice, she often spoke up in the lectures. You couldn’t remember her name, though. You do, however, remember that she often spoke up only to get Tom’s attention. You’d heard her gush about him in the halls just outside his class in the hopes of him hearing her. You couldn’t blame her, but the thought still irked you. “I just wanted to give you my paper. I hope it’s not too late.” 

Tom checked the time on his watch, 7:58. “Nope,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to compose himself, “Not too late at all, in fact just in time.” 

She handed her paper to Tom and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying his best not to think about the fact that your hands were trailing up his thighs and that he could feel your warm breath hitting the exposed part of his member––he really hadn’t payed attention when he tucked himself back in. 

Before he could send the girl who’s name you still hadn’t remembered off, she took a seat across from him and he swallowed nervously, a little frustrated since he was so close to getting his cock in his girl’s mouth. 

It seemed that you somehow read his thoughts because as soon as the girl kept talking for another two minutes, you pulled his member out and stroked him, licking up his shaft and he tensed, taking every ounce of self control he had not to look down at you. His hand reached down and held your cheek gently, just wanting to feel you. You nuzzled into his palm and he had to bite his lip to suppress his smile, not wanting the student across from him to think his endearing expression was meant for her. 

You honestly completely tuned out all the words she was saying, your sole focus pleasuring Tom. But you didn’t miss the flirty and falsely innocent tone in her voice. You couldn’t see her but she was no doubt batting her eyelashes at him as well. 

When she made a comment about how good his shirt looked on him, you couldn’t help yourself, you sucked his tip into your mouth with no warning, making him groan unexpectedly. You paused, eyes wide and playful as your mouth stayed around him.

“Are you okay professor?” 

He let out a strained smile, “Yes, Emma, Sorry––” So her name was Emma. “I just uh banged my knee on the desk.”

She hummed a small okay and went on.

He caught your eye, trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but boy was it hard. Especially when you were looking up at him like that, with his cock in your mouth. You licked around his tip and lowered your mouth around him and he had to force himself to focus on the girl who was still talking to him.

You were not playing fair but quite frankly you didn’t care. You were making him feel good and yourself too. Your hand was pumping him, your tongue swirling around him as quietly as you could, while your other hand found its place between your thighs. 

In the middle of Emma’s speech, Tom’s eyes drifted down and widened, his breath getting caught in his throat when he noticed your other hand, moving between your legs. He stuttered out an excuse, unable to tear his eyes away from you for a moment, “Uh, Emma I’m so sorry––I just have so much work to do, but feel free to come back––” he paused to swallow when you sucked harder around him in reaction to his invitation. “Come back next week if you have any problems or anything else you’d like to discuss.”

She hesitantly but respectfully said goodbye and was on her way, closing the door behind her.

Tom’s hands immediately shot down to hold your head, his mouth dropped open as he watched you, approaching his high. “Shit, that’s it darling that’s it. So fucking good for me.”

“I’m gonna cum––” he warned. You simply hummed around him and sped up your movements, feeling yourself clench as he panted, his hips bucking slightly as he came into your mouth. You unfortunately weren’t able to cum but you were sure there’d be other chances. You popped off of him and swallowed his load before licking up his length teasingly slow. “Fuck, such a good girl.”

He pulled his chair out and brought you up to stand between his legs, tiling his head to look up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs absentmindedly. “Was someone a little jealous?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing to fix your annoyed facial expression. “Maybe.”

He tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, chuckling as he squeezed your cheek. “I’m yours.” He pecked your lips, before looking in your eyes, “And I’m most definitely repaying the favor when we get home. I mean––if you want to, of course.” Home. 

You couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah––Okay.” 

You’d never been to Tom’s house before so this felt like sort of a big deal to you, but you were going to try and calm your racing thoughts and heart. You and Tom agreed that you would go around the corner of the building for him to pick you up in his car, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you.

As soon as you were settled in, seatbelt on, Tom drove off and honestly the thrill of having to hide was exciting to the both of you. His hand was gripping your thigh throughout the whole drive and you could tell it was meant as a reminder that he was there for you, but also that he could barely contain himself. 

Seeing Tom drive you, the flashing street lights illuminating his face, highlighting his jawline, his hand gripping your thigh––this was a sight you knew you wanted to see more. The intimacy of it all made you warm inside and the feeling of Tom’s fingertips digging into your skin only riled you up further.

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and he smiled at the feeling of your soft lips drifting over his skin. “Darling––” His words were cut off by a harsh moan when you trailed your lips down to his sweet spot, the noise almost too loud for the quiet, tense air in the car.

You teased, licked and bit at his skin, not afraid to leave marks. It was Friday now, if anyone saw them on Monday, they would just assume he’d had an eventful weekend. Honestly, the thought that no one would know that you were the one who left those marks excited you––it would be a secret between you and Tom, a thing for the two of you to share on your own.

Tom’s hands were now gripping the wheel and your thigh with force, trying to get his bearings. “You’re being very naughty today, love. Can’t say that I don’t love it though.”

You smiled sinfully into his neck, continuing your actions. Your hand slid over his thigh teasingly slow to rest on his bulge, fingers squeezing ever so softly and he practically jolted in his seat. “Christ––love unless you want me to crash this car I suggest you stop.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how much you’d riled him up. He almost whined at the loss of contact, subconsciously upset that you’d actually stopped. But as your hand reached back down to find its place between your thighs, his tone shifted. 

“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine. That’s my job.”

You actually felt a shiver pass through your body and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his dominant voice, excited for what was to come.

When you made it to his apartment, you barely had time to take in the scenery and take off your shoes and jackets before he dragged you to his room. But from what you saw, the decor was simple but elegant, much like Tom. His bedroom was the same, but again, you weren’t too focused on it.

He turned on the dim light in his room, wanting to be able to see you as he pleased you. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your waist, looking deep into your eyes. “You still want this?” 

You nodded absolutely certain. “Want you to take me.”

His pupils dilated and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, licking his lips, eyes widening when he noticed what you were wearing and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Christ, were you wearing this all day?” 

You nodded again. “The underwear’s matching too. Wanna see?”

He got down on his knees, a teasing but desperate tone to his voice. “You’re a smart girl, don’t ask stupid questions.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your socks, mouth dropping open as he got to see the full set. 

You ran your hands up and down your body teasingly as he stood up. “Do you like it?”

He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, “Again with the silly questions, love.” He leaned in to kiss you, pulling away to take off his clothes. “You look like a goddess, darling.” You could feel your skin heating up from his words and his stare. He pulled you in for another kiss before bringing you onto the bed.

You lied down in the middle and spread your legs, waiting for him eagerly as he lied down between them. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you, love.” 

He pulled your panties over to the side and licked into you, his tongue softly swiping through your folds. His eyes rolled back as he moaned into you, “Taste just as perfect as you look.” He slid his hands around your thighs and pulled you in closer, smiling at the small squeak you let out.

His tongue was exploring you, finding all the spots and all the tricks that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He was keeping this all to memory, memorizing the way you feel, the way you look. When your breaths quickened and your fingers tugged at his curls, he locked his arm around your stomach, slid one, then two fingers inside of you and sped up his movements, moving his head from side to side as he hummed onto your clit. 

Your body tensed and you held onto him for dear life as the knot in your stomach gave out, the pleasure spreading all throughout your body. Your mouth dropped open in ecstasy, your neck craning back and Tom couldn’t look away from you. You looked like a painting and he wanted to commit it to memory. 

He let go of you and kissed his way up your body, soothing you with his lips. Your legs were still twitching slightly, your stomach clenching and unclenching when his kisses reached your cheek. “Look so pretty when you come for me.” He kissed along your jaw, “Can’t believe you’ve deprived me of such a beautiful sight for so long.” He kissed your lips and tugged your bottom one between his teeth, before looking at you, eyes wide, “You gonna give me the privilege of seeing it again?” 

You smiled, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks. “You can see it whenever you want. As long as you’re the one making it happen.” You pulled him to you and kissed him, the both of you moaning into the small gaps between your mouths. 

He started to pull away but you whined and pulled him back making him smile. “I’ve gotta get a condom, love.”

He tried to get up again but you pulled him back down, “M’on the pill Tommy.” You looked up at him, pouting and he almost gasped––the effect you had on him was insane. “Just fuck me please.”

He didn’t need anymore convincing, grabbing a hold of his cock and swiping it through your folds, groaning out loud at how good your wetness felt. You bucked your hips and realizing you were getting desperate, he finally slid into you and all your senses immediately tuned into him. 

Just like your dream––All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. 

His eyes were watching your face, taking you in as he thrusted into you, making sure you were enjoying everything he was giving you. You felt absolutely amazing and so did he. “So perfect for me, darling. That’s it.” He bit his lip and sped up, making your jaw drop as you stared into his eyes, completely open and vulnerable to him. His touch was tantalizing, even better than your fantasies which only meant you’d become more addicted to him and what he could do to you.

He grunted, angling his hips when he found your spot, hitting it over and over, bringing his hand down to play with your clit. “Told you I wanted to see you cum again, pretty girl. So you’re gonna cum then I’m gonna fill you up. That sound okay?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes watching his every move as your hands gripped his arms, your thighs burning invitingly as they stretched around him with every thrust. Then you uttered that one word that always had him almost inappropriately weak for you. “Want to be full of you, professor.”

His jaw slacked and he paused for a slight moment before picking up his pace, faster than before, hips chasing after both your highs, fingers still rubbing you just the way he learned, just the way you liked. “Fuck-–”

A few more thrusts and flicks of his wrist and you were tensing under him, your pussy clenching around him as he let out broken curses and moans, losing his rhythm and releasing into you with a groan. 

He rested some of his weight on you for a moment, the both of you smiling and laughing breathlessly as you took in the moment. Your hands came up to play with his curls and he sighed, leaning into your touch. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and left a few soft kisses, coaxing some sighs from you as well.  

After a moment, he rolled over and took you with him, making you nuzzle further into him, his arm wrapped around you, your leg slung over his waist. His hand was rubbing up to your ass and down to your thigh, lulling you to sleep while simultaneously riling you up again. 

He kissed your forehead and you kissed his chest in response. “That was fucking amazing, love.”

You nodded and hummed in agreement, “Even better than my dreams.”

He pulled back to look at you, you could hear his heartbeat quicken and you tried to hide your face in his chest. “You had dreams about this too?”

That made you lift your head up to look at him. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t joking but you were still slightly shocked. “Too?”

He smiled, licking his lips, “Well maybe we should discuss them, and try them out for ourselves.” His hand found its way between your legs again, making you moan but that didn’t stop you from responding.

You nodded, “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned, “See, I knew I taught you well.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, “My girl’s the perfect student.” 

You spent hours exploring each other's bodies as you reenacted your dreams, both exceeding each other's expectations every time. By the time you fell asleep in each other's arms, it was late at night and you were sweaty, and tired, but overwhelmingly pleased.

❊❊❊❊

The next Friday, it was halloween. Liz had somehow convinced you to go to a halloween party with her. On top of that it was a frat party. And even worse, you dressed up as a school girl because it was all last minute and you didn’t have any time to get a costume. 

“Oh come on Y/N, you look hot!”

You turned in the full length mirror to look at your ass that was almost visible in this mini skirt. “You think so?”

“Duh.”

And that’s all the convincing you needed to go out. You needed a little college fun. You hadn’t been to a party in who knows how long because you were always focusing on your work. You deserved this. Also Liz said it was a celebration of your “lay”, yes, she said lay. 

“I’m just saying you cannot let me get with him again.”

“Liz it’s literally his frat house that we’re going to and we both know you have little to no self control.”

“Well damn. You couldn’t have sugar coated it?”

“What, you want me to throw a packet of splenda on you?” You joked.

She shoved you, “Dude shut up,” she laughed.

You looked down at your bare thighs that were only partly covered by your thigh high socks and rubbed your arms, regretting not bringing a jacket when Liz spoke up again. “Oh shit, is that Professor Holland?”

Your eyes shot up and made direct eye contact with him. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweats but he still looked great as usual. His eyes trailed down your body and soon your shivers were no longer because of the cold. 

“I’ll just wait here.” Liz said suggestively and you walked over to Tom. 

“H–Hi.”

He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, he didn’t know who was around. “Well hello to you too.” He looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face. You rubbed your arms quickly for warmth, and Tom had to control himself to not look at your chest, even though he could see your nipples hardening from the weather through your shirt. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and take you home. 

“Any plans?” You asked.

“No, I'm just about to go home. I’m uh guessing you have somewhere to be?” His eyes traced your figure again.

“Yeah um me and Liz are going to a frat party.” You pointed back to your friend and gave him a small smile and shrug. “She convinced me.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad but he had to restrain himself.

“Be safe tonight, yeah?” His eyes were comforting, as they always were, but this felt almost more personal? Almost like he didn’t want you to go. And honestly, after seeing him, you almost didn’t want to either. You never defined your relationship with him, so honestly right now he was like a friend with benefits––professor with benefits, if you will. 

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “O––Okay. I will. You be safe too!”

His eyes followed you as you walked off, your friend pulling you along, obviously whispering to you, probably about him. You looked so fucking good and everyone else was going to see that too. It’s not like he owned you or anything, but part of him really wished he could claim you, openly care for you and be affectionate. His thoughts were a mix of wholesome and raunchy and he had no idea how to act.

He almost felt wrong but he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his mind, the way you looked up at him sheepishly, the innocent look in your eyes while you were wearing that mini skirt. His cock was bulging in his boxers ever since he first laid eyes on you. When he got home, he made his way to his bed, undressing almost immediately. Lying down in the middle of the bed, just where you were days before brought a flood of memories into his mind, only making his member throb even more. He tugged at his cock, spitting in his hand to make it slick.

Images of you were flashing in his mind as he sped up his movements, desperate for a release. 

He was dying to get a taste of you again. The memory of the way you felt under his fingertips, the way your muscles clenched when he hit the right spots. The way you tasted when you were dripping onto his tongue. The way you looked at him when you came, your lips parted to release broken moans and whimpers. The way your fingers gripped his curls as your body tensed. It was all enough to make him spill over his hand, his breaths coming out in quick pants as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

“Fuck.” He really had it bad for you. 

❊❊❊❊

Tom had texted you during class on Tuesday to meet him in his office when you were done with classes for the day. When you stepped into the room, he locked the door immediately, bringing you over to his desk, his lips chasing yours. Screw worrying about people hearing you, he wanted you. Now. 

“God, just seeing you in that tight little costume––you have no idea how badly I wanted to ravish you. The thought of all those dumb frat boys seeing you in all your glory like that––I was absolutely beside myself.” So that’s what this was about. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his eyes fiercely staring into yours and you nuzzled into his touch, your hand holding his wrist softly and his eyes softened at the sight of you.

“I’m gonna absolutely devour you.” You gasped and he smiled, pulling your pants along with panties down. He sat you down on his desk and got down on his knees, licking his lips. “As soon as I got a taste of you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go without it ever again.” He kissed your thigh, looking up at you. “You gonna let me have a taste again? Wanna make you feel good, lovie.”

You nodded, swallowing roughly, “Y––Yeah. Yes please.”

He chuckled breathlessly, “Such a polite little thing you are.” He kissed his way from your inner thigh to your center before licking a torturously slow stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a sigh and gripped the desk, your fingertips becoming lighter at how hard you were already holding it.

His hands held your thighs open, putting them over his shoulders, holding you in place. His tongue was languidly licking you up and down, savoring your taste and your moans, coaxing them out of you one by one, nonstop. He looked up at you and your breath got caught in your throat, the look in his eyes fierce, almost as if he could see your bare soul and he clearly liked what he saw. He brought his lips to close around your heat after every other swipe of his tongue, passionately kissing your heat. 

“So fucking good, angel. Always the best for me.”

You nodded, licking your lips, one of your hands coming to grab at his curls, making him growl into you. “Only for you, Tommy.”

He didn’t stop his tongue or his lips until you came, your back arching, fingers frantically grabbing for whatever you could hold, lip trapped between your teeth to muffle the moans that so desperately wanted to escape into the quiet air of the room. He kept going until you had to pull his head away from you, overwhelmed by all the pleasure and scared that you would scream and alert everyone in the building about what you were up to.

His hands were caressing your thighs, eyes looking at you in awe, almost too innocently for what you’d just done. He stood up between your legs and leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. 

He pulled away to look at you, hands holding your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. You brought your arms up to link around his neck, looking up at him appreciatively and absolutely spent. “So do you think I should wear school girl outfits more often?”

He laughed, his hands holding you tighter, “If you do, my head is never leaving between your thighs.”

You smiled cheekily, batting your lashes at him. “Promise?”

He’d never gotten down on his knees quicker in his life. Let’s just say it took you another hour before you left his office.

 ❊❊❊❊

Over the past few weeks it had become a routine for you to go over to Tom’s office to seemingly “work on your assignments and review,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to show up unannounced Friday afternoon. Without meaning to, though, it seemed you showed up a little too early, and ended up overhearing part of Tom and Harrison’s conversation. 

“I can tell Y/N means a lot to you, mate. Don’t lie.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you skidded just in front of the door, about to turn the corner inside. You backed up and stayed pressed to the wall. Luckily no one really stopped by this side of the building at this time on a Friday, so no one would find you snooping around in the middle of the hallway. 

“No I just––”

No. He said no––Okay you weren’t going to freak out. This always happens in the movies, and then the main character runs away before hearing the most important part and they overreact. So you decided to just...wait it out. 

So you waited and waited. And the more the silence overwhelmed you, the louder it got. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes because you really thought your feelings were mutual. But just as you inched your foot backwards to walk away, he spoke up again, his voice quiet. 

“She means everything to me, man. I––It scares me, honestly. I just don’t want to mess it up.” 

This time the tears fully formed in your eyes, but for the absolute opposite reason. You smiled and wiped at your eyes, not even bothering to hide anymore as you turned the corner, surprising Tom, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. Harrison turned around to see you and his gaze filled with concern as well. 

“Tom––” your voice was quiet but there was a smile on your face. 

“Darling––” He rushed over to you and grabbed your hands, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to catch the few tears that escaped. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

Your hands came up to hold his wrists as you looked into his eyes, “I heard you talking.” 

His face dropped in realization and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

Harrison cleared his throat and subtly made his way out, “You guys have some things to discuss.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you both smiled at each other appreciatively before he walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

Tom took your hands and brought you over to the couch. “I hope I didn’t scare you off, love.”

You shook your head immediately, even climbing in his lap to prove him wrong and he smiled gratefully. “No! It’s just that we never really talked, you know, about us.” He nodded and you took that as a sign to continue, enjoying the way his hands subconsciously slipped under your shirt to rub at your skin soothingly. “I like you Tom, obviously. But I like you a lot.” You linked your hands behind his neck. “I think I might be falling for you.”

His eyes started tearing up as well, as he smiled, “Yeah well, I think I’ve already fallen for you, darling.” 

You looked into his eyes and your smile brightened, “Okay maybe I lied––I’ve definitely already fallen for you as well.”

You both laughed lovingly, pulling each other in for a sweet kiss.“Look,” Tom started, licking his lips. “I don’t know what this means for our future, but all I know is I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon.” 

You kissed his lips softly, “Well I don’t plan on leaving any time soon either.” 

“Good.” He looked at you and you felt as though your soul was out and open for him to hold and love. “Cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

You could feel your eyes tearing up again. This felt good. This felt like home.

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[alltooreid]

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing. 

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None! 

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . .  Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”                    

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . .  Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup​ @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup​ @s1utformgg​ @averyhotchner​ @widow-cevans​ @rotinireid​

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Nature’s Nurturing Ways

Hi y’all! This pandemic has really taken the wind out of my sails these past few weeks (maybe months? Time is completely untraceable right now). This piece is born out of a lovely anon’s request, bolded below. As always, I haven’t proofread this mess, so please forgive the typos! I’ll do my best to correct them post-publishing. I seriously can’t thank you enough for taking the time to send me your ideas, and I promise I’ll get better at writing actual drabbles LOL. I hope you enjoy :) 

Hii can you write something abt Geralt being w a plant-based reader where she loves animals and nature? Tysm

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Geralt and Jaskier had been travelling for hours when the beating sun finally wore them down. There hadn’t been a breeze in days and the hot, stale air was starting to suffocate the uncharacteristically quiet bard, who wouldn’t dare compete with the surrounding cicada’s symphony.

“Geralt,” he rasped, “do you hear any running water? Drips or gurgles? I’ll take anything.”

“Jask, it hasn’t rained in days and it’s hotter than the depths of hell,” the Witcher sighed before continuing, “I said no yesterday, the answer is the same today.”

“Euughh!” Jaskier threw his head back in despair before hanging his head in exhaustion. “Geralt, I don’t want to be dramatic -,”

“Ha!” Geralt twisted in his saddle to look back at his friend with a quirked brow.

“- but I will fall off this horse and die of exposure if we don’t find water soon.”

Shaking his head, Geralt knew that despite the bard’s tendency to embellish, the situation was getting dire. They’d traveled this way dozens of times before and had always relied on the steady creek that ran alongside the trail for water. The region wasn’t known for dry spells and while Geralt was sure he could manage either way, his companion on the trail was not so durable.

They wouldn’t arrive at their destination for another three or four hours, at his level of dehydration and with probable heat exhaustion, Jaskier might not have that much time.

With another gruff sigh, Geralt pulled back on Roach’s reins and redirected her off the road and into the forest, turning back to ensure Jaskier’s horse would follow.

Geralt knew that there was a small clearing off the road where the thick leaves from the old trees made a lush, and shaded, canopy. He’d been there before a handful of times. It’s where he shared a tender first kiss, where he’d laid his head on Y/N’s chest before falling asleep feeling the cool, lush, grass cradling his large frame. It’s where he first said I love you.

Shaking his head slightly to pull himself from his memories, he dismounted and grabbed both sets of reins, leading the horses into farther the clearing. Once they’d reached the middle of the small field, Geralt released Roach’s lead and gave her a neck a scratch before leaving her to graze.

“Come on Jaskier,” he said, reaching into the gelding’s saddle bag for some food, “get off your horse and lay down in the grass.”

The bard fell out of his saddle with a thud while Geralt continue to root around the bag, huffing as he kept coming up empty.

“Did you eat the last of the cheese?”

“Mmpft,” Jaskier replied incoherently, face down in the grass.

“Hey –”

“Oi! You kicked me!”

“Where is the food? We had bread, cheese, and meat left over last night. Did you fucking eat it all?”

“No, you oaf,” he said, rolling over onto his back, “we ate the rest of it this morning.”

“Fuck!” Geralt cursed under his breath, pulling his hair up off his neck to cool off. He could barely remember what they’d done earlier that day. The heat had been unbearable all evening, and the rising sun only made it worse.  

“Don’t worry about it Geralt! No need to apologize for accusing me so harshly.” Jaskier said, words dripping in sarcasm.

Geralt merely looked down at the bard with disdain and rolled his eyes, refusing to admit the sun might be affecting him too.

“Shut up and take off your shirt –”

“Oh-ho!” he laughed weakly, wiggling his eye brows at the witcher. No matter how beaten and battered the bard may be, he’d never miss an opportunity to tease Geralt.

“No, Gods! Fuck,” Geralt went on, flustered, “the grass will cool you down a hell of a lot faster if you’re in direct contact. And besides, Y/N will kill me if I let you die of exposure.”

“Always so serious, eh Geralt?” Jaskier chided playfully, pulling off his tunic before laying back down onto the grass, “Oh-ho-ho-ohhhh yes… Sweet merciful goddess of all that is good, this feels amazing! Yes, yes, yes!”

While he was sure the bard was still mumbling gratefully, and disgustingly, at the feeling of the cool grass against his skin, Geralt’s mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in this clearing, wild heliotropes had bloomed and the sweet, almondine scent was pulling him into a memory.

“Geralt! Witchers use herbs, mushrooms, and flowers in all kinds of magic,” you said, your hands resting high on your hips, “I find it incredibly hard to believe that in all your years and extensive travels, you’d never learned to forage?”

“All my years, eh?” he’d replied, cat-like eyes gleaming back at you.

“Well of course,” you teased, “I mean, unless you mean to tell me that silver head of hair is a choice born out of vanity?”

“I’m going to make you pay for that later, Y/N.” He laughed, taken aback and a little impressed that you felt so comfortable with his mutations as to mock him playfully.

“Ha! Me and what coin?” you reply with a light laugh, bending over to collect the generous mushrooms growing through the bed of leaves and needles.

Geralt turned his head towards you to hit you with a winning comeback, but found himself lost for words when his eyes failed to meet yours.

You get up slowly, peering over your shoulder to find your witcher’s eyes on your backside. Smirking to yourself and quirking a brow flirtatiously, you toss a handful of dirt and wet leaves his way, hitting the poor soul right in the chest.

“Distracted, Geralt?” you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you straightened up.

Geralt swallowed thickly, desperately trying to string together at least a couple words – witty at best, coherent at least – when he heard a twig snap in the surrounding forest.

Quick as a flash, he drew his sword and his attention towards the source of the disturbance, a large boar. Chest already swelling with pride at the thought of providing you with a hearty meal, Geralt prepared his attack on the creature before him.

Seeing that the “threat” in question was nothing but a passing porcine, you dove before him with a shout, dropping the mushrooms on the way. Your scream coupled with your sudden movement startled the beast, and it dove deeper into the brush to escape.

“Geralt, no!”

“Damn it, Y/N,” he swore, “I could’ve had it! We could have had a decent meal! We – we would have been set for days!”

“No, Geralt! We have food, right here in this clearing. We needn’t take lives from the forest to eat.”

“Gods, Y/N,” he sighed, dropping his sword to the ground in frustration, “do I need to remind you of the cycle of life? Creatures live, they die, and they get eaten so others can live –”

“Yes, and by leaving that gentle giant to its ruminations, we’ve allowed it to go on, to feed its young, or hell! By leaving that boar to live, we might have secured a lifeline for a fellow wolf or fox. Geralt look around you; mushrooms, flowers, these thick leaves, those berries? You see that tree there? At its roots there are nuts, and over there? Those flowers? Means there is garlic. The forest will feed us with ease if we simply care to drop our weapons, and look.”

Geralt looked at you and with soft eyes, he took in the way your eyes burned with passion, the way your chest rose and fell with every energized breath. He looked around you and really looked at the plants around him, beyond scanning for any toxic or dangerous herbs, he did his best to see the forest through your bright eyes.

Looking at you he felt his chest swell once more, but this time the feeling was warm, grounding.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said quietly, pulling you into his arms, “so, so much.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You knew he loved you. You had known for months, but you’d made peace with the fact that he loved you however he could, and that that would have to be enough, even if it meant you wouldn’t hear him say it.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet dove,” you murmured, reaching up to lay a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you too.”

Geralt was wrenched from his thoughts by a swift kick to his shin, courtesy of the bard.

“Shhht!! Geralt!” Jaskier shout-whispered, still kicking at the witcher’s shins. “A deer! A d- dinner! Food! Geralt!”

Side-stepping out of the bard’s frantic little kicks, Geralt looked around him in a quick movement, spotting the deer with his hand primed above his sword’s hilt.

The world seemed to go quiet and still when his eyes met the doe’s. Despite himself, he could hear your voice in his head telling him that she’s a young, vibrant member of this forest’s population. That at her age, she’s likely a first-time mom or about to be. That she has more life to live and more to give to the land than be a poor man’s meal.

Jaskier watched in hungry-horror as Geralt waved his large hand at the creature, turning his back to it before looking down to meet his shell-shocked gaze.

“What the fuck, Geralt!” he spat, “what happened to “Y/N would kill me if I let Jaskier die”? What the fuck! That was food! Survival!”

“You’ll be fine Jask, shut up and lay in your grass.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat it.” He grumbled, not quietly enough.

A laugh rumbled through him as he walked towards to forest line, spotting thick dandelion leaves, mushrooms, and bushes ripe with nuts. He might not necessarily need to feed Jaskier the grass beneath his feet, but he was going to make him eat his words.

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“There you are my intrepid explorers!” You damn near squealed at the sight of them, dropping your basket of recently-purchased produce as you ran towards them.

At the sight of you, Geralt dismounts and runs to meet you in a tight embrace. You hold each other tightly, breathing in each other’s scent; his cedar, damp earth, and cut grass, and yours sweet almond.

You pull back just enough to look him over quickly and, spotting no fresh injury or new scars, pull your brows together curiously.

“Did you get lost?”

“Not at all,” replied Jaskier, clapping Geralt on the shoulder, “You’d be impressed, madam Y/N! Our dear witcher made quite the feast. Pulled me right out of the greedy jaws of death, he did!”

“Oh?” You said, brows furrowed in a silent question. Knowing what you meant, Geralt shook his head and kissed your temple to reassure you.

“Picture me this, Y/N,” Jaskier mused as he untacked his gelding, “I’m wilting away, inches from Death’s grip, and Geralt sweeps me under a lush canopy of trees and lays me in the grass…”

“Lays him in the grass? Should I be jealous?” you whispered.

“Never my love,” he replied softly, his forehead against yours.

“… then our honorable friend bid the deer a fond farewell, letting him get away! Yes, Y/N, there I lay, starving, thinking the sun must have cooked the sense right out of him when he marches out of sight only to emerge moments later with a bounty!”

“A bounty?” you mock-gasp, egging the bard on to Geralt’s great displeasure.

“Yes! We ate like kings in that forest, Y/N. All we did was eat but I felt hydrated and renewed! Truly a culinary delight.”

“A delight, Geralt!” you giggled, giving his waist a squeeze.

“Gods, won’t he ever shut up?” he grumbled, ghost of a blush creeping up his collar.

“Oh hush, my love,” you cooed, “without Jask’s bragging, I’d have never known what a big softy you’ve become.”

Wordlessly, Geralt looked down at you in mock-contempt, unsure that this wasn’t a veiled insult. He was instantly reassured though, when his eyes met yours.

“You left the deer.”

“I did.”

“And you foraged, found just what you needed.” You spoke softly, admiration and love rounding your features out beautifully.

“That’s right.”

“Now where did you pick up skills like that, my dove?” You chanced another tease, twirling a lock of his white, dust-packed hair around a finger before giving it a light tug, your head cocked to the side.

“Oh, I had an exceptional teacher…” he said, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist and bringing his other hand up to cup your face, pulling into a deep kiss.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hello! Im glad i made it on time for request! T^TI would like to request a chishiya x female reader. Where the female reader is strong and intelligent and chishiya just basically falls in love with her. He tries to get close with but apparently reader doesn't live in beach she lives in her own homemade house. So chishiya tries really hard to find her.

Of course, here you go! 🥰

Search | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya

Summary: Chishiya searches all through Tokyo to find you, who he met at a game and fell for instantly.

Warnings: swearing, somewhat creepy behaviour from Chishiya, violence

Word Count: 2.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: sorry I closed requests for so long! They’re open again now for a few days so please send in anything you want me to write! ❤

The dark streets of Tokyo echoed the sounds of the wind travelling through the trees. The silence that filled the atmosphere was deafening, leaving Chishiya to nothing but his wandering thoughts that pottered so carelessly through his head. The occasional cry of a crow kept him grounded, always bringing him back to the reality that was in front of him.

The young man was taking yet another attempt of finding the peculiar and alluring figure that he had encountered at many games. No one had ever taken his interest as much as this, and even if they had, he would’ve given up at finding them for the fact that they live in the huge empty wasteland that is Tokyo. Any nook and cranny could have the chance of being your home, but Chishiya was determined to find you. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway. But now that he’s taken interest in you, he finally has something to work towards rather than just waiting around to die at The Beach.

He strolled effortlessly through the Shibuya crossing, recognizing the place from when he was first thrown into the game, always returning to the large open area to use as a safe space. Even after being in the game for as long as he had, it still felt foreign to see not a single soul crossing the road, very unlike usual Tokyo.

The only source of light he had to assist him was a small torch he took from The Beach and the occasional game sign pointing to some late running games. He felt unsettled every time he entered an area where no light was available, and the silence didn’t help.

“Tch,” he scoffed to himself, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes to keep them from dropping from how tired he was. He had been at it for weeks, not even getting the slightest clue where you stayed in the huge city.

“This is ridiculous, as if I haven’t found her yet.” He was becoming more and more frustrated as each night dragged on. All he wanted was to meet you in person that wasn’t in the registration section of a game, where he wasn’t even sure either of you would leave alive.

After being saved by you during a hearts game, Chishiya developed an irrational attraction to your selfless and strong demeanour. He admired the fact that you managed to look after yourself and others at the same time, always thinking of an intelligent way to make sure that everyone survived. He was impressed and taken back, for he had never met or encountered anyone like you.

Chishiya strutted over to a large building near the Shibuya crossing that displayed a screen pointing towards a game. He had to sit down for a while, he had been walking for hours and his legs were beginning to hurt. He shivered and pulled his hoodie tighter around him as he walked through the entrance of the building to find that place nearly trashed all through. Obviously some people had attempted to search the building for resources to assist in their survival.

He slowly made his way further into the building, being mindful of the shards of glass and other debris that scattered the floor. The last thing he wanted was the trip of something and ended up with sharp glass shards in his back.

Chishiya entered a large room that almost seemed untouched. Much unlike the other rooms, this room was clean and no furniture was turned over. He frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to search this room.

“Huh, must have missed it,” he answered his own question. He walked to the centre of the room and sat on a small brown couch that was placed there, rather inconveniently. The layout of the room was very scattered and random resources such as water bottles and empty cans of beans and tuna were laying around on every surface.

The cans of food looked awfully too clean to have been left there for long. The leftover specs of food remaining appeared fresh, and the smell of tuna was far from smelling off. Chishiya moved his tired eyes around the room, trying to find any more evidence of someone being there recently. His eyes locked on a small pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, all bunched up together to create a comfy nest almost.

The pile seemed a bit too lumpy to be holding only blankets, so Chishiya’s curiosity got the better of him and he stood slowly to make his way over to the makeshift bed. He thought maybe someone was hiding some more food underneath it, probably planning to return some other time to collect them.

He kneeled down next to the pile, scanning the small space. His eyes widened as he saw the blanket move, slowly lifting up and down incredibly slightly. He almost stepped back in shock, but decided against it and lifted his hand slowly to lift the duvet.

He grasped the soft material and carefully pulled it back towards himself. His breath became caught in his throat when he locked eyes with what was underneath it.

There you laid, peacefully sleeping and tucked into yourself. Your legs were folded and against your torso with your arms lying lazily next to your head. You looked so vulnerable and small, especially since Chishiya just found you hiding from the world underneath a blanket. He assumed that you covered yourself so if someone was to find your hiding space, they wouldn’t see you and potentially hurt you.

Chishiya couldn’t help himself. After seeing you become so aggressive and resilient in games, seeing you so calm and at peace pulled at his heart strings. He knew it was wrong, intruding on you while you weren’t aware he was even there, but he knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

His heart hurt from the sight of you holding yourself in a tight ball, obviously being anxious that something would happen while you were asleep. He pouted and tilted his head, examining you closely.

“So pretty,” he whispered. But just as the words left his mouth, his stomach dropped when he saw your eyes snap open and lock directly onto him.

Before he could even think, you had swung a fist at his face, punching him square in the jaw, making him yell in pain as he backed away while squatting on his legs so he could get up and run if he had to. He held his face in his hands, trying to reduce the pain throbbing in his jaw.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, standing up out of your bundle of blankets. “Fucking creep! Piss off!”

Chishiya groaned and glanced up towards you, noticing that you were now standing over his meek body on the ground. You held a small knife in your hands, pointing the sharp object towards him in case he made any sudden movements.

Chishiya’s usual smug smirk crawled onto his face, making your frown more as he stood up slowly, hands held up in surrender. “Wow, feisty,” he chuckled.

Your angry expression softened and you lowered your weapon slightly as the bright moonlight shined through the window and painted across Chishiya’s face. You immediately recognized him as the young, white-haired man that always assisted you at games. But what was he doing here?

“What do you want?” you glowered, taking a few threatening steps towards him. Chishiya raised his eyebrows, but kept his composed behaviour as your weapon pressed lightly on his chest, making him wince slightly as the sharp point pierced his skin through his white shirt.

“Rude. I don’t even get a hello? A how are you? All I get is a knife in my face,” he smugly responded. “You did that to yourself by watching me sleep like a fucking stalker,” you hissed, leaning your face closer to his.

“I guess so,” he sneered. “By the way, I wouldn’t kill me if you were considering it. Trust me, I’m not on my own.”

You felt ridiculed by his calm behaviour, hating how he didn’t seem threatened by you at all. Out of all the people you’ve scared off, why did this skinny, short man have more nerve than anyone else?

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you reassured. You pulled back your knife slightly, but still kept it drawn in your hand in case he tried anything. You may have met him a few times in games, but trust was very hard to earn from anyone in the Borderlands.

“So, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve been searching for you for a while now. I’m glad I’ve finally found you.”

You scowled at his words. “Me? What could someone like you possibly want from me?” You watched as his pink lips curled up into a smirk, making you cringe slightly.

Chishiya turned away from you and strolled back over to the brown lounge in the middle of the room. He leaned comfortably on the back of it, facing you again. You had lowered your knife, feeling reassured now that he was further away.

“I’ve noticed you,” he started, staring holes into your eyes. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You know how to handle yourself in games, and I can’t help but become a little immersed in your methods.”

The way he spoke gave you a headache. He sounded too smart for his own good, making you question if he was bluffing just to trick you into believing that you were needed, when he would just use you then leave you in the dust.

“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chishiya looked down to the ground and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I would very much appreciate it if you joined me,” he suggested. “I am staying at a hotel called ‘The Beach’, but everyone there is an idiot. If you are willing to put your trust into me, I promise that I will help you collect all the cards and escape this place.”

You kept your gaze on him, trying to see any sign that he may be lying. If he was lying, he was incredibly good at it.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, fiddling with your knife.

“There is none. Only the fact that I’m asking you to join forces with hundreds of idiotic, drunks that act like children.”

There was a moment of silence before Chishiya continued.

“But I can reassure you, if you stick by me, I will be sure to keep you safe and alive.”

You rolled your eyes at his promise. “I don’t need your protection. Look at you, you’re skin and bones. I can take care of myself.” You turned back to your pile of blankets, lifting them to search for your radio that had become lost in the sheets during the night.

Chishiya thought to himself, trying to think of something to say that would convince you to come back with him to The Beach. He couldn’t downright say that he was in love with you, because it would probably scare you off. If he wanted to have a chance with you, he first had to gain your trust. But that was deemed difficult when he was the shady character that he is.

“There’s food and water at The Beach,” he spoke up, making you freeze in your movements and turn back towards him. “There’s comfy beds and personal rooms, as well as allies and guaranteed protection from militants. If you really want to survive, you’d be best there more than out here by yourself.”

You stared at him before glancing around the room, eyes landing on the scattered cans of food and random dirty clothes everywhere. You would admit, you were lonely, and hungry, and cold.

“What makes me sure I can trust you, Chishiya?” you challenged.

Chishiya stepped away from the sofa and walked over to you, making you stand up from your position on the ground so you were at eye level.

“Because you have no other choice,” he smugly stated, “You’re lucky enough for it to only be me to walk in here and find you. Just think about it, if I can find you, so can a group of murderous people, or starving people, or people desperate for cards.”

He had a good point. You hated that you were falling prey to his manipulation, but if The Beach was even slightly better than the dirt hole you were inhabiting, you were interested enough to at least take a look.

“Okay,” you mumbled, turning away from him and leaning down to pick up the small backpack that laid next to your bed. “I’ll come, but if I find out you’re lying or trying to have me killed, it’ll be your head hanging from a lamppost in Shibuya.”

Chishiya smiled at your threat, not being affected by your violent words. “That’s the kind of talk that will get you killed Y/N,” he warned, turning around and making his way towards the entrance of the building. “Keep that up, you might be the one losing a head.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his warning.

Chishiya smiled to himself as he stepped out into the cold night air. He could finally relax, knowing he found you and would now be able to keep you in his sight at all times. Even if he had to tell a few fibs to make you come with him, he believes it was worth it, as now he could stay by your side.

He knew it would be a work in progress to earn your trust eventually, but he would make sure that you always trusted him over anyone else.

[fandomvariousness]

pairing: armin x reader

warnings: implied violence, mild angst, smut: riding, creampie, mommy kink if you squint?

summary: armin's upset after eren's antics, so he finds solace in you

word count: 1.4k

a/n: can i just dedicate this to @junisfics cause she's the reason i came back to this blog and she's the sweetest person EVER <3 and i know this gurl is a f i r m believer in armin supremacy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) hope you like it juni!!

“Armin, Armin!” you breathed out as you stormed into his room, worried sick.

It was late evening already, but they didn’t let him go with all the interrogations and speculations – each hour felt like a day, forced to count every minute until you could finally see him.

Your heart broke when you saw him leaning against the window-sill, gazing into the gloom of the evening, his back facing you.

You exhaled curtly as some weight was pressing down on your chest and basically flew towards Armin, snaking your arms around his waist.

He said nothing, but placed his palm on yours, non-verbally appreciating support.

“Are you hurt?” you inquired, shifting his body ever so slightly so you could take a proper look at him.

“No.” he whispered.

He wasn’t hurt physically, but you could see he was absolutely crushed emotionally.

A sudden rush of odium surged through your veins remembering that Armin and Mikasa almost got caught in that explosion because of the Jaegerists.

“I can’t believe Eren got off the rails like this.” you muttered, taking Armin’s palms in yours.

He shook his head curtly as he exhaled, darting his lost eyes around. “I—I don’t know what to think, truly.”

“I know, baby,” you hugged him again, snuggling your face in his chest.

He released a deep breath, shivers running through his body, indicating his worry.

“Baby, you have to—” you stopped when you saw so lost a look in his eyes, it seemed like he didn’t even know what he was doing this very instant.

His eyes settled on yours, begging for something, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he rested his forehead against yours. “Could you—Could you just—”

His breathing was kind of erratic as he struggled to end his sentence, getting more upset by the second, making you shush him gently with your palms cupping his cheeks.

“C’mere,” you muttered as you gently pressed your lips against his, desperately wanting to drain all his worries and fears away and leave comfort only.

The pecks were reassuring, chaste, yet Armin was more and more reluctant to let go with each kiss. He surprised you by gently catching your lower lip between his teeth, the action going straight to your lower region.

He was never this needy; well, even if he was, he never showed it. Your heart panged at the realization that he’s an absolute messright now, and you want nothing more than to make him feel better.

And so you will.

You ran your palms upwards his toned chest, feeling every crevice and line, until you snaked your hands around his neck and brought your body flush against his; you could almost feel his erratic heartbeat.

Armin gasped into your mouth feeling the friction against his rapidly growing tent, his hands greedily squeezing your buttocks, wanting to lessen the already non-existent gap between the two of you.

You couldn’t control the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth once Armin’s wet tongue plunged into your mouth, awakening the lewd, warm feeling in your lower stomach, making you all too aware of his hardness against your thigh.

“Bed,” you murmured in between sloppy kisses as you pushed him backwards.

He stripped you of your hoodie along the way, leaving you in a black camisole just before you pushed him on the bed: his back connected with the mattress in a dull thump, flaxen hair spreading around his head, forming a halo.

You admired his unbearably cute, blushing face as you straddled him, slowly grinding your clothed core against his erection. The way his arms stroked your thighs, the way his pink lips were rendered ajar by the escaping huffs made the knot inside of you tighten almost to the point of snapping.

“My angel,” you cooed lovingly as your palm stroked his cheek, feeling its emanating heat.

Your lips connected once again in a deep kiss, moans intertwining with each other. Armin’s hands stroked your behind and hips, pushing you against his dick more and more until you couldn’t handle the warm slick that was pooling in your panties.

“Fuck,” you cried, hurriedly removing Armin’s top, as well as your own, followed by your bra – everything flew to the ground. While you were doing this, Armin took care to loosen the strings of your pants and his own, the pieces of clothing joining the growing pile immediately after.

Armin’s dick was so hard you mentally scolded yourself for making him wait so long when he was clearly, so to say, in need. Not wasting any more time, you took his hardness into your hands to position your entrance over his tip, making him hiss in pleasure.

Armin was speechless as you slid down his length – he was almost choking with desire as he gripped just above your hips, trying to refrain himself from pushing you down too hard.

“A—Ah,” you gasped as you leaned your palms for support on his heaving chest.

Armin’s head fell back to his pillow as you bottomed him out, both of your eyes fluttering close at the sensation. He hummed lowly, taking in the warmth of your insides, as his palms ran up and down your naked thighs.

You started to heave your hips up and down his throbbing length, establishing your pace, letting both of you feel each other’s surfaces.

Armin watched your bouncing breasts and pleasure-ridden expressions and felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes at how much he wanted to ravage your senses out, desperately needing to erase the recent events from his head.

Suddenly, he sat up straight, your arms automatically clasping on his shoulders for support as his hand snaked around your lower back and turned both of you over in one motion – your back hit the mattress as your hands unhooked themselves from him and dropped limply to the sides, bent in so innocent a manner. You were sure taken by surprise, for Armin very rarely pulled stunts like this in bed – he was afraid of hurting you and would thus settle with vanilla options more often. The mere thought of Armin acting up made your pussy clench around him, sending him further to his newfound frenzy.

“So good, so good,” Armin was muttering incoherently as he kneeled on his shins, holding you slightly upwards by your hips and mercilessly pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin shamelessly filling the room to the brim.

Your brain was short-circuiting as you struggled to form a coherent thought. “Fuck, oh God, Armin, a—ah,”

Your legs were dangling in the air with each thrust as you bit on the back of your index finger, trying not to scream at the top of your lungs, settling with lewd, broken moans instead.

“Fuck, Armin, I’m gonna—I’m—” you didn’t manage to finish your sentence as Armin finally fucked your lights out, your heart skipping a beat as you struggled to breathe in.

“Ah, fuck,” Armin groaned as your pussy orgasmed around his dick, your face contorted with deep bliss.

He dropped his right palm beside your chest for support as the other dug into your buttocks, his cum spilling deep inside of you, sending a complementary shiver throughout your overstimulated body.

You were still rolling out on your high as you felt Armin’s body drop beside yours, his hand snaking around your waist and bringing you closer like a plush toy. You quickly wiped a stray tear of pleasure so that you wouldn’t alarm Armin even further.

“What was that??” you croaked, panting heavily.

“Huh?” he hummed, eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, head nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“You fucked my brains out.” you didn’t even try to sugarcoat it.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he chuckled against your skin, still struggling to weave a proper sentence.

“Shut up, that was incredible.” you ran your fingers through his messy tuft of hair. “You feeling better?”

He nodded, Eren and his questionable actions long gone from his head. “Oh yeah, much better. Thank you.”

He pecked your cheek sweetly, as if he didn’t make you forget your own name just moments ago.

other armin fics -> x

[heliads]

Breaking Promises

When Julie has to suddenly drop out of a Julie and the Phantoms performance, the role of lead singer falls to her best friend Y/N, as she’s the only other person who can make the boys visible to the world. When Y/N seems betrayed by this, it falls to Luke to figure out why the girl he’s been crushing on seems so hurt.

masterlist

Luke is bent over his guitar, fingers mindlessly strumming the strings. He’s supposed to be tuning the instrument, he knows that, but every time he tries to set himself up for some small task he can’t help but start trying to figure out another song. It’s like he can find music in everything, and sometimes, the call to come up with another few chord variations is too hard to ignore. Especially now, when he should have finished tuning his guitar ten minutes ago.

Well, it’s not like he has a whole lot to do anyway. The different members of Julie and the Phantoms (minus Julie herself) are strewn about the studio. Reggie is lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling. Alex, for some reason, is trying to figure out if he can walk all the way around the room without his feet touching the floor once. His gaze is laser-sharp as he focuses, arms held out for balance as he carefully steps from ottoman to couch cushion.

Luke frowns over at him, attention finally broken from the guitar. “You know, walking on the rug does still count as having your feet touch the ground.” Alex holds up a warning finger. “Actually, the rules are that you can’t touch the floor itself. The rug is not the ground, so I’m fine.” Another voice rings out from across the room. “That’s a lie and you know it. Rugs have never been safe.” Alex folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve been playing The Floor is Lava for decades longer than you, Y/N, so I think I’d know.”

Y/N, however, is undaunted by this. “You can’t pull the age thing on me if you’re wrong. The lava would soak through any rug. It’s an obvious fact.” Alex makes a face at her. “I’m still right about this. Luke, back me up.” Luke shakes his head, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry, Alex. Y/N’s right. Rugs are totally out of bounds.” Alex shoots him a sour look. “Somehow I’m not surprised that you’d pick her side.” Luke’s mouth falls open as Reggie bursts out in laughter. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Y/N’s smiling now as well. “It means that he’s still jealous that we’re right. Pay it no attention.” She turns back towards the notebook in her hands, leaving Alex with the opportunity to look meaningfully between her and Luke. Luke shoots him a glare, which just makes Alex’s grin even broader. Sometimes, Luke wishes he wasn’t in a band with such idiots.

Luke’s irritation begins to fade away when he looks back at Y/N. Her hand is strewn across her lap as she studies her scrawled chemistry notes, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the go. It’s strange- Y/N seems like the perfect person for music. She always knows the beat to a song, and she seems to walk, talk, and breathe melodies just like Luke. Even now, when she’s focusing on her homework, she’s still coming up with drum beats on the fly. It’s astonishing.

Yet every time Luke asks Y/N about music, she always changes the subject. It’s never interested her, she claims, or she has always left that to Julie and Flynn, her two best friends. Those excuses don’t make sense, though- Luke’s been to Y/N’s house before and she’s got piles of sheet music stacked up in the corners, and dusty instrument cases hidden in the attic. Y/N has definitely had a history in music, Luke just can’t figure out why she’s hiding it.

Music isn’t the only mystery lingering around Y/N L/N. She isn’t a ghost, yet she can still see Luke, Alex, and Reggie as if they were all lifers. Luke remembers when they first met- Y/N had been Julie’s best friend, and so she had been inevitably dragged over to the studio to hear the boys perform and prove that Julie wasn’t crazy, just like what happened to Flynn. Unlike Flynn, however, Y/N’s eyes had caught on the boys from the second she walked through the door, even before they had started playing music.

She had greeted them with no problem, and then her easygoing smile had started to fade when she saw the looks of utter confusion on Luke and his friends. A wave of troubled realization crested over her eyes when Julie explained that they were ghosts, as if she knew exactly why she could suddenly see them. Julie had been confused as well, and then she had turned to Y/N with a look of thunderstruck understanding. 

“You can see them because of-” Her voice had cut off and Y/N had nodded quietly. “Yes.” The girls hadn’t said anything more, but Luke can still see the silent sadness that wrapped around both Y/N and Julie before they hurriedly changed conversations. They were clearly hiding something, but Luke doesn’t know what it could possibly be. They haven’t brought it up again, and they seem keen on hiding any possible reasons as to why Y/N has no problems seeing ghosts.

After a couple of minutes, Julie bursts through the door of the studio, out of breath from running to them. She stands in the doorway for a second, looking distinctly panicked. “You guys remember the gig we have planned in a couple of days?” Luke nods, along with the rest of his band. How could he not? It’s a fairly big show, at a premier jazz club. It’s no Orpheum, but it’ll give them some excellent street cred that the band could use to get even bigger.

Julie closes the studio doors behind her, and walks over to the assembled band. “We have a problem.” Y/N’s forehead creases, and she starts to rise out of her chair. “Here, I’ll let you guys talk this over in private.” Yet Julie shakes her head, gesturing for Y/N to sit back down. “Actually, I’m afraid you have to be here for this.” Y/N sits back down, looking troubled. Luke can’t blame her- Julie’s gaze keeps flickering over to her friend with a distinctly guilty expression.

Julie steeples her fingers in front of her. “Something came up with my family and I can’t make it to the show. I know the performance is a big deal, but I can’t miss this thing with my family. The only problem is that the jazz club has a strict policy on band cancellations, and we’ve already missed the window for backing out. We have to perform, but there’s no way I can make it in time.” Luke’s gaze falls. How are they supposed to play if they don’t have Julie? Without her, nobody will be able to see them.

Julie squares her shoulders, as if readying herself for a hardship. “We have to have someone performing with the boys so they can be seen and the club won’t think we’re backing out on them. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be you.” Instantly, Y/N’s gaze drops. “What are you talking about?” Julie holds up her hands as if to defend herself from an attack. “I know how it sounds, but hear me out. You have an incredible voice, and you already know the boys better than anybody else.”

Luke looks over at Y/N, and is surprised to see that she looks distinctly unhappy. Angry, even. Reggie, on the other hand, does not seem to have picked this up. He beams over at her. “Y/N, I didn’t know you could sing! This is going to be so good!” Y/N glares over at Julie. “Judging by the fact that the boys don’t know about this, I’m assuming that this was all your idea. You want me to sing in a band in front of a large audience? Why not ask Flynn, or even Carrie? She would be better for this.”

Julie winces. “I know how you feel, but it’s our only option. The boys have to perform with someone who can see them so they can be visible to the audience. It has to be you.” If looks could kill, Julie would be as dead as Luke. Y/N’s voice is slow and cold. “You know what this means to me. You know exactly what this means to me, and you’re still asking me to do this. I can’t believe you.”

Julie starts to speak again, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. After all, the future of this band is far more important than any of your friends, isn’t it? I know the songs, I’ll be ready. That’s what you really care about.” Y/N stands up, looking down at Julie with an expression of utter loathing. “When you didn’t want to make music because of your mom, I was there. I understood. But the rules only apply to you, don’t they? I will never forgive you for this.” With that, she walks swiftly out of the study, muttering something about needing to be alone.

Luke looks from the slamming door to Julie. “What was that about?” Julie looks sick to her stomach. “I never should have asked her to do this. She’s right, it was a bad idea.” Alex shakes his head, confused. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Y/N having to perform?” Julie just sighs. “It’s personal. If she doesn’t tell you, I don’t think I should either. I’ve already upset her too much.”

Luke gets up slowly. “I’m going to go talk to her.” Before Julie can say a word to stop him, Luke is already poofing out of the studio. He can see Y/N’s figure disappearing around one corner, then two. He follows her slowly, and feels a dull surprise creep over him when he realizes that she is heading towards the cemetery. What could possibly be waiting for her there?

Something in the back of Luke’s head is telling him that this is too personal, and he’s about to witness a scene that was not meant for his own eyes to see. Something else tells him that Luke needs to see this to understand Y/N, and to learn how to fix whatever problem has just split her friendship with Julie down the middle. So, Luke continues to shadow Y/N’s footsteps, always just behind a tree or out of sight when she looks back. He has a feeling that if he is sighted or makes a sound, Y/N will back down from whatever she is about to do.

Eventually Y/N stops moving, and kneels beside a gravestone. It seems fairly recent, not chipped away and eroded like the others. Luke peers closer at the stone and realizes that it’s inscribed with a girl’s name, and the last name is L/N. Also, the death date occurred about a year ago. All of a sudden, Luke realizes who Y/N is visiting. Could this be her sister, a sister that died? Is that why she’s so upset?

Luke’s thoughts stop churning for a second when he realizes that Y/N is speaking quietly to the stone. “Hi. It’s me again. I just had to come here because-” Her voice drops off and she takes a second to collect herself before she begins speaking once more. “I need to apologize. You know that band I’ve talked about before? The one that’s made up of my friends? Well, they have this performance coming up in a few days, and they need me to sing with them because they’re ghosts and I’m one of the only people who can see them. I know how it sounds and everything, but I have no choice-”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she stops speaking. There, standing a few inches in front of her, is a girl. She looks only a couple of years older than Y/N, and even without the inscription on the headstone Luke can tell that this is Y/N’s sister. He can see it in her eyes, the shape of her face. However, unlike Y/N, this girl has a distinctive scowl that never seems to leave her expression, not even for a second. Y/N seems startled at the sight of her sister. “You’re here? I thought-”

Y/N’s sister cuts her off. “What, you thought I wouldn’t be here and so you’d feel okay with pretending everything is fine? We had a promise, don’t you remember? If I have to die and never play music again, you have to uphold the bargain. That’s how it works.” The girl starts walking forward, and Y/N scrambles backwards out of her way. “It wasn’t my choice- I didn’t want to- I have to be there! I tried to argue but there’s no way out of it.” The girl clicks her tongue in disappointment. “I hoped that you would try a little harder. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping my memory? Well, I can think of another way to keep the promise.”

Luke’s head snaps up as he realizes what the girl is about to do. Just before the sister’s arm reaches Y/N, he has poofed into existence in between them, stopping the blow just before it lands. Y/N stares at him. “Luke? Where did you come from?” Luke flashes her an apologetic smile. “I was trying to find you so I could figure out why you were so upset. I think I get it now, though.” Y/N’s sister huffs an irritated sigh. “Look at you, a friend to the rescue. This doesn’t concern you. The promise is between us.”

Luke shakes his head. “You don’t get to hurt her. Not like this, not in the promise. I want you to leave her alone. Only come back when you’re ready to apologize or treat her better.” Y/N’s sister scoffs. “And why would I do that?” Luke’s gaze grows steely. “Because I have friends who can make you. Have you ever heard of Caleb Covington? He knows me, and if I needed something I know he’d show up.” Y/N’s sister’s gaze falters. “You’re in touch with Caleb?” Luke nods. “I take it you know him?”

The girl looks terrified. “Any ghost who’s anybody knows about Caleb.” Her gaze cuts over to Y/N. “I’ll stop, I swear it. Sing with them. I don’t care. Just don’t set Caleb on my trail.” Luke squares his shoulders. “I won’t unless I have to.” Y/N’s sister fixes him with one last look, then poofs out again, leaving Luke and Y/N alone. Luke offers Y/N a hand, which she takes. She’s shaking slightly, which twists Luke’s heart like a knife. She glances over at him, confused.

“Wait, why did you bring up Caleb? I thought he hated you guys. You talked about him like he was a friend.” Luke spread his hands. “She doesn’t have to know that. I mean, all I really said is that Caleb knows who I am, and he does.” Y/N laughs incredulously. “You were bluffing that whole time? Even I believed you.” The two of them walk out of the cemetery, and only after they’re out on the sunlit sidewalk does Luke finally turn to Y/N once more.

“Was your sister the reason you didn’t want to perform with us at the club?” Y/N sighs. “Yes. We were closer than anything, and we had a little gig going as a joint act. We sang and wrote music together. We had plans of being this great band, and then she died one night in an accident.” Y/N stifles a broken laugh. “When I saw her again, I thought I was hallucinating. Then she broke my window and I realized she was actually there, albeit in ghost form. She made me promise that I would never perform again, because it wouldn’t be fair to her memory. Some part of me knew it wasn’t right, but I was afraid of her, I guess.”

Luke sees the doubt beginning to creep back onto Y/N’s face, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It wasn’t right at all. That promise wasn’t something she could ask of you. That’s not dedication to music, that’s just her controlling her. A real musician would want you to move on and grow. I mean, we all hate Bobby because he stole our songs, not because he kept performing. I mean, I’m proud of him for doing so well, even though he tried to write us out of history. The issue isn’t with you singing, I promise.”

Y/N looks up at him, and Luke feels lost in her gaze. “Thank you for having my back. I know I shouldn’t have blown up at Julie, but I was so upset that she would make me perform that I guess I just lost it.” Luke frowns. “Julie knew about the promise?” Y/N nods. “I dropped out of music class and she wanted to know why. I told her that my sister had died and she didn’t want me to perform anymore, but not about the ghost stuff. Obviously.” A slight smile begins to creep onto her face. “Honestly, I’m excited about performing. I haven’t sung in front of people in a long time.”

Luke returns her smile. “I’m excited to hear you. To be honest, I’ve been hoping to hear you perform for a while.” Y/N’s brow furrows. “You knew I did music?” Luke shrugs. “I knew music was important to you so I took a guess. I know you’ll be amazing.” Y/N laughs. “How do you know that?” Luke leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I just have a feeling.”