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samaraxmorgan · 6 months ago

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#remember when I said I wasn’t gonna write a full fic and it was gonna be a drabble?#I fully expected this to be 500 words I am so serious #but instead this is one of the longer ones of the series ASSKKSLS #MERRY CHRISTMAS TEAM!!!#roommate Sukuna au #nav ryomen sukuna #my writing #jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk modern au

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lazylittledragon · 1 year ago

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'i'll just do a couple of doodles of mombin™/platonic stobin parents' nevermind, borderline graphic novel

#stranger things #platonic stobin #mombin™#robin buckley #steve harrington #i blacked out at 2am last night and wrote like 25 pages #i don't write fic so i do this instead and get to call it my job #incredible #i have No excuse to not finish this one bc i'm not at school anymore #there has to be an existing gay club called passionfruit right #cw pregnancy

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written-in-knife · 1 month ago

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Jump Rings and Bite Marks

Floyd Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, miscommunications, fluff, swearing

You have a crush on Floyd, Floyd has a crush on you... not that either of you admit to it in a way that the other understands.

Word Count: 6110

Okay so remember how we looked past the intro on my Cloudcalling fic and it got better a little ways in? Yeah? I need yall to trust me again, there's like two sections of lead up into the good stuff that I couldn't figure out how to rework to fit better but they're a little too tied into the plot to get rid of. Yall trust me? This is heavily influenced by various other Floyd fics and it's also my tribute to the merform gatcha gods for my final ten pull, wish me luck!

Ace and Deuce had finally gotten used to how blunt you often were, more often showing annoyance with their actions than cracking a smile, but they knew you cared about them. So when the anemones sprouted on their heads, they weren’t surprised to see you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms but you agreed to help them out to the best of your abilities the next day at lunch. You already had the Headmage on your ass about fixing this problem, but you weren’t about to leave your best friends hanging.

After you followed Azul around for a day with Jack, you were approached by the twins. When they turned their attention from the anemones to you, your friends watched as your eyes went wide. You looked... nervous? For the first time since they met you, you looked nervous about a non life threatening situation. Which was fair, the Leech twins were intimidating. Floyd teased you about the look on your face, dubbing you Shrimpy. Jack was the only one to notice the shift in your demeanor, namely the blush that rose to your cheeks for a moment as they kept speaking to you. He said nothing, figuring you were just uncomfortable about being singled out. When you went to the Mostro Lounge that night, you were surprisingly accommodating when the twins volunteered you and Jack to help with orders. You didn’t need any direction or instruction past how the tables were set up, you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

Jack noticed the blush on your cheeks again when the twins confronted you outside the Atlantica Memorial Museum. While Deuce and Ace were going pale upon seeing the two, you were red? He hoped with fury. He noticed it again after you were all electrocuted by the contract in Azul’s office, when Floyd threatened to squeeze you all. He watched you hang in the doorway a moment as you all escaped, he was the only one to see your wide smirk as you blew them all a kiss goodbye before joining the rest in their escape. When you finally got the photo out of the museum and got cornered by the twins again, Jack swore you looked happy to see them, grinning wide when you heard Floyd call out Shrimpy. That was because of your plan, right? Right?

The boys didn’t have to know about your little crush, the way your mind blanked whenever Floyd got a little too close. So when he swam in a tight circle around you, his tail fin brushing against your arms as he wrapped around and away, it was all you could do to not start twirling your damn hair. You sounded a little too eager to your own ears when you took up Floyd’s suggestion of “tag” until the sun went down, hoping the others just saw it as you being thrilled that your plan was working. As with most magical fights, the best you could do was call shots. During the overblots, you found blunt objects you could physically attack with, but underwater when your movements were so restricted anyways? No shot. You had just yanked Deuce out of the way of an incoming spell, and he turned to thank you just in time to see Floyd swimming up from behind, much faster than anyone expected. You barely had time to turn around at your friend’s fearful expression when Floyd crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and swimming away. The way he was holding you pinned your arms to your sides, and he started absolutely cackling as he started for the surface. You were much too close, the skin contact, the way you were pressed against his chest. Your face was bright red at this point. You held your breath as he broke the surface of the water, the potion still in effect, and with his full strength coupled with the momentum, chucked you into the air. You wanted to yell, but continued holding your breath until you were back in the water. When you dropped back under, you were laughing, loud and delighted. It absolutely threw Floyd off as he swam to grab you again, holding you by the waist this time, twirling the two of you around as he swam. You yelped when he grabbed you, still laughing as he moved.

“Shrimpyy~ where’s the picture?” He drawled lazily, as if he weren’t swimming at full speed, twisting around with you in his arms.

“I don’t have it!” You laughed, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto his arms.

“Eh? Are you having fun?” He asked with a large, sharp grin, leaning in closer and squeezing you a little tighter.

You didn’t have time to respond before he dropped you, practically bowling you into your classmates. You landed on top of Ace, who tumbled into Jack before you were all in a heap on the ground, you still chuckling and dizzy.

Three overblots in the bag and you were finally getting used to the way things would just go back to normal afterwards, like there wasn’t just a massive, life-threatening fight. Jack handed you the photo from the museum, announcing your victory despite there not being a contract anymore. When you held up the picture, Floyd came over and draped himself on your right shoulder.

“Aha ha, that takes me back! This is a picture from our school field trip.” He announced as he leaned in closer to get a better look at it, pointing at the kids in the picture. “Me 'n Jade are right here. Aaand...” he dragged his finger over with his drawn out word, “see the kid sulking way off in the corner? That's baby Azul!”

Azul screamed as you pulled the picture closer to your face to look and cooed about how cute he was. “DON’T LOOK! PLEASE DON’T LOOK!”

He made to leap forward to snatch the picture, only to be blocked by Jade, now hovering near your left side with a sly grin. “Well well, Azul, you sure are spirited all of a sudden.” Jade practically purred. “Shouldn't you get a little more sleep? Considering how far things have already gone, it would be easier for you to let this one go.”

Floyd took the picture from you to hold out for the others to see, not removing himself from your shoulder as he did. Azul screamed again as everyone looked at the picture, making their own remarks on baby Azul.

Jade noticed how close his brother was getting to you, he would do this fairly often. Find someone he thought was interesting, cling to them for a week or so, then get bored and never interact with them again. But the weeks were going by with no sign of him letting up. Floyd sulked when he couldn’t find you at Ramshackle after a few days into the winter holiday, not knowing you were being essentially held captive in Scarabia. When you and Grim crash landed in the Mostro Lounge, Floyd scooped you up off the floor, your feet dangling in the air as he squeezed you and twirled you around. He only put you back down when the Scarabia students threatened them, and Jade watched as he stepped protectively in front of you. Interesting. After the fight, Jade patched up the cuts and scrapes you’d gotten when you crashed into the lounge. He sat you in a stool at the bar, Floyd jumping up to sit on the counter behind you, despite Azul’s protesting, as you told them what happened. You had almost gotten used to Floyd coming up behind you and resting his chin on top of your head at this point, so it was no surprise that he did it when you were trying to explain.

More time passed than Jade expected. You’d dealt with Jamil and Vil’s overblots and Floyd was still following you around. He noticed his brother snap at anyone else who got too friendly with you, and watched as he brought you little gifts nearly every day. A tooth here, a scale there, he even found you a pearl once. He followed you around more often than not, to the point where Azul wrote up an employee contract for you to get paid to sit in the Lounge so Floyd would show up for work and stay for his entire shift. Most of your classmates avoided you like the plague, even when Floyd wasn’t around. Even your friends were almost too intimidated to hang around. Almost. They stuck around when Floyd was busy with something else, often asking if you were okay, if you were in danger. You always waved them off, claiming that Floyd was mostly harmless. Interesting.

You were in the lounge, getting paid to sit at the bar so Floyd would do his job. You’d tried to sit in the booths before, but it was apparently too far away for Floyd’s liking as he would wander out of the kitchen and join your table, food orders piling up while he just sat with you. So Azul moved you to the bar, designating a seat for you where Floyd could see you through the window. You pretended not to notice when Azul would grumble about this “silly infatuation” Floyd had. You knew he liked having you around, he had mentioned that he thought your reactions were hilarious, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call it an infatuation. Sure, you flirted here and there, but you just kinda figured that was part of his whole vibe. You were working on your homework at the bar when there was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Floyd letting out a long string of curses and the telltale bang that he’d just kicked something. You glanced around quickly, trying to see if Jade or Azul were nearby to go in and check on him, only to find them both busy with their tables. You hopped off your bar stool and wandered to the kitchen door, pushing it open just enough to poke your head in. Floyd was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing at the side of his head and pouting, looking down at something in his hand.

“Floyd?” You called out, catching his attention. “You okay?”

He looked over quickly, pouting even harder as he did. “Shrimpyy...” He groaned as he wandered over, pulling you into the kitchen proper and draping himself over your shoulders like he usually did. He stared you in the eyes for a moment before looking down at what was in his hand again, prompting you to also look down. Shining blue scales and jump rings in a pile in his hand. You looked back up at him, tilting your head slightly to see that the only part of his earring that was still there was the post itself.

“Oh, what happened?” You asked, reaching up to take the post out of his ear.

“I caught it on that damn shelf,” he huffed, glaring over at it like he could set it on fire, “Azul’s never fucking in here, why’s it matter to him if I move the damn thing higher up so I don’t bash my fucking head?”

His ear wasn’t bleeding, as far as you could tell. You dropped the post into your palm and held your hand under his for him to pass you the rest of the pieces. He just stared at you for a moment before tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ve got a needle nose back at Ramshackle,” you explained, not moving your hand away, “I can bring it back to you in the morning.”

He just blinked at you for a moment before carefully dumping the rest of the pieces into your hand. “Careful with it, our mom made us these before we started middle school.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, extracting yourself out from underneath him.

He just watched as you gently folded your fingers around the pieces and walked out of the kitchen, too much going through his head to make a bigger reaction. You headed back to your spot to gather up your things, catching Azul’s attention from where he was making a coffee.

“Done with your work?” He asked from behind the bar.

“No, something came up,” you shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder, still gently cradling the earring pieces to your chest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and concern as he watched you walk out of the lounge. He’d seen you come out of the kitchen... He put the coffee down and walked back into the kitchen, where Floyd was still standing in the same spot, rubbing at his earlobe.

“What was that?” Azul asked, crossing his arms.

“I think I’m getting married.” Floyd responded casually before turning back to the prep table.

“What does that mean?!”

You’d had to go to Sam’s to pick up more jump rings, one of them having gotten lost or snapped when the earring broke. Sam really did stock everything, and you were glad for it. It didn’t take long at all to put the pieces back together. Three scales, the tracks still in place, it was just the jump rings that had stretched open with the strain. You decided to just replace the rings all together rather than risk the metal fatigue on such a small wire. You finished it with enough time to finish your homework before bed. The next morning before classes, you headed over to Octavinelle. You were hoping to find Floyd in the student lounge, or maybe Mostro, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You’d been to the twins’ room before when Floyd insisted on showing you a new pair of sneakers he’d gotten for basketball, so you knew where it was. You weren’t particularly excited about dropping in unannounced so early in the morning, however. You wandered down the hallway towards their room, other students giving you a wide berth as you passed, muttering behind your back. Ever since Floyd started following you around, it was always the Octavinelle students that had the most to talk about, and they weren’t exactly subtle. But you ignored it as you always did as you approached the twins’ door and knocked, it’s not like their gossip could bother you unless you let it, right? You only had to wait a moment before the door swung open revealing Jade, hair half ironed and a confused look on his face. The look only lasted a moment though, quickly turning to a smirk before he turned to go back to his desk, leaving the door open for you. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, Jade sitting down to return his focus to his flat iron. Floyd was still asleep on his side of the room, face down, tangled up in his blankets and hoodie, one arm dangling off the bed. You walked over and set your bag down next to the bed, leaning down to put a hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. You didn’t get the chance to shake. The second your hand hit his shoulder, his eyes flew open, the hand that had been brushing the floor shot up to grab you by the lapel of your jacket. It only took a second for him to adjust, his murderous look quickly shifting to a wide, sleepy grin as he let go of your jacket.

“Shrimpyy~” He crooned through a yawn, grabbing your arm to pull you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

“Floyd--!” You yelped as he yanked you into bed, arms coiling tightly around you.

He hummed pleasantly, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “You should wake me up every morning, you’re much nicer than Jade~!”

“If only it were always that easy to wake you.” Jade chimed in.

“Ya don’t haffta dump cold water on me, ya know.” Floyd snapped, arms tightening around you as he turned his head to glare at his brother.

“Sometimes that is the only way, Floyd.” Jade grinned wickedly at him before turning off the flat iron and standing up. “Do try not to stay here all morning, we still have classes to get to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd huffed, burrowing his head back into your shoulder as Jade left the room.

Once Jade was gone, you pushed up slightly from Floyd’s grasp, pushing his face to the side to get better access to his ear. He laughed at your antics until he felt you slide his earring back into place, one hand darting up to feel the fixed jewelry. He looked shocked for a moment as he turned his head back to you before laughing in delight, both arms coiling around you and twisting you to lay next to him on the bed between him and the wall, the two of you now facing each other on your sides, your legs still draped over his. He didn’t say anything as he nuzzled back into your shoulder, and for a moment you thought it was just him being sweet, until you felt his teeth dig into the bend of your neck.

“FLOYD!” You shrieked, instinctively grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and yanking.

It did little to deter him, his sharp teeth digging further into the soft skin of your neck painfully. After what felt like a very long moment, you felt his teeth slide back out, replaced by his tongue dragging over the wound. The sensation made you shiver as he did it again, pain rippling up your neck.

“What the hell was that for?!” You asked as he finally pulled back, a little bit of your blood on his bottom lip.

“What, I can’t say thank you?” He asked in a teasing tone, his hands running down your back as he moved in closer, eyes locked with yours. “Yer all red~”

“That hurt, Floyd.” You snapped.

“Hm... could bite me back, it’d make ya feel better.” He yawned again before flashing his teeth at you in a grin that felt slightly menacing.

“No thanks.” You huffed, moving to sit up again. He gave you a confused look as you climbed back over him to get off the bed. “I gotta meet up with Jamil before class starts, I’ll see you later.”

He sat up, watching after you as you left the room, looking more and more confused the further away you got. He waited a few minutes to be sure you were gone before he rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed before heading to Azul’s office. He was pouting when he slammed open the door, startling Azul away from his paperwork, Jade casually looking up from a page he was reviewing.

“Ah, Floyd. Did everything go well?” Jade asked, the question alone making Floyd kick over a chair before flopping onto the couch.

“No.” He spat out, curling up on his side, facing the back of the couch.

“What in the world are you two on about now?” Azul sighed heavily, glancing between the two of them.

“Well, whyever not?” Jade asked, ignoring Azul’s question.

“They fixed my earring!” Floyd grumbled, turning his head to display it. “And they didn’t even bite me back!”

Azul and Jade exchanged glances for a second, before Azul chimed in. “You... bit Yuu?”

“Duh!”

“Well, they are a human, perhaps they don’t--”

“I’m sure it just startled them, and they will return your affections when they are ready.” Jade said over Azul, hoping more than anything to just watch the chaos unfold.

“But they fixed my earring!” He whined, pouting at his brother, apparently not having heard Azul.

“They are human, it’s likely humans take things slower.”

Azul threw his hands up slightly, glancing around as if to confirm with someone else that he was actually in the room.

“Fiiine...”

Things changed slightly after you fixed Floyd’s earring. He’d bit you really hard, it was likely going to end up leaving a scar behind. But every day afterwards, you caught him staring at you more, as if expecting you to do something. After a few days of him staring so intently, you ended up attempting to do a backflip on the grass in the courtyard. Attempt being the operative word. You got most of the way through it before belly flopping into the ground. It was better than you thought you would do, and it made him bust out laughing as he jogged over to check on you. Every day his stare seemed to get more and more intense, but not much else changed. His gifts were coming a little more frequently, he even made you a little necklace with a chain, some wire, and another pearl he’d found, and he was still hovering enough to keep most of your classmates away. Almost a week out and your neck was still sore and bruised. You were eating lunch in the cafeteria with the freshman group when you turned your neck wrong, catching a painful spot and causing you to reach up and massage it.

“You alright?” Epel asked when you accidentally bumped him with your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry, just hurts.” You grumbled.

“What does?”

“Floyd fucking bit me last week.” You sighed, rolling your shoulder a bit as you put your hand down. “Like, really hard.”

“Dude, he bit you?” Ace asked through an amused snort, getting you to glare at him.

“...How hard?” Jack asked hesitantly, Ace snickering behind his hand.

“Hard enough to bleed, probably gonna scar.” You complained, popping the top button on your shirt and moving the collar of your shirt aside for them to see it. “Jamil helped me clean it up, but even he thinks it’s gonna leave a mark.”

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked back down at his lunch, cheeks dusted pink and ears flattening backwards. You shook his reaction off as Epel examined it a little closer.

“It doesn’t look infected, at least.” He confirmed, still grimacing. “Ya weren’t kiddin’ though, that looks rough.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar.” Deuce agreed, turning back to his lunch as you covered the mark up again. “At least you have a permanent reminder of NRC, even if you do go home.”

“Gee, I’m so incredibly thrilled.” You deadpanned, making him snort out a laugh.

Ace nudged Jack, who was still staring intently at his sandwich, with his elbow. “What’s up man? I know your puritanical beliefs don’t allow you to view ankles or whatever--” you nearly cackled at the quip, “--but it’s alright! They’re properly covered now!”

“You make me sound like a whore for showing my sinful neck.”

“Yeah, you heard me.”

You snickered before turning to Deuce and Epel. “Imagine if I had to show this shit to Rollo.”

“I think he’d die of a heart attack the second you opened your collar.” Deuce laughed, Epel chuckling along.

“Likely guy’d pop an aneurysm ‘fore a boner.” Epel chimed in.

The three of you going off on your tangent kept Jack from explaining what a bite like that meant. He figured you’d find out eventually. The topic changed entirely for the rest of the lunch period. Before lunch was over, however, someone plopped down beside you, cutting off any remaining conversation.

“Hey Floyd.” You said without having to look up, still working on the last bits of your lunch as he leaned on your shoulder with a sound that almost resembled a purr.

Ace and Deuce were already on their feet, quickly saying their goodbyes before scrambling away, obviously still traumatized by the contract fiasco. Epel patted your shoulder, careful of your injury, and said goodbye before leaving as well. Jack stayed for a moment, locking eyes with Floyd.

“What’s up, Sea Urchin?” Floyd drawled lazily, a dangerous smile on his face.

Jack shook his head and stood up. “Nothin’. See ya, Yuu.”

You waved to Jack as he left before looking at Floyd, who looked highly satisfied. “Well, you chased off all my friends. What’s up?”

“Meet me in the mirror chamber after class, okay?” He asked, sounding significantly more like a demand.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise~”

You arrived at the mirror chamber not long after classes let out, having to drop your stuff back at Ramshackle before going. The second you walked through the door, Floyd was in front of you, shoving a potion into your arms.

“Drink this!” He said excitedly before jogging over to the dark mirror.

You examined what he handed you, one of Azul’s water breathing potions, and quirked an eyebrow at him as you moved to join him by the mirror.

“Floyd, where are we going?” You asked, trying not to get exasperated by his antics.

“Less thinkin’ more drinkin’!” He commanded, popping the cork out of the bottle for you.

He nearly lifted it to your lips before you pulled it out of his reach. You sighed heavily before chugging down the disgusting potion while Floyd nearly bounced with excitement. Once the bottle was empty, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you after him into the mirror, the dizzying transition into the water causing you to squeeze you eyes shut to ward off the vertigo. Once you opened your eyes again, Floyd was in his natural form, absolutely beaming at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and speeding away.

“Floyd!” You laughed as he spun you around, clearly heading in a specific direction. “Where are we going?!”

“You’ll see, quit askin’!” He laughed back at you, twisting in the opposite direction to wrap his tail fin around your legs for a moment.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, holding onto his shoulders as he cut through the water. You could barely see the scenery of the ocean floor as it whipped past, occasionally able to catch glances of schools of fish as they scattered away from Floyd. The further you went, the darker it got, until you were just able to make out glowing speckles along his arms, up his shoulders, around his neck. It looked like the night sky and you couldn’t stop staring, even as he slowed down. You were finally broken out of the trance when he stopped, laughing as he looked down at you.

“Yer like a fish, distracted by anything shiny.” He teased as he set you down.

Now that you were able to look around, you could see that he brought you to a cave. He’d sat you in the middle on a nicely angled stone in the only patch of light that was filtering in from a hole at the top that was letting in the sun.

“Where are we?” You asked, turning to look at him again, only to find he’d disappeared.

Your head whipped around as you tried to spot him. He wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

His laughter bounced off the cave walls, making it impossible to pinpoint where he actually was. “A cave. Don’t worry, I scoped it out, ain’t nothin’ livin’ in here.”

“Okay... Why are we here, then?”

You spotted the bright flecks of his skin above you on a shaded overhang, lounged out on his stomach on the very edge, glowing yellow eye peering down at you. He grinned as you made eye contact, but you could only see it in the way his gaze narrowed.

“Cause I figured out why ya wouldn’t bite me.” He explained, not moving from his spot. “Too many people around ya, all the damn time! No way to getcha alone back at school, so...” his arms fanned out as if displaying the cave, “ta-da! Nobody’s gonna interrupt us here!”

“You... want me to bite you?” You asked, confused, watching his proud expression blink into blank.

“Yeah?”

“...Why?”

He blinked a few more times before propping himself up on his elbows to look at you better. You could see him a little better now, he almost looked offended.

“What’dya mean why?” He asked, hostility creeping into his tone as he leaned over the edge of the overhang. “Do ya not wanna bite me?”

You paused, trying to search your memory for any clue as to what he would be talking about and coming up blank. “Why would I?” Is what came out after a moment.

His brows furrowed as he pushed off the overhang, swimming over to you. He circled you slowly, searching your expression with each pass as his tail fin got closer and closer to holding you in place. When he finally stopped, his tail was wrapped loosely around you, almost like a threat, as he looked you dead in the eyes. He looked upset, confused... hurt?

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked back with an angry pout. “Ya fixed my earring, didn’tcha? I didn’t even ask, ya just did it.”

You blinked rapidly at the whiplash, getting even more confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His confused expression matched yours now, less upset than before as he moved in closer, examining your eyes for a moment before pulling back again and furrowed his brows like he was about to crack the code. Before you could ask any of the hundred questions dancing around your head, he popped the top button on your shirt and yanked your collar aside to see the bite mark. He met your eyes again, pointing at the mark.

“What is this?” It sounded more like he was explaining shapes to a toddler.

“That’s where you bit me.” You snapped, swatting his hand away only for him to lean in closer, tail tightening around you.

“What does it mean?”

You gave him another confused look as he stared you down steadily. Your eyes drifted away for a second as you thought about it, shaking your head as you met his eyes. “You said it was to say thank you? Helluva thanks, by the way, shit hurts.”

He looked confused again, searching your expression for any hint that you were messing around. Finding none, he narrowed his eyes at you for a second before smiling and tilting his head to the side.

“Shrimpy doesn’t know what the bite means~” He teased, tail squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go as he resumed his lazy circles around you. “Betcha didn’t know what fixin’ my earring meant either, huh? Oh shit, you probably didn’t know about our dance either!”

“What is happening right now...?” You sighed heavily, catching his eye every time he floated into your vision.

On one of his passes he scooped you up, moving to sit on the rock himself and placing you in his lap, one leg on either side of his tail. He grabbed you by the chin, tilting your head to the side to examine the bite closer as he laughed.

“That day in front of the museum,” he started quietly, close to your ear, “when I grabbed ya and threw ya outta the water... you remember?” You nodded slowly, feeling him smile against your jaw. “You thought it was fun, I thought that was real cute. That spinnin’ that I did was flirtin’, I was dancin' with ya.”

“What--?”

“So’s all the little things I getcha...” His hands moved down to your waist, ignoring the question he’d interrupted. “I was gettin’ pretty confused why you weren’t get me anything, til you fixed my earring...” He turned his head, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “See, jewelry’s real important for us merfolk. Gettin’ jewelry usually means a lot, means ya really care if you’re outside the family. Like ya wanna stick around. I thought it was real weird that ya used my own earring, but yer also poor. I thought that was your way of sayin’ ya wanted to stick around...” You glanced at his earring, surprised Floyd of all people had put so much meaning behind what you thought was just a kind gesture. Different cultures, you supposed. He nipped at your ear as you tried to turn to look at him, a warning to stay where you were. “S’why I bit ya... Means you’re mine.” His fingers tightened on your waist. “Thought that’s whatcha meant when ya fixed it...”

Your heart pitched at the sad tone in his voice. You knew the two of you had been flirting, turns out you didn’t know just how extensively. Your fingers flexed at his shoulders as he leaned the side of his head against yours, staring at the bite mark. What’s a bite, anyways? It got you where you ultimately wanted, which was dating Floyd. You sighed heavily, before leaning forward, and biting down as hard as you could on the same place he’d put yours. You heard his breath hitch before he broke into laughter, and you didn’t stop until you tasted blood mixed with the salt water. When he started to bleed, he tugged at your hair, pulling you off him. He looked delighted as he met your eye, tail fin snaking up behind you and wrapping around your waist.

“Aww, Shrimpyy~” He cooed, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“Coulda just told me that’s what that was about.” You scoffed, gently rubbing the area around the wound you’d created.

He shrugged, rubbing his nose against yours as he pulled you tighter against his chest. “No backin’ out now~” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, about to quip back when he pulled you the rest of the way in, closing the distance. His lips were a lot softer than you expected as they moved against yours, sharp teeth nipping against your bottom lip when he grinned into the kiss. He tried to follow when you backed off, needing air, until he saw your hand fly to your neck. You needed air. He barely got out an “oh shit” as he unraveled his tail before he took off with you in his arms, speeding out of the cave and shooting up towards the surface. Once you broke the surface, he gave you a second to catch your breath.

"I didn't grab another potion." He laughed. "How long can you hold your breath?"

You rolled your eyes again, pulling him into another quick kiss. Quick turned sour as Floyd pulled you in, and you had a feeling there would be no such thing as a quick kiss with him.

“Ah, there you are, Yuu!” Jade called out as he approached you in the hallway, a delighted smile on his face.

“Hey Jade, what’s up?” You asked, ignoring how your friends shuffled off to the side to avoid Jade’s attention.

“I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials.” He beamed down at you.

“My what?”

“I was surprised when Floyd told me, of course,” he continued, ignoring your question, “it all happened very fast, and the two of you are so young, but isn’t that just the way of things?”

You looked desperately to your friends, Ace and Epel snickering and muttering to each other, Deuce looked shocked, and Jack was just shaking his head. There was no help to be found from any of them.

“Our mother is asking after you,” he kept going, making your head spin as you tried to process the information, “and I’m sure our father would also like to meet his new child-in-law--”

“Child-in-law?” You squeaked out.

“--so we will need to make arrangements for introductions.” He paused for a moment, tapping a knuckle against his chin as he thought. “The two of you have stirred up quite a fuss, I’m sure Mother will want to make plans for a more formal affair... We’ll have to see about getting a row boat...”

“Why do we need a boat?”

“Oi!” You didn’t have time to turn towards the voice before a notebook sailed over your head, smacking Jade square in the face. When it dropped, so did Jade’s serious expression, now sporting the usual mischievous grin that he had whenever he was messing with someone. Floyd came up beside you, resting an elbow on your shoulder as he did, glaring at his brother. “I just got ‘em hooked, don’t be all weird and scare ‘em off.”

“What, I can’t tease them anymore now that they’re my sibling-in-law?” Jade drawled.

“Least wait til I get Ma on board.” Floyd grumbled before stooping down and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Floyd, what does he mean “nuptials?”” You asked quickly, Ace and Epel cackling at your expense as he carried you off. “What does he mean “in-law?””

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland fic #mine #i realized something while i was writing this. im a jeweler. i could very easily make the tweels' earrings #and im a metal smith so i could probably make kalim's earrings too. they'd be bronze instead of gold but still #im actually highly considering it.

1K notes · View notes

jesuistrestriste · 7 months ago

Text

nsfw (18+) cw : switch(sub leaning)!art donaldson, switch!fem!reader, art is a sensitive softie, dry humping, cumming in pants, mutual orgasms, fluff, porn with some plot

wc : 3.3 k

"Did you have fun?"

Art's words sound out softly against the background hum of his car's engine. You rub your hands together between your thighs, trying (and failing) to properly warm them up after being in an ice rink for over an hour. You look to him from the passenger seat and smile at his slightly eager-to-please tone, your cheeks burning from the cold. You should have worn a scarf.

"Yeah," you hum, "I did.. I haven't been ice skating in forever, it's been years.."

He laughs softly and nods, almost sheepishly, "yeah, same.."

It's the end of November, nearing the start of December, and tennis season is well over. Art still goes to the indoor courts pretty consistently, but he's decided to shift all of his focus to you now that he has the free time to spare.

The two of you met about a month and a half ago; he'd been rushing to meet Patrick at some restaurant near campus, and he had slammed right into you when he'd been looking down at his phone to text Pat back. Wide blue eyes met yours and his tender hands had come up instantly to steady you on your feet as he stuttered out at least five 'im so sorry's. Somewhere in between those apologies, he'd gotten ridiculously lost in your features. The way your lashes batted up at him, the soft smile on your lips, the way you chuckled at his idiotic carelessness.

And you had forgiven him pretty quickly, so that helped.

The whole thing was incredibly cliche; the both of you could see that now.

He'd gotten your number that day only because he had practically begged to get you a coffee sometime to make up for the whole ordeal. His wind-swept blonde curls and furrowed brow made him look just like a dumb little puppy, pleading with you to keep him and collar him, so it wasn't hard for you to rationalize giving him your digits then and there. He seemed genuinely sweet, unlike so many other guys at Stanford. You'd give it a shot.

Seven dates later, and you two were officially toeing the line between "what are we?" and "let's move in together". Art, in particular, was completely infatuated. He would always look at you like you were the only reason he was breathing and moving. It was a little bit insane how hard and fast he fell for you.

And so he resisted the urges.

The ones that would coil in his lower stomach when he held your hand, and the ones that would throb in his veins when he pressed his lips to yours. All of them. He'd move at your pace. He wasn't one to push.

You nod and smile, before you pull your clasped hands from your lap and attempt to blow hot air in between them. Art's car was taking longer to warm up than normal.

He watches you for a moment before he shakes his head and tugs his hands out of his coat pockets.

"I told you to bring gloves," he jokes lightly, reaching over to envelop your hands in his warm palms, his calloused fingers curling over yours.

Your face heats slightly, and you chuckle as you look down to his grasp on you. After a long beat, your eyes raise to look up to his again, and he swallows thickly before his left thumb strokes over one of your knuckles. The little touch, the gesture, is so him. Always wanting to provide and comfort, but never wanting to risk shaking the foundation.

He’s never made the first move, it was always you.

"Thanks," you breathe out, your gaze darting just momentarily down to his pink lips.

It's hard for you to ignore the way he quickly wets them while the tense silence hangs in the air.

Art's feeling a steady thrum of tightness in his chest. How is it that he still gets nervous around you? He's kissed you lots of times before now.

And yet, here he was: still shy, still tense, still nervous.

"No problem," he whispers, hearing his heartbeat pound in his ears, "is.. is this better..?"

A gentle nod from you is all he perceives before he feels the warmth of your lips press against his own, and the tension that’s been brewing all evening finally reaches its boiling point.

He melts into it instantly, into you; leaning in to breathe into your open mouth when you pull back for just a moment to tilt your head the other way. His hands leave their position around yours, and move to clutch your waist as he pivots in the driver's seat to face you more. He's never felt so on-edge in his entire life, the sensation of a familiar sort of hunger starting to ignite in his belly.

Your touch moves to the back of his head, pulling off his thick beanie and tossing it to the back of the vehicle as you kiss him with rapidly increasing passion. You feel his tongue slip out to lick over your bottom lip, and you slack your jaw to let him taste you better. He laves his soft tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth. You swallow that noise down, and the next one that comes right after; just like you always do.

He tastes faintly like sweet peppermint gum, which he had been anxiously chewing earlier on this particular date in order to self-soothe. You had just looked so pretty with the cold first nipping at your skin when he came to pick you up; it scrambled his brain on the spot.

"Ahh," he whines shakily as he feels you tug his head back, your left hand tenderly fisting his curls, "hngh.."

You hum and smirk before you lean in to lick over his neck. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop any more needy sounds from spilling out, and his hands pull at the sides of your coat. Shit, he can feel himself swelling in his jeans. For a second he thinks the zipper might pop.

Once your tongue finds his weak-spot, right below his ear, he's jerking forward in his seat and letting out a choked moan. His hips rise desperately, trying to seek out some sort of friction, but all he can feel is his cock rubbing against the inside of his briefs — not nearly enough to put out the fire in his gut.

"You okay?" you breathe out lowly between kisses to his pulse, "this okay?

He nods feverishly. A reflexive buck of his pelvis follows suit.

"Can we... I dont know-" you whisper against his skin, and Art thinks he might die. He's so keyed up right now, he'd do anything to get to feel you under all of the layers.

"Please."

And there it is. He couldn't even stop himself before the word was already out and drifting into the minimal space left in between your bodies. You pause your lips and pull back to look to his eyes.

A hand moves from his hair to his cool cheek. "I- I'm ready to do more... If you are too, I mean.."

He's nodding before you even finish; and his pupils dilate into big, black, iris-eclipsing saucers as his brows pinch up and he whispers back to you.

"I want to touch you," he trembles, "I really, really, really wanna touch you..."

You feel a sticky heat cling to the inside of your panties.

Ugh, he's always good at making you feel this way, even if in the past it was relatively unintentional. Sometimes he's been too innocent for his own good.

"Can I?" he whispers, breaking apart your thoughts, like the very syllables have been beaten out of the depths of his desires.

You let out soft sigh through parted lips, taking in the look on his face before you're crawling over the center console and into his lap. Your body settles comfortably over his thighs, and then your head bumps up against the roof of the car. You make a slight noise of surprise, ducking down with a soft giggle, and Art's right hand instinctively raises to protectively cup the spot on your head that had hit the interior. He looks up at you, letting out a breath of a laugh before lifting his brows to wordlessly ask if you're alright.

You kiss him again instead.

He gasps and swallows as he feels you further straddle him, and his hands move to start unzipping your puffer as he kisses you back. It's easier said than done when his hands are shaking, but he manages and then helps you shrug off the coat before it gets tossed into the oblivion to meet his hat from earlier.

A string of spit connects your mouth to his as you pull back, and he drinks in the sight of you above him; your thermal long-sleeve clinging to your skin so tight that he can see the outline of your bra underneath.

You lean in once more and kiss his jaw twice before letting your hands wander down to help him take off his own jacket. Once it's off and on the car floor with the other pieces of discarded clothing, your palms move up under his shirt to caress his bare skin. You feel his abdomen shudder as your nails graze the pale flesh there.

"Where do you want me?" he asks breathlessly, his eyes already glazed over with arousal and a wish to please you.

"Anywhere.."

".. Here..?"

His hands reach up to palm your breasts over your top, and he relishes in the soft moan it elicits from you. The sound of it rings out in his head and then he can't help but whimper as he leans into your body, his cheek to your jaw. Art's hands slither hastily under your shirt and then to your back before he fumbles with the clasp of your bra. You smirk softly and fondly as you feel him struggle, and you decide to maneuver your touch up to the back of his neck. Your fingertips tease the back of his hair. Teasing turns to stroking, and suddenly you're petting him to ease his nerves. If he had a tail, it'd definitely be wagging; you can feel him buzzing with eager energy all over.

Once the bra is popped open, he gently pulls back to look up to your eyes and then he's huskily whispering up at you, "can I take this off of you?"

"Yeah, take it off-"

He doesn't waste a second once he sees you raising your arms, nearly tearing the top in the process of getting it up and over your head. The bra comes off quick right after; he doesn't even notice that it's red (his favorite color). With how much is going through his head, it's a miracle he can even manage to undress you without losing it...

The moment that you're bare in front of him from the belly-button up, he sags back in his seat and takes you in. His lips parted in a gentle 'O'. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he moans lowly, his palms pressing to your lower stomach before they slide up and cover your soft tits, "you're so beautiful, oh my god.."

You moan when you feel him start to knead your breasts under his tender touch, nipples pebbling in response, and you roll your head back with pleasure.

"You're.. s-so sweet," you groan.

He squeezes your chest again before he leans in and presses a kiss to the right side, and a kiss to the left (it's only fair). He looks up to you through heavy lids before he surges forward with a renewed sense of passion and attaches his lips to one of your nipples.

"Shit-!" you gasp, and your hands tighten in his blonde locks, "ugh, don't stop, Art.. that feels nice.."

He moans around your squishy flesh and then his eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue over your bud and suckles. His mouth is warm and wet and perfect. His teeth brisk your sensitive skin.

A sharp moan slips from your lips in response, and then your hips jerk over his quickly. Just once; just enough. It's denim on denim, thick fabric dulling the sensations, but god- the pleasure bites perfectly at the both of you.

Art can barely process how good it feels before he's drooling around you over his tongue and rolling his own body up, trying to meet yours again. Wordlessly begging you to keep going.

Please, please, please do it again.

You breathe heavily and then rock down over his lap again, chasing the stream of electricity that it sends up your spine from your cunt. There's a mess of slick seeping from you as you push your clothed clit against Art's bulge, humping him like some sort of depraved teenager, but it's going to get you there.

Hell, it's getting you there quicker than you thought.

"Ooh, fuck," he hiccups out against your skin, releasing your breast from his mouth as his eyes fly open and then promptly roll back into his head, "ohh god, oh g-god.."

You rock a bit faster over him, a little moan escaping with each needy motion, and you move your hands to hold his shoulders for leverage. You feel him wrap his toned arms around your middle.

"Sh-Should I move too?" he gasps.

You can feel his thighs quivering.

If you really focus, you can even feel his dick throbbing in the confines of his pants.

"Yeah, ohh, yeah.. yeah, move, move.”

In an instant, Art's hips are grinding up to meet yours while his hands move urgently to hold your waist. He buries his face into your neck and tries to bounce you on his lap in his grasp. Up, down, up, down, over and over and over. Like he’s fucking you; buried deep inside your oozing pussy.

"you feel so good," he breathes out, hardly taking enough air into his lungs to get the words out, "this feels... f-feels so good.. ohhh-"

A few stuttered whines slip from your mouth and then you're working harder to press yourself further down over his erection, trying your best to relieve the scorching heat building in your core. More, more, more, you just need more.

"fuck me..!"

It tumbles from you unexpectedly, and the young man under you chokes on a guttural groan that's already halfway out. His nose crinkles with pleasure, and he swivels his hips harder to rub his boner against your crotch. He tries to speak, he really does, but all of the words get swept away on broken, strung-out whimpers that clog his throat.

You two are fogging up all four windows in his car, and anyone who's looking on from the outside will know exactly what's going on just from the shaking alone.

"Shit, you're gonna make me—“

Art cries out as he digs his heels down into the mat below the pedals; his toes curling as he registers the rapid feeling of boiling tension brewing in his balls, seeping out and pulling his limbs taut against yours. He's so close.

"—you're gonna- 'm gonna come—“

He tries to warn you, shuddering when he hears you squeal in response, and he has to force his eyes open and crane his neck back so that he can savor the sight of you falling apart on top of him when he tips over. A small part of him wishes he was being hugged by your tight, gummy walls; but this was perfect for now. It was what you wanted, so it was what he wanted too.

"Fuck, Art! I'm almost—!"

The sound of his name coming out of you like that sends him spiraling, his cock pulsing in his boxers with want.

"Me too, me too, oh god, pleasepleaseplease-"

You two are rutting and thrashing against each other like a couple of animals, breathing heavy and moaning as you both try to maintain eye contact in those split few seconds before everything fades away.

"Can I come?" he trembles, and you can see wetness glistening over his lash line, threatening to spill. He can’t say it now, but he's barely holding it all in.

For you, he'd wait.

Even if it felt impossible.

You speed up your humping, the seam of your jeans slotting perfectly against your swollen clit as the warmth of his cock sends you hurtling towards the finish line. You nod down at him, moving your hands from his shoulders to his flushed face, "yes, god, please come with me!"

It only takes three more snaps of his pelvis against yours before the both of you are gasping and crying out simultaneously as the hot coils burst loose; Art's back arching up from the seat as you curl over his chest and yelp. He's moaning, voice cracks and all, as his legs shudder under your seat over them. His hands fly up to hold you close, almost like he's scared you'll somehow slip away.

"fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes, please, god, i'm coming so hard..!”

He whimpers helpessly, feeling sticky heat bloom against his kicking length as each wave of his orgasm floods his system. It's wholly all-consuming, his vision whiting out around the edges before he has to squeeze his eyes shut and give up the sight of your face as you climax. He thinks he might legitimately pass out.

You're left wheezing over his lap, groaning pitifully as you feel a wave of slick and wetness drench your underwear while the height of your own peak ebbs, and you finish yourself off fully against his thigh as you come down. One of your hands reaches down to rub yourself over the soaked fabric, and you twitch before falling forward into his frame.

You both jolt a bit while the aftershocks keep you feeling pleasantly numb, but it's blissful.

It's completely and utterly blissful; it just feels right.

Him being so close to you, you being so close to him. Sharing something so deeply intimate and yet feeling so comfortable and so safe— it was like something clicked into place.

One of Art's hands reaches to your upper back, rubbing it comfortingly as he tries to steady his breathing.

".. Woah," he whispers in awe, fingertips tracing soothing patterns on your skin, "that was.. really.. haah.."

A little shiver passes through him and he then decides to cut himself off before he lets slip something dumb and ruins everything.

You gain some semblance of consciousness back and lift your head upright slowly, gazing down to him. His hair’s a mess, his blue eyes shining with low lids, and his bottom lip looks freshly bitten.

"That was really good," you chuckle breathily, finishing his sentiment for him. You were good at that- helping him feel whole.

He just nods and you get to watch his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

"I... I was thinking.." he starts, only to shy away from your gaze by looking down.

"Yeah..?"

You stroke his hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead.

"Well, I just, we've been, like, 'seeing each other' or whatever," his eyes reluctantly raise again to look up into yours, "and, I just thought that.. we might..."

"We might...?" you smile as you urge him to speak up for himself.

He can only muster a soft, shy chuckle at first.

"I just thought that we might be.. together.."

Your breathing catches, only for a moment, as the word—and the weight of it—sits heavily in the dense air being kept trapped in by the car's doors. Art swallows thickly.

"You wanna be together?" you whisper, barely audible.

He seems hesitant to answer that.

But he does anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

A soft smile creeps onto your face, and then you lean in to brush your lips against his. He closes his eyes in preparation for a kiss, but it doesn't quite come. They flutter back open, and his fingers twitch idly on your lower back.

Please say something, he thinks. He's holding his breath.

You murmur against his mouth, delicate and earnest, with a shrug almost gracing your shoulders as you speak to him. You want to let him know that he doesn't have to be scared to tell you what he wants.

That it's okay.

That you want the same thing.

"Okay.. then let's be 'together'.."

#🩷 - thirsts #fic #this was meant to be a drabble #but its basically a full fic whoops #im trying to get back into writing full pieces instead of short ones #also i never know exactly how to end fics like this lol #reader and art are just cheesy !#let them be cringe #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #challengers smut #challengers x reader

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arttsuka · 10 months ago

Text

Au where this happens instead of the portal incident

Edit: someone did write a fic about it. Wow. Here

Original image:

#someone should write me a fic about this actually. pretty please?#Ford calls Stan to help him and he slerps with Bill instead so now everything is fine au #gravity falls #bill cipher #stan pines #stanley pines #ford pines #stanford pines #billford #billstan #art #fanart #traditional art #watercolor #meme redraw #young stanford pines #young stan pines

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atlabeth · 5 months ago

Text

in over my head

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: between all the arguments, you and spencer begin to understand each other a little bit more.

a/n: wauw.... out of nowhere i wrote 4k words and finished this chapter in one night... god bless spencer reid. i hope you all enjoy. r's cold heart is finally starting to defrost. title from the fray song

wc: 5k

warning(s): arguing, case discussions (stalking, murder, etc), talk of parental neglect, hurt w/o comfort then hurt/comfort. r lowkey freaking out this whole fic. the usual good time

You lean against the wall, trying to keep your breathing as quiet as possible.

You don’t really want Spencer to know you were eavesdropping on him the whole time. You don’t really want him to see the look on your face because he defended you to your dad.

He— he should expect it, shouldn’t he? He’s sitting out in the living room on the phone, and you’re you. It’s only natural you’d listen in on him.

Spencer defended you to your dad— mouthed off to him in very un-Spencer-like fashion.

Why?

From what you’d gathered, he practically worshipped the guy. Even if he didn’t, your dad was still his superior. It didn’t really seem like any kind of good idea to talk back to him.

But he did.

For you.

You thought Spencer merely tolerated you because he had to. You wouldn’t blame him, the way you treated him. So why would he do something like that for you?

You’re jarred out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer say your name. You blink back into yourself to see him standing in front of you, and you feel your face burn.

So much for not being obvious.

“I’m assuming you heard everything?” he asks.

You nod. You have the decency to not insult his intelligence, at least.

“That means we can go over everything,” Spencer says, already starting to walk away. “Come on.”

You frown. You expected him to be mad at you for eavesdropping, or use what he did for you as leverage for something, or— or do anything but act normal.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts once again as you follow him back to the living room. Spencer sits back down on the couch and you tentatively sit across from him.

“I don’t want what I said to scare you,” he says. “Hernandez may be our lead right now, but I doubt it’ll stay that way. Elle and Morgan are going to check him out, and I’ll get another call once they do.”

You blink. Of course he’d expect you to be focused on that part—your stalker, the threat against your life, the whole reason you’re in here. Not Spencer sticking up for you.

“Right,” you say. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Honestly? No.” Spencer sighs and shakes his head. “You heard what I said. He doesn’t fit the profile—he’s a man who made the worst choices of his life when he lost everything. If he’s been released, he might have actually changed. We’re only on him because he’s all we’ve got.”

“…Good,” you say. “Strangling wouldn’t be my top way to go.”

“You need to stop talking like that,” he says.

“I need to stop doing a lot of things,” you respond. “Any idea how much longer we’ll be in here?”

Spencer shakes his head. “We’re here until this case is solved or our cover is blown.”

You huff. “Like if this guy finds us again?”

He nods. “But that shouldn’t happen. Elle, Gideon, Hotch, and Strauss are the only ones who know about this place, and they’re obviously sworn to silence.”

“Strauss?”

“Erin Strauss,” he says. “The BAU’s section chief.”

“Ah.” You realize you’re still holding your mug, now empty, and you lean forward to set it on the table. “What happens if we’re made?”

“You’ve got to stop thinking about the worst case scenarios,” Spencer says. “Pessimism doesn’t just make anxiety, depression, and paranoia worse—it can raise your blood pressure, increase your chance of cardiovascular problems, and mess with your immune system. It’s literally bad for your health.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” you ask. “I’ve got a stalker and we didn’t realize until he’d been watching me for a month. Your team has only got one lead and you don’t even think it’s the right one. That sounds pretty negative to me.”

“We’re still at the beginning of this case,” Spencer says. “It usually takes a few bodies for us to figure out what’s really going on and find the unsub in our regular cases.”

You stare at him, and he seems to realize what he’s actually said.

“Of course, there won’t be any bodies in this case!” he rushes. “You— you’re going to be perfectly fine!”

“You’re really not great at reassurance,” you say wryly as you pick up your cup and stand up, “are you?”

“Homicides only occur in two percent of stalking cases!” Spencer continues, his voice rising as you go into the kitchen. “A- and you might not even be the primary target! If anything, he might be going after your dad!”

By now you’ve finished filling your mug again. You stop at the edge of the hallway when he finishes, leveling a tired look at him.

“Thanks, Spence. That really helps.”

You walk back to your room, and once again, you only close the door halfway to humor his concerns.

If you’d lingered a little longer, you would have been able to see his frown.

“Spence?” he murmurs in confusion.

The rest of the day goes by smoother than you thought it would, largely because Spencer keeps his distance and you don’t fight it.

You busy yourself with more cleaning—you never finished it after your last outburst—and when you finish that, you read. You find Pride and Prejudice in the box of books the BAU provided, and it’s a good distraction. You’d much rather worry about the problems of the Bennets rather than your own.

You end up cooking first, and you offer Spencer some of your pasta when you finish. He initially looks shocked at the olive branch, but you figure you owe him something for all he’s put up with.

You don’t tell him that, of course. You just tell him he has five seconds to make a decision before you finish the rest, and he snaps out of it pretty quickly.

(“I promise I’m capable of cooking,” he says as he spoons a helping into his bowl. “I— I just don’t have much time for it. We’re always out on cases so we go to a lot of restaurants, and I get take-out at home because I get home at ungodly hours.”

“Just shut up and eat your food,” you say. “I don’t need to hear your opening statement.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t call this an opening statement. It’s more of—”

“Oh my god.” You pick up your bowl and walk off. “Goodbye.”

“I think it’s more of a witness testimony!” he calls out.)

A similar thing happens with dinner, where you pull out the old reliable of chicken and rice. Dressed up a bit with some of the vegetables that are somehow already on the verge of going bad, but still the same thing you’ve eaten a million times throughout your life. You don’t really feel like cooking, but you also don’t feel like having to hear Spencer set the smoke alarm again, so you settle for this.

(“You know,” Spencer says as he cuts into a chicken thigh, “I should really be trying everything first. Just in case there’s poison or something.”

You stifle your incredulous laugh. “How would there be poison in anything? You all bought and brought this stuff in.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But you can never be too careful.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say. “I— I think that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve said since I’ve met you.”

“I hope you’re not challenging me,” Spencer says. “Because I can beat it very easily.”)

Between that, he calls out on occasion to make sure you’re still alive. You think it’s stupid, but it seems to ease his mind, so you play along.

He gets a call from your dad late at night, which he then goes on to relay to you—Agents Greenaway and Morgan paid a visit to Adam Hernandez, and they weren’t able to find anything suspicious. Penelope Garcia is going to comb through everything she can find on what he’s done since his release before they officially abandon the lead, but Hernandez is on parole and hasn’t violated it once—he seems to be clean.

You don’t know whether you’re thankful for that or not. On one hand, you want this to be over. Getting lucky on the first suspect would be great. On the other hand, having a face to all of this scares you more than not knowing. You still have the chance to deny that all of this is real, really real—when they find their guy, you can’t do that anymore. There’s actually someone out there that wants to hurt you.

The thought crossed your mind more often than not.

Other than that, he doesn’t really bother you. Another thing where you don’t really know if you’re thankful or not.

It’s close to midnight, and though you haven’t been able to sleep, you’re ready to accept this as another, thankfully non eventful day.

But then there’s a huge flash of lightning, visible even through your closed blinds, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder, and your whole body freezes up. Your hands stop on the page you were on, and a chill runs all the way through you despite the layers of covers you’re under.

Rain has been pittering against the house for half the night, and you can deal with rain. You can’t deal with thunderstorms.

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. The absolute last thing you need to do is work yourself into a panic attack and get Spencer involved. You don’t think you could take the embarrassment.

You attempt to go back to your book. You’d just arrived at Mr. Collins’ unsuccessful marriage proposal, but you can hardly focus. It doesn’t help when lightning illuminates your room once again, a clap of thunder sounding even quicker after, and your lamp flickers for a moment. This is actually the last thing you need—for the power to go out.

A knock on your door suddenly sounds, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You’re already on edge and the storm’s just barely started. You hear Spencer call your name and ask if you’re awake, and you clear your throat before you respond.

“What do you want?” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it wavers ever so slightly.

“Can I come in?”

You don’t want him to see you like this. “Is there something wrong?”

“It’s the storm,” he says, and he doesn’t wait for you to respond. “I’m coming in.”

You have all of two seconds to make sure you don’t look as pathetic as you feel before Spencer walks in.

He looks like he just got out of bed. He’s wearing a Caltech crewneck and sweatpants, and his glasses are about to fall off his face. His disheveled appearance is in stark contrast to his usual image, with dress pants and button-ups and sweater vests galore. One of his hands clenches around the doorframe, and he uses the other to haphazardly push his glasses up as he sets his eyes on you.

“You need to come back into the living room,” Spencer says.

“And good evening to you too.” You try not to look at him. You’ve learned that’s the best policy when it comes to him and those stupid glasses. “Why?”

“Because there’s a storm going on, and the power’s already flickered,” he says. “I don’t want to lose track of you if it does go out.”

“If the power goes out, we’re in the open out there,” you say. “If you’re so worried about it, you should stay in here.”

You expect a fight, but he just sighs and sits down in the chair across from your bed. “Fine.”

You frown. “That was easy.”

“I don’t feel like fighting with you over every little thing,” he says simply. “You might enjoy it, but I don’t. So I’m trying to take the path of least resistance.”

“That’s no fun,” you say.

“Well, you’re not very fun to be around,” Spencer says. He glances at you for a split second before his gaze goes back to the wall. “So.”

“Well, neither are you!” You don’t mean for your retort to come out so defensively, and you cringe as he looks back at you. It’s impossible to be around profilers without them knowing your every intent. You’d hate to know all the thoughts he’s had about you. “I might turn everything into a fight, but you turn everything into a drag.”

“You’re doing it again,” he says. You expect him to go on, but he leaves it that. You find your brows furrowing deeper.

“And?”

“Maybe if you recognize your patterns, you’ll stop,” he says. “Sometimes people don’t realize they're doing something until it’s pointed out to them.”

You huff. “How many times do I have to tell you not to psychoanalyze me?”

“I don’t choose to do it,” Spencer says. You don’t miss the slight bite behind his words, and it almost makes you smile. As much as he doesn’t want to give you a fight, he can’t really help himself. You tend to bring out the worst in people. “It just happens in my brain automatically.”

“Try to hold back,” you say. “It—”

Your words die in your throat with another crash of thunder, almost simultaneous with the lightning. It shakes the whole house, and you can’t help the full body flinch that wracks you, almost freezing completely. The power flickers again, and then it goes out altogether. You don’t even hold back your groan of annoyance.

“Of course,” you grit out. “Of fucking course.”

“Are you okay?” You look at him despite yourself, and even in the dark you can see the concern in his eyes. It makes your hands clench into fists beneath the sheets.

“Fine,” you mutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer frowns. “Of course it does.”

You scoff. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Why would it not matter?” he asks incredulously. “You— you’re clearly distressed, and holding it back isn’t helping anyone.”

“Maybe I just like silence.”

“Well, you clearly don’t like storms.”

“How’d you figure that one, genius?” you mutter. You wrap your arms around yourself and pull your knees up to your chest, trying to lessen the sudden chill you feel.

“...Normally, I would give you a real answer,” Spencer says. “But based on the lecture you just gave me—”

“You figured right,” you snap. It only takes a second—and those stupid, soft eyes of his to dart away again—for you to feel… bad.

He sighs and shakes his head as he stands up. “I’m going to get a candle. Stay put.”

You tense as he walks out. Your whole body does, actually. You don’t know what it is about him or those stupid eyes that always manage to skirt out sympathy from you.

You should feel gratified. At the start of this, you wanted to push Spencer to his limits—he’s too nice for his own good, and you wanted him to not only give you a more concrete reason to hate him, but get a reason to hate you back. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with this one-sided rivalry with the apparent saint of the BAU.

But you don’t. You feel bad, and you hate it. You hate it more than any reasonable person should, but then again—you’ve never been reasonable.

Spencer comes back in sooner rather than later, two lit candles in his hands. You can see the on-sale sticker plastered on the side of both, and you suppress a laugh. It’s something so small but so typical.

“One’s vanilla, and one is,” he squints as he shifts it in his hand to read, “beach escape. What does a beach escape even smell like?” He shakes his head, then looks at you. “Which one do you—”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. You blurt it out before you can even stop yourself.

This time, it’s Spencer’s turn to frown. His face is illuminated from beneath by the candlelight and it gives him an almost haunting beauty, highlighted with yellow and white along his jawline and cheekbones. The flames are mirrored in the lenses of his glasses. “For what?”

“For snapping.” You almost snap at him again out of instinct, and you let out a long, loose sigh in an effort to try and chill out for once. “Sorry. Again.”

“Oh.” He stands there for a moment holding the two candles, and it could be a laughable sight were you not near consumed with guilt. “Uh— it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Fine,” he says, “it’s not. Which candle do you want?”

“Which one do you want?”

“This isn’t where you have to start the ‘being nice to me’ thing,” Spencer says. “They’re kind of starting to burn my hands.”

“Beach escape,” you say. He nods and sets it on your bedside table, then sits back down in his chair after placing the vanilla one in the window sill.

“You… seem a little pent up,” Spencer says after letting the silence dwell for a beat. His shoulders have relaxed some, not hunched up almost to his ears. Small victories, at least.

“I don’t talk about my emotions much,” you respond in equal fashion. “It’s not really my thing.”

He shrugs. “Why not start now?”

You laugh. “Why would I ever start now?”

“You said it yourself,” he says. “I have a psychology degree. I’m a good listener.”

“You interrupt me all the time to say stuff.”

“You interrupt me all the time too, so I guess we’re even.” Spencer shifts in his chair. “Besides, I can listen when it’s important. And this is.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

He has beautiful eyes even in the dark, and you hate that you can’t deny it. Deep brown like the oaks surrounding this place, that shine like pools of honey in the firelight, that always seem to soften just so when he looks at you.

You break first. You have to look away. You always have to look away.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you manage. “I was a latchkey kid. Storms happened a lot when I was home alone and they scared me. I guess they still do. Happy?”

“Believe it or not, your pain doesn’t make me happy,” Spencer says.

“I didn’t think it did,” you say, trying your best to snap.

He nods. “So we’re in agreement?”

“I—” you pause, a slight frown creasing your brows. “I guess.”

Spencer nods again, and he leans forward a bit. “Wasn’t that a lot better than fighting with me, getting upset, and isolating yourself?”

You scowl. “Don’t you dare therapize me.”

“It’s hard not to,” Spencer says. “Especially when you seem determined to make our conversations one-sided.”

You scoff. “I do not.”

“You act like talking to me is a physical pain.” He crosses his arms. “You locked yourself in the bathroom last night to avoid talking to me.”

“I locked myself in the bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my mind in front of you,” you say. “Just because I know everything about you doesn’t mean I want you to know everything about me.”

Spencer scoffs. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“My dad talks about you more than you think,” you say. “About your whole team—but especially you.”

“Where am I from?” he asks.

“Vegas,” you say. “He mentions it every time you beat him at cards.”

“That— that doesn’t really matter,” he says. “I know you’re from Fairfax.”

“The worst place in the world,” you say emphatically. You can’t believe you’ve been stuck in NoVa your whole life. “Doesn’t count, though. You’re an FBI agent—you’re supposed to know things like this.”

“So it counts when you know it, but it doesn’t count when I do?” Spencer asks.

You nod. “I’ve heard about Penelope Garcia. I’m more surprised you don’t know everything about me by now.”

“Me too,” he says. “Garcia can find anything. Gideon really did a good j—”

He stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he clamps his mouth shut.

“What?” You lean forward, looking him in the eye. “He did a good job doing what?”

“I don’t want to start another argument,” he says.

“Oh, poor you.” You don’t think you could sound more sarcastic if you tried. “You don’t want to hear me talk about my absent father that didn’t have time for me because he was too busy with you.” You glance away. “You don’t know what it feels like.”

“There’s something you don’t know about me then,” Spencer says. “Because I do.”

“Unless your dad’s ignored you all his life in favor of his job and the stray genius he found there, you really don’t.”

“My dad left when I was a kid because he couldn’t deal with my mom’s schizophrenia,” Spencer retorts. His words get you to look right back at him—they’re not overly sharp or exceedingly soft, just matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen him since. So you’re right—I don’t know exactly what it’s like, but I know a hell of a lot more than you think.”

Regret hits you immediately, sour and spiny as it settles in your chest. You’ve been an asshole to him this whole time, and all along he’s held this inside of him? All along, you’ve been accusing him of stealing your life from you when he’s lost more than you have.

For a moment, you can only stare at him, at a loss for words. He meets your eyes in equal measure. You might know a lot about Spencer Reid, but you’re quickly realizing you don’t know Spencer Reid.

“Guess we’re a lot more similar than you thought,” he says in your silence.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you murmur, finally managing to muster up words. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No one does,” he shrugs. This time, he’s the one to look away. “But it is what it is.”

“How can you just say that?” you ask. You lean forward, a frown creasing your brows. “How are you not just— just angry all the time? That your dad doesn’t give a fuck about you or your mom?”

“For a while, I was.” He chuckles, but there’s no heart in it. “I was angry at everyone. My dad, my mom, the adults around me— I hated myself most of all. It’s part of the reason I was so good in school. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to deal with it, so I studied as hard as I could, read as much as humanly possible.” He smiles thinly at nothing in particular. “Turns out I’m very good at avoiding things when I want to.”

You shake your head with a scoff. “You’re a better person than I am. I would have hunted him down by now and given him a piece of my mind.”

“It’s not worth it.” Spencer looks back at you. “He decided he didn’t want to be a part of my life. I’m not going to reward him by letting him ruin it when he’s not even here.”

Is that what you’re doing? Letting your dad ruin your life by letting him occupy every part of it even when he’s not there? He’s influenced every part of your life, every part of you, and he hasn’t been here for half of it. Sometimes you’re surprised he didn’t miss your birth.

Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder. You tense every muscle in your body to stop yourself from flinching as hard in front of Spencer. You think he notices anyway.

“I’ve been angry at my dad since I was a kid,” you say once you’ve recovered. “He missed my dance recitals and my gymnastics meets and my soccer games, but he signed the checks for all of the payments. He told me to take honors and AP classes and missed the ceremonies for the awards. He was never there for anything that mattered, but—” you laugh again, and you blink back the tears— “but he waited until I was eighteen to get a divorce so I wouldn’t have to deal with a custody battle.”

You bite down hard on your lip to force them back even harder as you look at Spencer. “Isn’t that fucked up? Neither of them have been there for us, but they’ve still shaped every part of us with their absence. We can’t escape it even when they’re not here, because them not being here is what caused it.”

“I refuse to give him that much power,” Spencer says. “My dad left. He chose to leave. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, so I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean, I’m an FBI agent. I work with some of the best profilers in the world. I could find him if I wanted to, but I’m not going to waste my time chasing some pipe dream of a father that doesn’t exist.”

“Your situation is different, though.” Both his eyes and tone soften, and something inside you stirs. “The only break I know Gideon’s taken was that six month medical leave that was practically forced on him. I think it would take an actual, life-threatening injury to get him to take another one. It’s a lot different having someone around and just… being neglected.”

“I’ve just always felt like such an asshole for it,” you mutter. “You all save lives every day. You’ve taken down a thousand sick criminals.” You shake your head with another mirthless laugh. “My dad saves women like me every day, gives them the chance to see their fathers again, and I’m mad at him because— because he won’t meet me for brunch? Because he missed my school band concerts?”

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer says. “It’s never that simple. You don’t need to feel bad for hating him, but you also don’t need to feel bad for loving him, too.”

You scoff. “There you go again with the psychology degree.”

“It’s the truth,” he says. “Just because you feel rightfully angry doesn’t mean you don’t still love him. It’s part of the reason why you’re so conflicted about him.” He gave you a wry smile. “It makes everything a lot more complicated, doesn’t it?”

You shift in your bed. “Far cry from everything you told me before all this started.”

“We see completely different sides of Gideon,” Spencer says. “I’m just… ashamed that it took me so long to believe you about all of it.”

You huff a laugh. “I’m the one that should be ashamed. I thought you had this— this perfect life, with my dad loving you on top of it. That’s why I hated you so much.”

He perks up. “Hated? As in, past tense? As in, you don’t hate me anymore?”

You try to bite back your smile. You barely succeed. “Call it a truce.”

Spencer grins and nudges his glasses back into place once again. “This might be my favorite truce since 1914.”

“Christmas Truce,” you nod. “Good one.”

“You know it?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I’m a teacher.”

Spencer blinks. “You— you are?”

“Why is that such a surprise?” you ask.

“You’re so…”

“Mean to you?” You chuckle. “Trust me, I’m not like this with my kids. My job is one of the parts of my life that I’m actually happy with.”

“...Huh.” Spencer smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back, subconsciously. “You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure,” you nod. “Maybe you can tell me about everything you do sometime.”

“You’re sure you won’t get bored?” he asks. “You might not realize, but I have a tendency to rant.”

You laugh. “Part of our truce.”

This time, he nods. “Cool. That— that’s cool.”

You roll your eyes as you look away, but your smile betrays you once again. Your gaze snaps over to the lamp as it flickers back on, and you realize you haven’t heard any thunder in a while.

“Looks like the storm’s passed.” Spencer separates two of the window blinds with his fingers and peers through. You’ve never really focused on his hands like you do now—with the way you feel your face burn, it’s probably a good thing. You look away as soon as possible. “Just rain, now.”

“Good,” you say, and you let out a yawn. “All our talking tired me out.”

“Good,” he echoes as he picks his candle up from the window pane. “You should get eight hours of sleep a night, and I know for a fact you don’t.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, professor.”

“You’re the teacher here,” he says. “I should be saying that to you.”

“And yet you’re so much more annoying than I could ever be,” you muse.

“Does our truce include this?”

“Naturally.”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head. He starts walking to the doorway, but you speak up before he can leave.

“Night, Spencer.” You pause as you bite the inside of your lip, then continue before you can stop yourself. “I really enjoyed talking with you.”

He hesitates for a moment, his hand lingering on the doorframe. Then he bids you goodnight in the same fashion, actually saying your name. “I did too.”

It makes your heart skip a beat.

Spencer closes the door behind him, and you find yourself staring at the wood long after he’s gone. You jolt when you finally come back into yourself, and you shake your head to get out of the haze.

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, and blink when you realize it’s almost 1:30. You really do need to get to bed.

The smoke makes you cough as you blow your candle out, and you wave a hand around to dispel it before you turn the lamp off. You lay down and pull the sheets up around you. You end up having to switch positions at least five times before you start to get comfortable.

But the strangest thing is plaguing you despite your restlessness. You were freezing before the storm started, even when the electricity was working, but now there’s a strange warmth attempting to permeate within you. It almost helps you relax.

The room feels a lot smaller without him in it.

You exhale, long, slow, and deep as you close your eyes. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air.

You hope you don’t dream tonight.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #anyone that knows anything about george mason knows how upsetting it is that she went there instead of columbia LMAO #literally the most soul sucking commuter school

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