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incognit0slut · 7 months

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BATTLE SCARS

Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist

What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.

sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming

words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)

a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me

"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."

Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.

One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.

One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?

And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?

"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"

The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"

"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman?

Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.

Huh.

So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?

"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."

Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"

"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."

He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."

Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."

You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?

When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.

Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."

"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."

"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."

He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."

"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.

Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.

The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.

You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.

You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."

His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

So it really was about you.

His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"

Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"

He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.

"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.

You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.

His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.

Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.

He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.

A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.

But sleep didn't want you.

About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response.

"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.

He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."

From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."

Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."

He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"

You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Y-Your scar."

You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"

His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."

Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.

As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.

"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."

His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."

Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"

You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."

He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"

"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."

Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"

He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."

He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."

You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"

His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.

Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.

"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"

His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.

"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.

Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.

You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.

"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."

A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.

"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."

You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"

You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.

"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"

Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."

"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."

Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.

You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.

You smiled.

Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.

"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.

"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."

It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?

You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.

"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.

"You're.... you're more pretty."

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"

He shook his head.

"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”

The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."

"Good."

You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek. The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open. He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.

"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.

You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.

"Do you want to taste me?"

He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."

You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.

"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.

You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."

You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.

A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.

"Who said you could touch yourself?"

His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.

“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.

"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."

You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.

"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.

You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.

It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.

"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.

“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."

He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.

"Keep your eyes on me."

He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.

You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.

Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"

He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.

You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.

"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.

And then you felt him starting to shake, his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.

You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"

"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."

You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."

The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."

Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.

"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.

For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"

You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..."

You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."

"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.

You smiled.

"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.

He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.

Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.

"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.

You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."

His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.

You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.

"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.

That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.

The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.

Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.

You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.

Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.

"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.

The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut

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wonders-of-the-cosmos · 9 months

Text

Venus - April 3 2023 and May 5 2023

Credit: JAXA/ISAS/DARTS/Kevin M. Gill

#venus #space #astronomy

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Note

ok so we all know Jake is possessive as shit but is it just me that can see him eventually getting to a point where he’s out with his girl and is like yeah baby get those free drinks

like he knows you’re going home with him and him only and he’s got an eye on you if the situation were to go south. but he just has to hold back a laugh when the guy who bought the drinks realizes you have a boyfriend/husband

wkfhskdjsk no, because i can see him getting there as well!! jake might be possessive as shit (because his), but i firmly believe he 100% gets to that point - just because he is there looking out for you in case anything gets out of hand, and c’mon he trusts you 100% - so it just becomes fun for him to watch.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You are standing by the bar, tapping your card on the counter in habit while waiting for the bartender, Kevin, to finish up with the customer he is currently serving when you hear the voice sidle up beside you.

“Thanks, but I got it,” you take a glance towards the stranger on your right, flashing a polite smile. He is good looking no doubt, but you aren’t interested.

“C’mon, no lady should need to buy her own drinks,” the stranger tries again, while propping a forearm onto the bar counter, his body turning, stance open to face you in a casual confidence.

“What can I get you?” Kevin brings his attention to you both. You open your mouth to speak, but the stranger gets there before you do.

“I’ll have a beer, and whatever she’s having,” he drawls, confidently. You hazard another glance towards him only to receive a wink in return.

“I ca-”

“I insist,” he cuts you off almost immediately and you take in his stance, the insistence radiating off his being and you shrug, before turning to Kevin, whose lips now bear an amused quirk; something that one would think is a showcase of amusement at the scene unfolding in front of him, but you know better.

“The usual?” Kevin cuts in, his lips now split into a toothy grin.

“Sure,” you shrug, relenting and Kevin nods lightly, hand already reaching for the card machine, fingers punching in numbers, before he proffers the machine to the stranger who taps his card against the reader.

“So, you come here often?” The stranger asks, and you shrug nonchalantly,

“Now and then.”

“I’m Nick,” he introduces himself, body shuffling forward and closer to you. You smile to be polite, but don’t offer up your own name in response.

“So are you going to give me a name?” Nick asks, leaning forward slightly. It makes you slide back just an inch, “it’s the least you could do.”

“Alright, three beers,” you are saved from responding as Kevin thunks down the uncapped bottles down in front of you both, sliding one towards Nick, and the other two towards you.

“Your usual is two beers?” Nick tilts his head, eyes darting from the sweating bottles and back to you.

“Yup,” you pick the bottles up, one in each hand, nodding a thanks to Kevin, who you note has a lazy wide grin on his face of someone who had seen this happen one too many times “our usual is a beer each” you say simply, while tilting your chin towards the back of the space.

You watch it unfold, Nick’s eyes following the direction of the tilt of your chin, before landing on one Jake Seresin, lounging in his seat, back leaning against the wall, marinating in a quiet kind of smugness, his gazed fixed on you.

“Thanks for the beers though,” you say, with a small upward curve of your lips, eyes taking in Nick’s jaw which has unhinged itself, as his mind whirls, no doubt the collect itself, “they are, very much appreciated.”

You clink one of the bottles you are holding in a hand against Nick’s own which is still standing on the counter before pivoting on your heel to pick your way back to Jake.

“Who should I be thanking this time darlin?” Jake greets you, his eyes dancing with mirth as you set both bottles down on the table.

“You’ve started to enjoy this a bit too much,” you say, as you squint up, eyes narrowing slightly, at Jake who pulls a bottle off the table and raises it in the air, no doubt at Nick, who you are sure, has post the thanks from Jake, scurried off in annoyance.

“It’s a treat,” Jake drawls, reaching over to slide his fingers beneath your chin, tiling your head up and towards him, before tugging your face lightly towards his own; you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning lightly across your own lips, “free drinks, and the knowledge that they’ll never have you because you’re mine,” he chuckles lowly, before brushing his lips against yours, the ending to his sentence something you feel against your own lips, “nothing more a man could ask for.”

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

Text

nightmare!eddie x reader

a Nightmare Factory blurb

I had several smut blurb requests to do with Eddie working his magic to give us a wet dream, including one from the lovely @jo-harrington that I will probably do something with separately, and it's literally all I could think about today, so I spit this out.

18+ONLY, somnophilia, smut, unprotected sex, squirting, reader receiving oral, pet names. Okay so, this is somnophilia because reader is actually asleep, but it's also...a dream. This is a consensual relationship, and they've been together for a while at this point (for those following the story, this is a time jump). It's a wet dream, but there is also evidence that they really had intercourse. wc: 1.3k

masterlist

authors note: I've decided we are going to jump around a bit in theis series because the non-linear way is more fun, I think. I still have a Headless Horseman Eddie coming soon, but this one felt very important xoxoxox

-------

Eddie got to work early that day and threw a sheepish grin down the hall at Kevin before plopping down in his chair for the group safety meeting to do with falling from extreme heights in dreams.

He hadn’t been able to see you in weeks and—my god—he missed you so much it made his heart hurt.

You’d been keeping your nightmare boyfriend a secret from your family and friends, but it was hard not to mention Eddie when you’d made sure his face was a fixture in your life. It started out as a few sketches when you first woke up, trying to keep his image fresh, but then it progressed to paintings and even a few sculptures. You had a whole journal full of notes and different ways Eddie had appeared to you, dating back to before you ever knew who or what he was.

“Last night, he came to me as ghostly whispers that swam in my head, and sang to me a haunting melody.”

You weren’t afraid of anything anymore, especially not your nightmares. Being chased by a masked killer? It was just Eddie, strolling by to say hello. A glimpse of a shadow monster behind you when you stood at the bathroom mirror? It’s just Eddie, coming around on his way to another job. A clawed hand grabs your ankle from under the bed? Of course, it’s Eddie—-he wants to tell you a story about something that happened at work before he forgets.

Two months ago, things had become more intimate between the two of you. There had been some yearning kisses before that, a bit of hand holding, but it was always a gamble because he said he didn’t want to mess up and get “taken off your route” completely, as if he were delivering newspapers or soliciting magazine subscriptions.

That afternoon, you took a nap, and woke up in the throws of a wet dream so fierce, you were barely able to touch yourself before you were cumming so hard it made you shake. When the wave subsided, you rolled over and looked at the ceiling with a smile spreading across your face: “Eddieee, was that you?”

You took that as a sign that he would return that night, and so you slept naked, ready to tempt him. The anticipation made it hard for you to drift off to sleep at first, but it wasn’t long before you felt his calloused hands moving up your thighs.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, waiting for you to acknowledge him. “Did you miss me?”

You moaned, still half asleep, but cognizant of his presence in your dream.

Your lower back bucked off the bed when his tongue sank between your legs, making your cunt throb.

“Damn, I love how wet you get for me,” he kissed your inner thigh and ran his nose along your slit, darting his tongue into your aching hole. His tongue was…longer than you remembered, and you could feel it fill you up and twist inside of you like a big snake on the run.

You whimpered and twitched, making him smile against your engorged pussy as it dripped for him and only him.

“You came so hard for me earlier today,” his whispers were far away but also right at your ear. One mouth sucked at your nipples and licked them while the other latched onto your core—as if there were two of him. “I need to taste it this time.”

Under your closed lids, your eyes moved from side to side and your jaw went slack as a long groan escaped.

You were close, and Eddie knew it.

He could feel your arousal bloom in his mouth, and he rutted it in the air of the celestial sphere the two of you were existing in.

Your whole body stiffened as you came, gasping, hips bucking up to meet his mouth, to let him suck every last drop from you.

“God, I’m so crazy about you,” he mumbled against your slit as he lapped you up, licking all the way back and teasing there a little bit.

You could feel your eyes fluttering open and you worried that you were waking up, “no no no no…” you repeated, becoming aware of the infinite blackness around you.

You saw Eddie’s head pop up from between your legs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Eddie,” you breathed, relieved. You wanted to put your arms around him, to spread your legs wider so that he could be inside of you, but your limbs had minimal strength. “Where are we this time?”

It looked like you were floating in a dark night sky surrounded by a sea of bright, blinking stars. It felt like you were on your bed back in your room, but there was not a trace of anything familiar.

With a grin still wet from your gift, he crawled up on top of you to plant a few sweet kisses on your face. “We’re in the same astral plane with the rest of the soul suckers and the sex demons. I’m doing my best to lay low, so the head Incubus doesn’t know I’m here.”

Talking to your boyfriend and kissing him was great but you were suddenly hit with another blast of horniness so strong it made you clench.

“I need you, Eddie,” you whined against his mouth, finally able to move your hands up to undo his belt. “Inside of me this time.”

His clothes were off in a split second, as if he’d never been wearing any to begin with. Your hole gripped at nothing when the tip of his hard length rubbed against it.

“That’s it —fuck—just like that,” he held your hips up and sank in deep as your eyes fell closed again. You drifted in and out of the astral plane as he made you his with long, slow strokes first, hitting that perfect spot inside each time.

You chanted his name as he worked his fingers in the right spot, just like you'd taught him to the last time you were together. "You're doing so good, baby," you hushed. At one point, you felt like you were being lifted off the bed—becoming weightless—while he kept a steady pace.

He hesitated abruptly, pausing there, and you managed to open your heavy eyelids to look at him.

His expression was a serious one. “I’m about to cum, baby, but I wanted to tell you that I think I…I think I…”

But he couldn’t finish the sentence and your head rolled back as he continued, cursing at how good it felt.

Your second orgasm hit with a sense of release you’d never felt before, and you cried out, trembling, as sunburst exploded at your core and a velvet whip cracked.

“You’re cumming…all over me…oh my god,” and the sight of your release spraying onto his cock made Eddie pour himself into you on the spot, stuttering as your walls milked him, each of you babbling incoherent words of worship to the other.

In the aftermath, he took you in his arms from behind to spoon you close. He could feel your breathing change, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before you left dreamland through the magical door.

“I think…” he started again, brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. “I think I’m in love with you.”

—---

You took your time waking up, guiding yourself through another orgasm as the remnants of the dream lingered. As always, you tried to hold onto the feeling of him for as long as possible, gasping his name as you came again, and your head lolled from side to side on the pillow.

Once you were fully awake, the all too familiar sadness set in; the realization that he wasn’t really there, with you, like you wanted him to be.

Your spirits soon lifted when you felt his seed drip down your leg on your way to the bathroom, elated at the realization that you had successfully kept a piece of him with you.

One day, you’d figure out a way to keep all of him.

#Eddie Munson fic #eddiemunsonseries #eddie munson fanfic #the nightmare factory #nightmare!eddie #somnophilia #Eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #smut #eddie munson x afab reader

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neverendingsatam · 5 months

Text

youtube

Aww, they always go to commercial just before the fight starts!

#yuki 7 #kevin dart #chromosphere #web series #Youtube

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Text

Clown Reader and the monster yan scientist introduced to their show to teach it about the world -

You enter the dimly lit patted cell with your hands against the wall as the metal door slams shut behind you. The stale air is pungent - acidic. Your nails chip at wearing paint as they scrape along the crevices in the walls as you stumble through the dark, tripping over your own signed merch and what you will yourself to believe are plastic dolls. The sole source of light in the room emits from a television in its far right corner. Matted hair and skeletal fingers obscure the familiar vibrant set on display - your own, chipper voice reverberating throughout the hollow prison.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes, wrap your arms around your chest, and give a biiiig squeeze. That's me, hugging you! - until next time. See you soon!"

The hands peel away from the tv with a wet sliick! as the arms attached fall around its shadowed frame. A tiny doll rests nestled in the crook of its elbow as the shadow rasps and coos in delight - lengthy, slime drenched ashen tongue patting the toy's rosy cheek. The teeth embedded into the muscle flattened againat the doll's face as it drags across - retracting into the grey flesh and leaving the plush exterior unscathed. You step back; beady, sunken eyes darting in your direction as your foot lands on the voicebox stitched into the stomach of one of your dolls.

"Cuddle me!"

The shadow drops to all four, cradling the arm with your doll to its chest. You soon realize it's number of limbs was double by three as five hands find perch on parts of your body. A growl rumbles in its throat and through your teeth, but as its jaws draw towards your neck it stops to sniff your skin. The creature looks between you and the doll in its hand, chittering softly as its eyes switch between the mini you and the real thing. You crack a smile, blinking tears from your eyes.

"H-hey, big guy! My friends out there tell me you're a fan, and from the looks of you, you might be the biggest! What's your name?"

The creatures hisses return with vengeance at the mention of others, but break into gentle purrs at the acknowledgment of being your greatest fan. It lets you go, searching around and plucking something off the breast pocket of one of those dolls you saw earlier. It licks the rectangle clean of the viscous fluid staining its frontside. It shoves the nametag in your face, tapping its claws against the plastic.

"Kevin? Your name is Kevin?"

The creature coos again, nodding its head before dipping in to sweep its tongue cross your cheek. Your smile becomes a little more genuine as you wipe your face on your sleeve. You extend your arms as it drops the doll and holds out theirs. "It's nice to meet you, Kevin."

Crackposts because yes:

Clown Reader, pointing at the scientists hiding behind thick glass: Kevin, can you tell me who this is?

Kevin, growling: Sinclair....

Clown Reader: Right! [Points at themselves] Who am I?

Kevin: Spouse.

Clown Reader: It's Y/n, actually

Kevin: Mine.

Clown Reader: Y/n

Kevin: Love.

Clown Reader: Ok, gang! Hope you're all ready to meet the new member to our crew.

Clown Reader, walks back stage and pulls a paper mask over Kevin's head: Alright, Kev! This is your first show. If you be good, we can do all tons of stuff together. Remember our number one rule?

Kevin: No biting. No scratching. No eating. Smile and wave

Clown Reader: Wonderful! Well, we can't keep them waiting any longer

[Clown Reader leads Kevin outside who immediately side eyes a literal puppet, pointing at its sockets before pointing down at it. The puppet silently sinks below the table.]

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #clown reader #yandere text #yandere drabble #kevin my oc

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daikenkki · 2 years

Photo

#Thomas and Friends #Merlin #Hiro #Timothy #Sidney #Winston #Stephen #Connor #Caitlin #Gator #Den #Dart #Luke #Glynn #Kevin #Victor #Philip #Paxton #Hurricane #Frankie #Ashima

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

White Flag

Find my CoD Masterlist

This was supposed to be a good day. You were on a date, it was a beautiful day outside, everything was fine.

And then you got grabbed as a hostage. The upside? You get rescued by a very handsome sergeant.

Warnings: Violence, canon-typical violence, hostage situation, non-graphic injuries, dead bodies.

Word count: 5k

You were pretty sure this ranked as the worst date you’d ever been on.

The guy (Kevin, his name was Kevin) had been nice enough. Coffee had been fine. The walk in the park had been pleasant, although that had as much to do with the nice weather as anything else.

The crazy people who brandished guns at everyone in the park and killed half a dozen people before rounding up the rest of you to shove into vans… Well. That kind of ruined the rest of the date.

Kevin had been taken too, although he wasn’t with you. The hostages (because that’s what you were now, hostages) had been split into two groups, and Kevin had been with the other group.

You had no idea if you’d ever see him again. If he was okay.

But honestly, you didn’t have much brain power to spend on him. Because your group had been rounded up into a warehouse, tied to chairs, and left there. The inside of the warehouse was hot and sticky, and the addition of fifteen bodies (ten hostages and five men with guns) quickly made the space nearly unbearably hot and smelly. A few of the hostages were weeping quietly, one not so quietly.

At least until he got pistol whipped. Then he shut up, staring vacantly into space.

Your captors honestly didn’t seem very interested in talking to you. Which was probably a good thing. You were feeling a little… floaty. Disconnected. Not all there. Your captors spoke quietly to each other in some language you couldn’t identify.

There really wasn’t anything for you to do. Which didn’t actually help with the terror or the tingling in your fingers or the panic. But it did help with the floaty feeling. As in, you stayed in the floaty feeling for a while.

Until you heard the first gunshots.

“Silence!” one of the captors hissed at the group when someone started screaming. Motioning with his gun, he seemed to send two of the other guards outside. Leaving three of them standing, two between the hostages and the front door, one in back.

And then nothing. Quiet. For long enough that two of the captors started to get antsy, shifting their weight and looking around.

You honestly couldn’t say how long the tense silence lasted, how long you sat with your heart in your throat, how long you waited.

But there were no gunshots when the two guards dropped, just blood and bodies. The last captor barely had a chance to swing his weapon around in a wild arc before he, too, dropped dead to the ground.

And then two new men walked in, wearing vests and carrying weaponry. You noticed the British flag on both of them and blinked, just once.

“Clear,” the one with the mutton chops said, lowering his weapon.

“Clear,” the other agreed. “Everyone remain calm, we’ll have you out of here soon,” he said, looking briefly at each of you. You blinked slowly when brown eyes met your own.

They each started on a hostage, getting people free in no time. “Emergency services are right outside,” brown eyes said, helping one woman to her feet.

You blinked again. Huh. Somehow the fact that you were safe hadn’t really hit yet. Was this what shock felt like? Or were you just… slow?

Half-way through the group, both men paused and exchanged looks.

“Go, Cap,” brown eyes said. “I’ve got them.”

“Stay sharp,” mutton chops murmured, clapping his friend briefly on the shoulder before he turned and left, sneaking out a side door you hadn’t even noticed before.

Brown eyes worked a little slower on his own, but not much. He still helped each person to their feet. Seven down. The eighth hostage needed no help, rushing out of the warehouse as fast as he could go.

And then you saw his gaze dart between you and the woman next to you.

“Get her,” you said softly. Your fingers were numb and your tongue felt thick, but you knew he understood you. He nodded once and stepped up to her, cutting her bonds. This close, you could hear him murmuring to her.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice soothing. “Just follow the others out, yeah? And then straight on to the medics.”

The woman nodded, lips trembling, blonde hair in total disarray. She did need a hand up, and she whispered her gratitude almost too softly for you to hear before she, too, left.

Leaving just you and him.

“Alright?” he asked you, still in that low, soothing murmur.

“Just peachy,” you croaked. Feeling was returning to your fingers with a vengeance now that your hands were free, and you half-way wished it wouldn’t. The pins and needles were very unpleasant. But you staggered to your feet unassisted.

"I'll walk you out," he offered, one hand tucking under your elbow.

"Thanks." You licked your lips, glancing down at the nearest body. Blood had pooled around him, a dark stain on the concrete floor.

"Don't look." Your savior tugged your arm a little, frowning when you looked at him.

"I'm not about to freak out on you," you assured him, voice still a little scratchy. "Don't worry about me."

He eyed you curiously, but never had a chance to ask the question you could see lurking in his eyes. His eyes went wide and he pulled you in close, throwing his arm up over both of your heads just as something hit the outside of the building. There was a loud noise, then cracking and shrieking of metal as part of the roof collapsed. Chunks of concrete hit the floor around you two, and you both lurched to one side.

A second explosion rocked the floor, and you tried to scramble for the door. But a third explosion caused a cave-in: the doorway crumbled and fell, and part of the floor gave way.

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing desperately for you. "Fuck!"

You grabbed him with one hand, your other scrambling for something to hold on to.

But the floor beyond you gave way, and you had a moment of horror before the floor fell away beneath the two of you.

Then there was only darkness.

You came to with a low groan, head throbbing. Your whole body ached, warning you against moving. And you wouldn't have.

Except you realized you couldn't hear anything from your new friend.

Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you sat up slowly. Yup. Everything still hurt. But you could move! At least this much.

And you could see your friend, laying on his back just a foot away from you.

"Hey." Your voice was paper thin and raspy. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Hey!"

But he didn't move. You could see him breathing, which blocked some of the panic, but otherwise… nothing.

Okay. Okay. You needed to check on him, see if there was anything you could do to help. You were not first aid trained, but you remembered some rule about not moving people with head injuries in case of spinal trauma, or something like that. So. No dragging him to you. You had to go to him.

The space you were in now was only barely lit - it looked like light was filtering down from where the floor used to be. Which was now a pile of rubble. Honestly, it looked like you two had gotten lucky to not get squished, having landed in a mostly clear spot.

So you took a deep breath and tried to drag yourself closer on your hands.

Your howl of agony probably should have woken him, but he remained stubbornly unconscious.

Panting, blinking away tears of pain and shock, you looked down at yourself. And then slammed your eyes shut.

No. No no no. This couldn't be happening. No.

Gasping, a little dizzy, you hung your head and clenched your teeth. No. It wasn't that bad. It was fine. You'd be fine. But you still needed to check on him. You needed to remain calm until rescue arrived. That's all. You'd be fine.

You opened your eyes again but refused to look down at yourself. Instead you twisted your upper body as carefully as you could, checking the distance between you and your friend. Okay. You could just… swivel a bit and reach him. Okay. No big deal.

But you still had to move very carefully, being extra careful not to move your leg at all. You gave yourself a minute to rest once you'd done that, just breathing and staring at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Okay. Checking him over. You could do this.

A visual inspection showed nothing. No injuries. No blood.

You were hesitant to check his head, but you did at least look. There was some blood under his head, but not a ton. And he was still breathing, so…

That was about the extent of what you could do.

You balanced your weight on one hand, reaching over to tap his cheek with one finger. "Hey. Wake up. Please wake up."

But nothing. He remained unconscious.

You hung your head again, pressing your hand over your mouth. Okay. It was fine. The lady who'd gone out ahead of you knew you were still in here. Someone would come to check the building. It would be fine. Someone would come rescue the two of you.

Okay. You could do this. You could be patient. You could keep an eye on him.

A burst of noise and static caught your attention, and you frowned. Where had that come from? You didn't see anything around you, nothing electronic… The noise came again and you swung your gaze back to your friend.

There was a radio on his vest.

You scrambled for the radio and traced the wire up to his ear, very carefully removing it and cleaning it off before sticking it in your own ear.

"Gaz, how copy?" The man on the other end sounded stiff, almost angry.

Gaz must be your new friend. You swallowed, studying the radio for a moment before you found the button that would let you talk to them. "He's unconscious," you said, voice a little shakier than you liked.

For a moment, there was absolute silence. You almost feared the radio hadn't worked.

"Who is this?" Now he sounded pissed, voice a low growl.

You swallowed again but gave him your first name. "He was with me when the floor gave out. He was trying to get me out."

Silence again, long enough this time that your hands started shaking. You didn't take your gaze off of Gaz, watching him breathe.

"Okay," the man said, speaking a little more gently now. "Where are you?"

"Under the warehouse." You didn't look up again. You couldn't.

"What's your situation?" His calm was helping you, slowing your breathing.

"Um. He's not waking up, I haven't moved him. He's not bleeding anywhere except his head, and that's already stopped. I haven't moved him."

"Good," he rumbled. "And you?"

You stalled for a moment mentally. "I'm… holding together." You clenched your jaw to keep back the probably hysterical giggle that wanted to burst out.

"I need you to inform me if you start to feel dizzy, light headed, anything like that. Can you do that?" He kept his voice steady and calm.

You breathed deeply and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

"Good. Stay where you are, do not attempt to climb out yourself."

"Not a chance," you agreed, maybe only a little hysterical. You swallowed hard. Twice. "Staying put right here."

"Good. I'll update you when I can. Stay calm. We will get you out. Copy?"

"Copy." You let the radio fall to your lap. Your fingers were numb, but you couldn't tell if that was cold, blood loss, or shock.

Whatever it was, you didn't have the mental capacity to deal with it. You just focused on breathing for a little bit.

And then you tried tapping Gaz's cheek again. "Hey," you murmured, leaning very carefully down closer to him. "I'd really like it if you woke up, buddy."

He still didn't wake. Your next exhale came out shaky and wet.

"You should have just left," you whispered to him. "You didn't need to walk me out, you know." You huffed something close to a laugh. "I'd say I'd have been fine, but I probably wouldn't have been." You touched his cheek again gently, frowning just a little.

You had nothing but time at the moment so you distracted yourself by studying him. He was handsome, very much so. You thought you remembered that he had kind eyes, too.

But you really just wanted him to wake up. Any time now.

The radio crackled and you flinched at the sudden noise. "We're working on digging you out," came the man's voice, steady and calm. "I need you to watch for any shifting in the debris above you."

"Okay," you agreed, licking your lips. "Got it." You tipped your head back, watching above you. You could hear the scrape and shift of concrete and metal now, sending your heart pounding faster. But nothing moved above you, only bits of dust falling through the cracks.

Gaz groaned softly and you immediately dropped your gaze to him, one hand fluttering over his chest.

"Easy does it," you murmured, watching him anxiously. "Don't try to get up yet."

His eyes fluttered a few times before he finally opened them fully, looking up at you. "What…?" He blinked slowly.

"We fell," you told him, hand pressing lightly on his chest. "Your friends are working on getting us out, but I need you to stay still."

He was quiet for a few moments, looking at you. "Okay," he agreed, a little hoarse.

Dust filtered down to the two of you, and you wrenched your gaze up, a little panicked. But everything looked okay, nothing looked in danger of moving.

Honestly, you weren't sure how comforting that actually was, considering at least some of that stuff would have to move in order for you and Gaz to get out.

"Watch that block," Gaz piped up, nearly giving you a heart attack. But you spotted the one he was concerned about and frowned, eyeing the pieces around it.

His worry proved to be completely founded when that chunk started sliding as something else was moved.

"Wait," you yipped, briefly scrambling for the radio. "Hang on, there's a piece shifting down here."

"Where?"

"Uh." You eyed the distance, frowning. "Maybe four feet to my left? It's a big piece, maybe two feet by six feet, rebar sticking out of it."

There was a soft grunt. "I see it," he agreed. "Keep an eye on it."

You swallowed but watched. That piece shifted a bit, and then slowly lifted up and out of place. You breathed out slowly, the new gap allowing more light into the space. You refused to look down at yourself, instead taking the chance to look at Gaz again.

"Is that Price?" He asked softly when you looked at him.

"I dunno," you answered honestly. "He didn't give me a name."

"Give me the radio." He held out one hand with a little smile. "Won't move yet, I promise."

You hesitated for a moment but handed over the radio, cleaning off the earpiece for him. His eyes crinkled with his smile, and you couldn't help but smile in return, though you were sure yours was small and shaky in comparison.

"Cap," Gaz said. Then he huffed a little laugh. "Not broken yet, sir."

You looked away, slumping forward to give yourself a little break. Twisting that way had done nothing for your ribs, and you still ached everywhere. But at least breathing was no problem.

"Think I'm alright," Gaz said from behind you. Then he huffed. "Alright, yeah, apart from the concussion."

Right. Concussion. You wouldn't be surprised if you had one of those too. The whole falling through the floor thing tended to not be kind to bodies.

"Right. We'll sit tight here then." Gaz sounded amused so things couldn't be that awful.

"Just have to wait for rescue?" You asked, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

"Pretty much." His eyes closed again and he breathed slowly. "You doing alright?"

"As well as can be expected." You breathed in slowly, lifting your gaze to the rubble above the two of you again. "Not exactly how I expected today to go."

He chuckled quietly. "I bet." One of his hands touched your arm, and you looked back at him to find compassionate eyes already fixed on you. "You're doing really well. Being very brave."

You smiled, lifting your hand to take his. "Oh, I'm definitely still freaking out, but I couldn't freak out and keep an eye on you."

He laughed quietly. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared, just means you're not letting that stop you."

"Well, you'd know better than I would." You squeezed his hand gently. "How are you feeling? Really."

"Head is killing me," he admitted easily, eyes closing again. "Don't think there's anything else wrong, though. Everything hurts, which means I can feel everything."

"Well that's one way to find a silver lining." You licked your lips. "You're gonna take time to recover after this, right? Concussions are no joke, and you were unconscious for a while."

His hand squeezed yours, thumb rubbing across your skin. It was… incredibly soothing, actually. "I promise," he agreed. "Captain will make sure of it."

"Good. I'm glad." You winced when another piece of rubble shifted and then lifted away.

"You have anyone to help you? After this?"

"Physically or mentally?" You asked, aiming for glib but hitting melancholy.

"Both." His tone shifted to something a little more soothing.

You swallowed and shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I live alone. But it's fine, work will let me take a little time off for this."

His hand tightened around yours. "You should give me your number."

"What?" You blinked, looking back at him, eyes wide.

"So we can keep each other company while we're recovering." He smiled up at you, eyes crinkling, warm and almost fond.

"That sounds like the concussion talking." You leaned back to get closer to him, concerned.

"It's not." He lifted his free hand, hesitating before he touched your cheek, feather light. "It's okay if you don't want to. But I'd love to talk to you more." He grinned suddenly. "Especially when we're not both stuck somewhere."

You huffed a little laugh, leaning your cheek very carefully into his hand. "If you still want my number when we're out of here, I'll give it to you," you agreed.

"I'll hold you to that." He rubbed his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. This was probably a terrible idea, but it had been a terrible day and you wanted something comforting. Right at that moment, Gaz was your only option. Then his hand left your cheek and you blinked your eyes open to see him press on his radio. "Copy. How long do you think?"

You sat up again, clearing your throat. The hole up above you was bigger now, but still not big enough to get out of. They were definitely making progress though, and you'd take it.

"Rog. We're alright here." His hand squeezed yours, a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. And a less than comforting reminder that nobody else was aware of your full situation just yet.

"Good news?" You asked, forcing yourself to keep watching the hole in the ceiling.

"They're pausing to assess the rubble," Gaz admitted. "But Price doesn't think it will be a long delay."

"Okay." You breathed in deep and then carefully laid back, keeping hold of Gaz's hand.

"Tired?"

"A bit." You shrugged, grimacing at the feel of grit under your shoulders. "What's your favorite color?"

"What?" He sounded startled.

"I need something to distract me, and at the moment you're it. Plus you're not supposed to sleep after a concussion like that, right? So really I'm doing us both a favor." You tipped your head to shoot him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled. "And that's the best you could come up with?"

"You got a better suggestion?"

"Yeah." He shifted carefully so he could meet your gaze more easily. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"I'm not that interesting," you demurred, warming and looking away.

"I don't care." He squeezed your hand, tugging gently until you looked at him again. "Tell me whatever you're comfortable with."

You blinked but started speaking, quietly, slowly at first. But the lack of judgment from him made you more comfortable. And he asked good questions, keeping you talking.

At least until someone called down to the two of you.

"Doin' alright down there?" This voice was new, with a Scottish accent.

"We're good," Gaz called back. "Thirsty, though."

"We're almost ready to come get you," the Scot said, sounding amused. "Won't be long."

You breathed out slowly. You should say something. You should tell them. They were going to find out sooner or later, as soon as they sent someone down for the two of you. You needed to tell them.

"Hey, hey," Gaz murmured, alarmed. "Sweetheart. Look at me."

Your eyes opened - when had you even closed them? Your breath hitched when you looked at Gaz, concern writ large on his face.

"It's okay. It'll be okay. They're almost to us, yeah? We won't be here much longer." He tugged your hand, linking his fingers with yours. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched again, and you realized with dim surprise that you were crying. And had been for at least a minute, based on the dampness of your cheeks. "I… can't."

"What?" He sat up a little and then froze. Completely froze. Then he swallowed, hard enough you could see his Adam's apple bob. "Oh, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes again, holding tight to his hand as the panic resurfaced. This was so bad, you knew it was so bad, but you'd been doing so well at not thinking about it.

"Captain, we have a problem." Gaz had steadied his voice, at least.

But his captain didn't respond on the radio as you'd expected. "What kind of problem?" He sounded closer than you expected, and a quick peek up showed that he was crouching near the edge of the hole.

"She's got a piece of rebar through her calf," Gaz replied. "Mid-way down. Goes all the way through."

"Fucking hell." Price shifted his weight, coming a little nearer to the edge. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

You swallowed hard. "Couldn't," you muttered, hoping Gaz would pass along the message for you. But you couldn't make your voice any louder. "There was nothing I could do and I couldn't think about it without freaking out."

Gaz did indeed relay your words, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your hand.

Price exhaled hard. "We'll figure it out when we get down there," he decided. "Twenty minutes."

"Copy that." Gaz didn't release you, instead scooting over closer to you. "Hear that? They're almost ready. We'll make sure you get out of here. Okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, voice small. A deep breath and you were able to nod. "But you better not be doing anything to aggravate your head."

"I'm not," he soothed. "Can you sit up for me?"

You sniffled once but sat up, refusing to let go of his hand. He didn't even try, just smiling at you.

"There we go." His free hand lifted to your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "How do you feel?"

You gave the question a moment of thought. "Tired. Sore." You glanced down at your leg and immediately away again. "Scared."

He wordlessly tucked your head down against his shoulder. "We'll be okay," he whispered, like if he believed it hard enough he could bend the universe to his will. "We both will."

You sat there quietly, soaking up the comfort he freely offered, starting to shiver a little. You had no idea what time it was, and big lights had been set up above, so you had no natural light to work off of. But the temperature was dropping.

Either that or you were still losing blood, which was a very scary possibility.

"Coming down," Price called. You opened your eyes to watch him come down a rope, landing in a clear spot near your feet. Oh. He was muttonchops from earlier in the day. He looked between the two of you before he moved next to Gaz, kneeling. "Sitrep?"

"I'm alright," Gaz murmured. "Head hasn't fallen off yet."

"Cheeky." But Price's lips twitched in a smile. "We'll get you up first."

"No."

Price paused, raising one eyebrow at Gaz's blunt refusal. Some form of communication passed between the two, although you couldn't follow it. But it ended with Price blowing out a breath through his nose and nodding once. Then he stood and moved down by your feet, examining your leg and the piece of rebar. "Have you tried moving?"

It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. "Only once." You shrugged.

He nodded, brow pulled into a tight furrow as he leaned further down. "Right." He sat back on his heels. "Soap, bring down the bolt cutters."

Another man joined you three in the hole, mohawk a bit disheveled and dusty. "Alright?" He asked, smiling easily at you.

"Oh, you know," you managed, flapping one hand.

He just nodded and crouched down next to Price, handing over the bolt cutters.

"Hey," Gaz whispered, tugging your hand gently. "Don't look at them. Focus on me, yeah?"

"Okay." You swallowed but obediently kept your gaze on him, trying not to listen to the quiet discussion taking place by your feet. "What are you going to do with your unplanned vacation?"

He smiled a little. "I've got a few ideas," he murmured. "There's this girl, yeah? Don't know her well yet but I'd love to spend time getting to know her." He winked at you.

You laughed a little, feeling heat rush to your face. "I dunno, she could be some crazy person."

"I don't think so." His gaze was warm as he smiled at you, leaning in a little closer. "She might be lacking a sense of self-preservation, though."

"You… might be right." You dropped your gaze, feeling shaky again. Your sharp inhale had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with your leg moving as the rebar was cut loose from the cement below.

"That part's done," Price said, probably a little louder than he needed to. "Next step is getting you up there."

You eyed the rope warily. "I hope you've got a plan."

"You won't have to do anything," Price assured you. "We'll get a harness on you and hoist you up."

"Joy." But your voice wavered, and you held Gaz's hand too tightly. He smoothed his thumb over your knuckles.

"They've got you, sweetheart," he murmured. "Promise."

"Okay." You took a deep breath and nodded once.

Truthfully, you had to do very little. They worked together to get the harness on you, and Soap steadied you as you were hoisted up. More hands grabbed you at the top, and you barely had time to wince in pain before you were on a stretcher.

"Wait," you begged the paramedic before he could start to move the stretcher. "I want to make sure my friend gets up okay."

His gaze softened and he nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "But I'm gonna move you back here out of the way, don't need anyone bumping into you."

You nodded, watching eagerly until Gaz appeared. He was a little pale but otherwise okay, and he even managed to get to the stretcher partially under his own power.

Relieved, you relaxed back against your stretcher and nodded. Okay. You were satisfied.

It wasn't until sometime the next day as you were waking up properly for the first time since you'd gone into surgery that you remembered you were supposed to give him your phone number.

Not that you actually had time to mourn the loss of… whatever that may have been. The nurse had just left after checking on you when there was a knock on the door, and then it swung open slowly.

Gaz absolutely beamed at you from his spot in a wheelchair, Soap behind him pushing him further in.

"You're here," you whispered, eyes wide, one hand reaching for him without permission.

"Price insisted on overnight observation," Gaz said, taking your hand as soon as he was close enough. "Since I was unconscious for a while."

"And you're okay?" You looked him over quickly, biting your lip.

"I will be." He leaned closer, his other hand covering yours.

"Good." You relaxed a little, smiling finally. "That's good."

"Shout when you need a lift," Soap said, tapping Gaz's shoulder before backing towards the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And he was gone, cackling, before Gaz could properly turn around to glare at him.

You huffed a laugh, leaning closer to him. "I'm glad you're okay," you whispered, a bit abashed.

"I'm glad you'll be okay." He closed the distance, leaning in until he could press his forehead to yours.

"Yeah." You smiled. "I will be." It was the first time you'd really believed that since you'd been grabbed in the park.

You knew exactly how you wanted to thank the reason for your confidence, too.

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #f!reader

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judeswhore · 1 year

Note

can you write a spencer blurb with the the prompt number 19 from this list please?

i know i said i wasn’t writing anymore but i’m just gna do little blurbs like this whenever i’m bored of uni :)

prompt: what the hell are we doing in this closet? why did you drag me in here? why are you so close? why do i want you to be closer?

heading down the corridor towards penelope’s bat cave you were more than a little surprised to find spencer lingering outside her door, his body situated so he could see through the small gap. the closer you got the louder the voices inside became, one most definitely that of your most favourite technical analyst and the other questionably belonging to kevin lynch. your brows rose, an amused smirk curling your lips at spencer’s so obvious snooping.

“what’re you up to, reid?” he jumped at the sound of your voice, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights as he blinked those innocent eyes at you. he straightened up just slightly, brushed his hands down his trousers and gave a little shrug.

“nothing.”

“are you spying on penelope?”

“what? no! i was just-“ he shook his head with a deep frown, waving his hand in a desperate gesture for you to lower your voice as he stepped away from the door and closer to you.

“spying.”

“i’m not-will you be quiet?” it was hard not to grin, the flush rising up spencer’s cheeks making him all the more adorable and pulling at the deepest parts of you. he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, gaze darting to the slightly ajar door. the inside had gone quiet, suspiciously so and as quickly as spencer’s cheeks had turned pink they drained of all colour.

“ooo, dr reid i think you’ve been caught.” despite your words you had lowered your tone to a whisper although maybe a little too late but before penelope could catch you, spencer had his hand on your waist. he pushed you back, his free hand reaching behind you and before you could fully register what was happening he was shoving you into the dark storage closet just opposite penelope’s office.

your back hit a metal shelf, cold through the light material of your blouse and you yelped. “spencer, what the-“ the rest of your curse was muffled by his hand, large as it covered your mouth, warm and slightly calloused against the skin of your lips.

“shush.” his words hardly mattered, you were stunned into silence anyway by the press of his body against yours and the feel of his hand against your skin. he was so close you could smell his cologne, something woodsy and warm, and could feel his breath tickle over your forehead when he let out a deep sigh. he kept one hand firm on your waist, his print burning into your skin and you wondered momentarily if you’d find some sort of permanent mark when you looked later that evening.

despite there being no light, spencer was close enough that you could make out every feature on his face, could see the flicker of interest in his honey eyes when he let them roam your own face. there was a deeper flush to his cheeks now, one that you were sure was due to the way he’d manhandled you into this position, an act that was so not spencer you knew he was flustered about it. stubble was starting to dust his jaw and upper lip, just light enough to only be noticeable this close up and you were startled by your sudden curiosity in what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of your neck.

it was no secret that spencer was pretty, that you found him stupidly attractive but this was the first time in your years of friendship that you’d ever found yourself thinking about more. about the feel of his hands on your bare skin, the heat of his chest against yours, whether his lips would taste like the coffee he’d had on his desk or the mint gum you’d seen in his pocket. the gap between you was almost nonexistent but you found yourself wanting to make it smaller, a sudden urge clawing at your insides to find out whether spencer reid was a good kisser.

lowering your gaze from his lips you let your attention linger on the small scar on the edge of his chin, a wound long since healed that you often wondered how he’d gotten it. without thinking you lifted your hand, brushed your thumb over the spot and watched spencer shiver, his body pressing in closer to yours, his head dipping just slightly. the corridor outside was silent, somewhere in your mind you knew penelope and kevin had disappeared back inside the bat cave, you think you heard the click of her lock but the man who’s fingers had subtly shifted beneath the material of your shirt had control of your full attention.

his other hand was still over your mouth and after blinking rapidly he finally pulled it away, the blush returning to his cheeks. his eyes darted from your own down to your lips and back, falling just a little lower to the slightly exposed skin of your boobs before flitting back to your face. his fingers hovered over your cheek, knuckles grazing softly beneath your eye before his thumb brushed feather light over your bottom lip.

spencer held your gaze, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and you weren’t sure when he’d gotten this close, the heat of his mouth only an inch from yours as he let his hand slip around the back of your neck. you hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath, not until it came out in a short gasp when spencer tilted your head back, his thumb on your jaw to guide you. your mind had gone blank, your body pliant against his and there was a brief feeling of embarrassment over how desperate you were for him to press his lips over yours. hidden away in a storage closet wasn’t exactly the most romantic place for a first kiss but spencer was looking at you in a way no one ever had.

his mouth brushed softly over yours, pressed a little heavier over the corner of your lips and you swallowed down a needy whine, tipped yourself further into his touch but spencer made no move to kiss you properly yet. he swallowed thickly, his usual spencer awkwardness starting to return as he blinked through the fog in his head.

“can-“ he cleared his throat, pulled back a little so he could meet your eyes, needing to be sure of your answer. he was blushing again and you were sure this was the most you’d seen him flustered before. “can i kiss you?” his words were hesitant as if he hadn’t already wound you so tightly around his little finger.

“god, yes.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #sinclaiirs baby blurbs #leigh’s baby blurbs

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zzoguri · 3 months

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hyunjae did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hyunjae you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, jacob promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and jacob who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hyunjae that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects? how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as jacob was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

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