#now I don’t think this was the case but if that was actually a confession oh my god my reaction would be so cursed

[romantically-yours]

Thinking about that time in 6th when me and my friend at the time were just casually talking about how oh when we grow up we should just move to the French countryside together

[posh--bee]

hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.

warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)

word count → 5.2k

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.

You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.

Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.

The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.

What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.

But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.

“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”

Oh. That’s right.

His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.

You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.

The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.

When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.

With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.

With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.

You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.

Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.

And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.

You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.

You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.

Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.

So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.

But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.

You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.

You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.

“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”

You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.

“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.

“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.

“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”

Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.

“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”

“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”

You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.

“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.

“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”

The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.

You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.

So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.

“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”

Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.

The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.

You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.

Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.

You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.

With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”

You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.

The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.

You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.

“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”

You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.

“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”

The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.

“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”

The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.

You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.

“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”

As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.

“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"

“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”

You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  

You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.

You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.

You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise you won’t tell?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

“What was our first date?” He asked.

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

“What else have we done together?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom, how did you know…”

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

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t pick my nails!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And whose fault is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you figure it out?”

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

“Three.”

“Three what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never did.

[becomingmina]

thanks for the clarification ♡

so here is the thought I had

hyunjin and reader being each other's crush but absolutely idiotic about it so they don't know the other's feelings

they have common friends that are sick of the tension between the two. one decides to tell hyunjin, the other suggests the reader to do something to make hyunjin jealous so she can find out if he likes her. (boring I know)

one time when everyone's around, she flirts with jisung or something idk and she gets too touchy so hyunjin is annoyed af. pulls her away to somewhere private and voila, they've confessed in the best way possible 😌🌸

CRUSH. anon request w/ HYUNJIN.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hyunjin x female reader genre + warnings: friends to lovers, smut mdni!, oral (both f & m receiving), hyunjin calls reader kitten, semi-public wc: 5.4k mina's note: Anon also wanted to throw ‘kitten’ in it (my fav pet name 👀) Also I really enjoyed writing this & love how much details you put on the request!! My box is open for feedback 💓

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

You don’t know how you got in this situation but here you are; staring at your friend who is currently playing basketball, topless. Well, you’re more like drooling over him.

He just looked so good, so hot. His tall, lean, milky body just running around on the court covered in a thin layer of sweat. Normally you hate the thought of sweat, but it works for him. It works well for Hwang Hyunjin, actually. He even looks like he smells nice too. You watch as he laughs at the other players, hogging the ball like the main character in some high school drama. Your eyes waver from his pretty smile to his muscular arms to his piercing, which is sitting so perfectly under his eyebrow, then to his burgundy hair.

You pay attention the beads of sweat that trickles from his hair to his chest, dripping down his body. You gulped when you see them land on the area just underneath his belly button. You completely loss your sanity as your eyes covered that area. His treasure trail? Happy trail? Whatever people called it. Why was it so sexy on Hyunjin?

You quickly look away before anyone catches you; you shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Hyunjin is your friend.

When you meet him two years ago in your first year of college, he was just some guy in class you become friends with. He is good looking, but you didn’t find him attractive. There was no chemistry, no tension, no feelings. You don’t know how it started but you find yourself thinking about him every other hour of the day now. You would freeze when someone else mentions his name, blush when he was in close proximity of you and even stutter when he speaks to you.

“Hey.. Hey Y/N,” a voice snapping you out of your thoughts, followed by a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You answered, unaware of who was even calling out to you. You turn your head and there he was, your crush Hwang Hyunjin crouching down next to you, smiling at your blank reaction. You’re used to him towering over you since he was way taller than you but to have him crouched down like this looking at you makes you feel a bit.. timid.

“I’m going to borrow this,” he says dangling your fresh hand towel in-front of you. Oh yeah, the hand towel you carry around in your bag just in case your physical education professor makes you participate in class. The one you won’t let anyone use or even touch.

When they say having a crush makes you do crazy stuff, they do mean it. You were quick to lean him it.

“Huh.. uhh yeah, sure,” you answered, eyes travelling from your towel to his face again.

When you realised you’ve been staring at him longer than you should have, you cough and drop eye contact, making Hyunjin gulped a little bit too loud. “I don’t need it anyways you can keep—”

“—I’ll return it,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wash it first of-course.” You nod your head quietly as you gather up your belongings, getting ready to go to your next class.

“Come on Hyunjin, we are going to be late for class!” Chan, the oldest out of the friend group, calls out to him.

“So.. I’ll see you at lunch then?” Hyunjin says after noticing your quietness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” you mumbled, shooting him a quick glance.

“Bye bro,” Hyunjin says to Minho, giving him a handshake before collecting his bag and going off with Chan.

Minho chuckles at the scene that just unfolded in-front of him; two of his best friends obviously crushing on one another but no one is making a move. Well, it’s not really you and Hyunjin’s fault since you guys don’t know about the other person’s feelings.

“You know he likes you right?” Minho blurted out and you turn your head to his direction.

“Who?” You answered nervously. Did Minho just witness everything?

“Hyunjin,” Minho replies with raised eyebrows, his smug a little bit too cocky for your liking today. You rolled your eyes at him but underneath your skin, you are hot, flustered, embarrassed.

“No way!” you denied. Hyunjin could never like you, he only saw you as a friend.

“He does—”

You scoffed a little bit too fast.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you Y/N?” You can’t tell if Minho was being serious or not.

Minho does have a history of being a joker which makes you think he’s just pranking you. But he also is a very honest friend, he would never joke around with stuff that could potentially hurt you.

“Uhhhh—” you hesitantly reply.

Minho takes in a loud breath, “—I don’t know if you’re genuinely dense or you just don’t want to admit it.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you answered.

“He does,” Minho turns his head behind to look at Hyunjin and you followed. You watch as the two made their way across the field, Chan wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to snatch your towel away from him.

“Oh, you don’t want to give it to me because that’s your girl’s towel?” Chan laughs, basically choking Hyunjin at this point.

“She’s.. she’s not.. my girl..” Hyunjin softly replies in a cough, not sure if he was actually being choked by Chan’s big arms or by choking up at you being called his girl.

“She’s not your girl.. yet?” The older boy teased.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin questioned, hoping Chan didn’t see through him.

Chan looked back at you and Minho who was still sitting by the basketball court. You swiftly turn back to Minho, hoping Chan didn’t catch you starring at Hyunjin.

“Trust me,” Minho said with his smug face, raising his brow to the older boy across the field. “You know how to tell if he likes you?”

You stay quiet. You were curious but didn’t want to seem like it, so you just raised your eyebrow. Tell me, tell me Lee Minho!

“Make him jealous,” Minho says lifting his chin to Jisung who was currently surrounded by a group of girls shoving their gym towel into his face.

You know what Minho was referring to; that’s how Felix ended up with Nayeon. Minho suggested to Nayeon to make Felix jealous by sitting next to Jisung at some dinner since he was such a girl magnet. Next thing you know she was pulled away from the table by Felix and they have been together ever since.

You scoffed. It sure worked for them, but you weren’t going to use Jisung like that; he was your friend.

“I’m not going to use Han-Ji like that,” you replied.

“Okay look..” he blinks a little too hard at you. “Just use Han-Ji.. He is also as tired as we all are of you and Hyunjin’s….” He pauses. “..tension..”

“Who is we?” You asked confused.

Who else has been noticing your little crush on Hyunjin? Is what you really wanted to ask your best friend, but you don’t.

“..And there’s no tension between me and Hyunjin.. I don’t know what you talking about,” deny deny deny.

“Everyone in the friend group can feel the tension, you idiot,” the nickname causing you to pout. “Felix, Bin, Min, Lia—”

“—Hyunjin doesn’t like me.”

“Bet?” He was too quick with this. “I’ll let you have bragging rights if he doesn’t like you. But I get the bragging rights if he does,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Both of them sound bad to you. Why would you be happy with bragging rights if Hyunjin doesn’t like you back? It would sting you! And if by chance Hyunjin likes you back, you would hate to deal with Minho’s telling the whole campus he was cupid. What the hell was Minho on?

“What?” He laughed after noticing your face, full of displeasure. “I mean, the worst that could happen is he doesn’t like you back.. But then that means you get bragging rights?” Minho laughs tilting his head to the side. He can read you well.

“Dude you’re insufferable!” You rolled your eyes. He was still looking at you with his smirk.. Oh wait. “What do you mean like me back? I don’t like him,” you denied, it but wasn’t fast enough, he had caught you.

“Sure.. I know everything. Come on, trust me. I’m your best friend,” Minho nudges your shoulders. “Remember the party this weekend? How you rather sit at home and do nothing. Well maybe you should just come. We haven’t seen you out in a while.. Come, and be prettier than this..” he says looking down at your gym wear. You were in baggy sweat shorts and an even baggier t-shirt. “And I’ll help you get with him-”

“—Hey!” you shove his shoulder back. “What’s wrong with me now?!” You look down at your attire. It was gym class anyways of course you would be in this, even if you don’t participate.

“What? Nothing,” he answers playfully. “Come on, we going to be late to our next class!” Minho gets up before opening up his hand to help you up.  “Han-ji, we’re late!”

It was lunch time and you and Han-Ji ditched Minho to go down to the college’s local bakery to get some lunch.

“You’re totally not coming to the party?” Minho asked Hyunjin who was sat at the lunch table, eating his huge burrito. Seungmin, Felix and Chan were also there chiming into the conversation.

“Who’s going?” Hyunjin asked, a mouth full.

“Just the usual.. us. So, Chris, Bin, Jeongin, Yeji.. and then half of the third years are invited,” Hyunjin doesn’t look too interested. Don’t get the wrong idea, he loves his friends and parties, but he had also seen them every single day on campus, so he had no fear of missing out.

“…oh and Y/N says she’s going to come too,” Minho blurted, playing full attention to his friends reaction.

Hyunjin’s ears perks up at your name, his cheeks suddenly growing pink as he looks back at Minho.

“Actually.. I’ll come. Haven’t been had fun in a while,” Hyunjin drops the eye contact when he notices Minho’s sneer. “You want me to bring anything?” Hyunjin continues a little twitchy, playing with his food.

Minho just laughs. This was getting too exciting for him. “Bring your courage!” The rest of the boys laughed.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes at the crowd.

“You like Y/N, don’t you?” Seungmin exclaimed catching Hyunjin by surprised.

“Umm...” Hyunjin freezes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Of course, he likes you, but he didn’t want to admit knowing the boys were definitely going to tease him even more for it. But he didn’t want to say no just in case they spin it around to say he doesn’t like you at all as a friend.  

“Don’t worry bro, she likes you too,” Minho break the silence. Hyunjin’s heart stop at his best friend’s words. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that.

“Really? She likes me back?” Hyunjin replies promptly, a sheer smile pulling on his face. He was definitely blushing.  

“Back.. So you do like her?” Chan torments Hyunjin again and Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded form his face. They had caught him too.   

“Hey Y/N!” Felix calls out and the rest of the boys look over Hyunjin’s shoulder. He wanted to spin back to check but he didn’t want the boys to play more into his eagerness, so he just freezes looking straight at them.

“Hi Lix!” Your voice calls from behind him.

“Come here! Hurry!” Felix continues to make conversation with you.

“Bro just ask her out already, we’re all tired of the tension,” Chan quickly expresses.

“What tension?” Hyunjin was desperate to see what they had to say before you got to the table.

“Sexual tension,” Seungmin whispers and everyone goes silence, pressing their lips trying to hold back their smile.

“There’s no tension between me and—”

“—Okay you say there’s so tension? I guess Han-Ji can make his move then,” Minho interrupted, surprising Hyunjin again.

“Does Han-Ji likes Y/N—"

“—Shh she’s behind you,” Chan shushes the younger boy up before he could finish his sentence.

“Hey..” Hyunjin says timidly before you could even sit down.

“Hey..” you replied back, climbing over the bench so you can sit next to him. The whole group watches as Hyunjin blushed at your proximity. “Sit here,” you pat the area on the other side of you for Jisung to sit.

“Coffee and pastries for lunch? That place is like a 10 minute walk,” Chan askes from across the table.

“It’s okay, Han-ji keeps me company,” you say as you nudge Jisung a little bit and you both open up your pastry bag.

Hyunjin glances at you from aside, he stays quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t expect his boys to catch on about his feelings for you and he didn’t expect Minho to blurt out that you like him back. Hyunjin is also confused after seeing how close Han-Ji is to you too, he never really questions your close relationship until now. Does Han-Ji actually like you? Thoughts flood his brain as he continues to eat his burrito.  

You rushed home from your last Friday class to get ready for the party. You threw on one of your mini sun dress, pairing it up with some sandals and a cross body bag before collecting your black cardigan and rushing out to Yeji who was ready in the living room waiting to do some pre-party shots with you.

You and Yeji tipsy-ly made it to the loudest house on the street. Lee Minho’s residency. It was only 8pm and it was already crowded. She held your hand and clumsy pulls you through dim-lit hallways packed with people before reaching the living room. There they were, all of your friends in the living room with a drink in their hand, conversing with one another.  

“There they are!” Seungmin yells as he sees you and his girlfriend. He quickly makes his way to rip Yeji off you, pulling her into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Wow, my best friend finally came to one of my parties!” Minho appears out of no where handing you a beer.

“I was here two months ago Min..” You playfully rolled your eyes. “When you and Nayeon vomited everywhere and me and Felix had to bathe you guys.. naked,” you refreshed his memory.

“I remember.. Crazy night..” Minho laughs. He stops to look you up and down before grabbing your shoulders. “Very pretty Y/N. You planning to make someone jealous?” He complimented before getting back to his little mischiefs.

“Maybe,” you answered looking around the room. You hadn’t seen Hyunjin yet and Minho notices.

“Your boy is hella tipsy by the way, he keeps telling me he’s nervous but won’t tell me why,” Minho informs you.

“He’s not my boy.”

“Sure.. okay, anyways so not your boy is currently staring at you from behind,” Minho also announced as he stares at Hyunjin from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s heart stops at your presence. He has always found you pretty but tonight, he found you extremely gorgeous. Maybe because tonight was the night, he was going to let you know about his feelings. He takes another sip of his drink, pondering how he’s going to pull you away. He wanted to find the perfect timing, he didn’t want to do it too early just in case you reject him, and he has to go home early.

He watches you as you make your way to Jisung who was currently sat on the tiniest fucking armchair he had ever seen.

“Han-Ji!” You were going to follow Minho’s instructions; you either leave tonight with Hyunjin or rejected by Hyunjin but with bragging rights.

“Hey Y/N, you look like you had a couple of drinks already,” Jisung says as he touches his owns cheeks to indicate where your pink complexion was. You nodded bashfully to your friend before getting up on the arm of the chair to sit.

“It’s wet there, I just spilled my drink there. Come here,” Jisung stops you before you could sit. He pulled your arm so you can squeeze next to him on the tiny fucking armchair. You hope Hyunjin was watching.

“You okay?” Jisung asks cupping your face to lean your head against his shoulder - he knows how tired you get when you drink.

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes as you continue to converse with your friend.

Hyunjin was still watching everything from the other side of the room. His hand was wrapped around his drink tightly, expressing his annoyance at the skin-ship and at himself for not pulling you away the second you got here, like he wasn’t waiting all night just for you to arrive. He starts to feel a little jealous now that your attention is on Han-Ji. And maybe Minho was right, and Han-Ji does have feelings for you.

He had to do it. He had to pull you away and ask why you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you all this time. He feels himself grow hot, he was feeling tense.

Hyunjin takes in a deep breath before downing the drink, squeezing his cup on the process. The plastic from the red cup causes disturbance making the boys turn their head at their friend.

“You good, pretty boy?” Changbin asks noticing the change in Hyunjin’s demeanour, taking the red cup out of his hand.

“Yeah, just need some air,” Hyunjin says running a hand through his fluffy red hair as he makes his way to you.

“Can we talk?” Someone askes from above you and you instantly open your eyes, locking eyes with them.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you finally see him. He had on some baggy jeans with a black t-shirt, one sleeved rolled up complementing his muscular arm. God, he looked so hot; you feel yourself drooling over him again.

“Okay.” You answered softly.

“Come,” he says, grabbing a hold of your hand making you get up from the chair. You heart start to flutter at his brace. Was it happening now? Is Hyunjin jealous?

He guides you through the crowd of people in the living room before dragging you up the stairs and towards Minho’s bedroom. He lets you enter first before locking the door behind him.

Your eyes wonder around Minho’s bedroom - his room was dark, quite clean, quite quiet for such a loud guy. You scoff to yourself quietly at the contrast. As you spin around the room, Hyunjin watches you and smiles at your cuteness before getting back to his senses of why he pulled you here in the first place.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly.

“Hmm? Not quite yet,” you answered, making your way into Minho’s ensuite. “Why?” You asked so he can follow you, just testing the waters.

You placed your bag on the counter before digging through it trying to find your lipstick.

“What are you doing then?” Hyunjin asked towering behind you looking at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You glance up at him to ask before going through your bag again, acting like you had no idea what was going on, even though your heart was beating just as fast as his.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Yep, he saw everything.

“I wasn’t on him?” You lied.

“Y/N.” He was getting a little be frustrated at your replies, you were obviously up to something.

“Why does it matter to you anyways—”

“—It’s making me jealous.” Hyunjin interrupted you making you glance up at him again. Minho’s plan was working. Minho was right.

You spin around to face him and finally, you can feel the tension everyone was talking about. He likes you. You feel your heart beating rapidly as he stares into your eyes. Your breathing becomes heavier as he takes another step towards you. You try to keep eye contact just to see if he drops it first, but he doesn’t. Your eyes drop first, to his lips then up to his eyes then back to his lips. They looked so full, so soft. Wouldn’t be crazy if you guys just kissed?

“Hyunjin?” You say above a whisper, lips forming into a pout right after. Hyunjin found you so precious looking up at him like this.

His resting face rapidly turns into a smirks now as he watches your eyes flicker to his lips. He knew what you wanted; he knows how you feel now. “Hmm?” He questioned, just to tease you a little bit.

“Can you just kiss me already?” You say, not begging but with a hint of desperation. You like him and you just confirmed he likes you, what were you guys waiting for?

He chuckles before his hand comes up to your face, cupping it for a second then he leans and kisses you. His lips felt so soft, so warm just like how you imagined them felt. You couldn’t explain the feeling, it was like you were in dream, it’s incredible.

Soon Hyunjin deepens the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth as one of his hand keeps your face in place, the other snaked down your body to your waist. Your tongue swiped against his lips, and you tasted a bit of lemonade and tequila. If this was a way to drink tequila, then you were all for it.

“Up,” he pulls away to say and you listen jumping onto the counter with the help of his grip. You spread your legs so he can stand in between them. He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t control his smile.

“You didn’t answer me..” he says as his hands find their way under your dress just resting on your thighs.

“Hm?” You whimpered, wanting his lips back on yours.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Hyunjin asked again, a little lower, a little more raspier now that he’s more confident to dominate you.

“To make you jealous,” you whisper back to him, admitting to all your little shenanigans.

“Why?” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“To see if you like me back.” You say, and his ears perked up at your words.

“You got your answer?”

“Mhmm..” you admit.

“Good.”

“But.. want to hear you say it,” you reply cheekily, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders to pull him close to you so your lips are barely touching.

He lets out an airy breath before pressing a kiss to your lips, letting it linger on for a little bit just to make your heart flutter once more for him. “I like you,” he says, and you try to conceal the smile pulling up on your face. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Where were we?” Hyunjin says and you pull him back onto you.

Maybe it was the pent up sexual tension you both had been holding in as, as soon as your lips were connected again, it became again heated. His hands are fondling with your thighs, and his tongue is slipped back down your mouth. You feel a hot sensation making its way to your core, a moan slipping from your lips. He smirked in between the kisses, his hands inching up higher now hiking you dress up.

Hyunjin continues his kisses down your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting him cover more area with his lips.

As he harshly sucks on your neck, your hands start to explore his body, caressing up and down his chest, down his covered stomach. You slowly creep them lower to his hard on that was pressing against the counter, begging to be touch. He lets out a groan at the contact.

“Hyunjin?” you whimpered at how stiff he was. You both wanted more but not on this cold bathroom counter. “Are we actually doing this here?” You ask.

“Where else would you do it?” Hyunjin looks down at you his a raised eyebrow, his hands stopping at your hips.

You look around before cheekily suggesting, “Minho’s bed,” and he cracks up.

“Come,” he takes a step back to hold your hand as you jump off the counter.

Hyunjin pulls you back onto him as he sat back on Minho’s bed - it was comfier than he expected, it was actually quite comfy to fuck on actually.

“You’re such a good kisser, it making me so horny,” He says, gripping your thighs so you’re straddling him. You feel his hard-on abusing your core and you become like jelly, draping yourself onto him. God, it was also making you so horny.

Are you both really gonna fuck in your best friend’s bed? Probably.

“Hyunjin?” You start to suck on his neck, returning the marks he gave you. “Wanna blow you… can I?” You asked, rolling your hips onto his.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure, halting your hips. “Fuck— kitten..” The pet name slipping from his lips, making you stop whatever you were doing to look him in the eyes. Did he just call you kitten? And did you like it?

“Yeah? Wanna be a good kitten? And suck me off right here in your best-friend room?” He teased after seeing your eyes lit up at the name.

“Yes.. wanna be a good kitten,” you replied, lifting his shirt to slowly to expose his abs, your hand lazily runs across his milky body.

You shuffled back, kneeling down by the bed before peeking at his happy trail. You finally got to see it up close, and you didn’t waste anytime before attaching your lips to it. Hyunjin’s hand flung to hold onto your hair and he lets out a groan as you suck the skin around his navel.

“You’re just like a kitten, nipping into me like that,” he moans.

“You love it,” you teased him.

“Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

“Was it driving you insane?” He torments and you murmured nodding your head.

“God, kitten… need your mouth now, I’m might cum untouched,” he begs and you chuckle, blowing hot air from your mouth at his skin causing him to flinch.

You give him what he wants. You undo his jeans, shimmering it down his thighs before palming him through his boxer.

“Y/N, please..” he begs again, closing his eyes to hold in his release.

“You’re so big,” you say the second you pull down his boxer letting his red rock solid dick slap across his stomach. You didn’t expect him to be him to be this big, this thick. You gulp at it before wrapping your hands around him. “Wanna taste..” you blabbered as you brought his tip to your lips.

Hyunjin’s head kick back as you wrap your lips around his head. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he starts to set the pace, and you let him. He pushes you down taking half his length into your mouth before guiding you back up. You moan as he slides down your mouth, unable to control the pleasure you were having from just giving him head. Once you go match his pace, Hyunjin lets go of his grip and runs his through your hair, endlessly praising you as he tries to keeps himself together.

“You’re so good—” he sucks in another breath.

You take him fully into your mouth and gagged once he hits the back of your throat. “Ahh, cuming- cuming—” he lets out a low grunt as he paints your throat white. You swallow the warm thick liquid before letting go of him with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re so perfect. Such a good mouth,” he says finding your arm and pulling up to sit on his lap.

“Can I return the favour?” His hand wrapped around your hips, his finger carefully gathering the fabric of your skirt so he can expose your panties.

“I don’t know if I can keep quiet Hyunjin,” you admitted. You can still hear the loud music outside, even if it was muffled by the walls but a part of you’re still afraid someone might hear you. You couldn’t even keep it in while making out, nor sucking him off, you don’t know how you’ll be if you guys actually have sex.

“But I can’t leave you high like this,” Hyunjin replies, his two fingers just touching the fabric of your panties that was getting soaked by your wetness. You kick your head back at the pleasures “I just know you’re wet from sucking me off.. Let me, let me just eat you out..” he begged, his eyes turned dark full of lust.

“Please,” you gave in, out of breath.

Hyunjin plants a kiss to your neck before laying you down on the bed.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Hyunjin says the second he lifts up your dress and sees the huge wet patch on your underwear. He kneels down and peels it off, watching a thin line of your wetness pulls off with it. Hyunjin spreads your legs wider and his eyes rolls to the back of his head as exposes you. You were wet, glistening, it was so hot to him.

You let out a moan as the cold from Minho’s room brushed against your core. “Please, need your mouth,” it was your turn to beg.

Hyunjin complies and attached his lips to your pussy. “Ahh! Mhmm.. More..” you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know if you can keep quiet.

Hyunjin buries his face deeper as he contents to lick all over you, his nose rubbing against your clit. He was basically pussy drunk at his stage, gripping and pulling your hip closer to his faces. Your head falls back as you feel the pleasure building up in your core, your thighs volunteering closing around his head to add more pressure.

“I’m going cum, please.. Hyunjin— gonna cum..” you whine as he harshly sucks on your clit now, it was basically the cheat code in making you cum and he was able to get it the first time.

You moaned as you feel a glush of wetness explode from your core, you had cum. Hyunjin can tell you’re orgasming but he didn’t want to stop, you were too addicting.

You had to rip him off of you before you were overstimulated. “Hyunjin, too much,” you whined and he finally lifts his head.

“You taste too good kitten, sorry couldn’t stop,” he says and he wipes your wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it.

“Come here,” he jumps on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He runs his finger through your hair as you recover. You both stare at each other for a while before falling into a fit of giggles. How crazy is it that you were each other’s crush and not realising it.

“Should we go back out?” He asked smoothing down your hair.

“I have to touch up my lipstick first,” you say, pecking his nose.

“Let me help you,” he pulls you up from the bed before back hugging you to the bathroom where your bag was.

“Back to mine tonight, okay?” He reminded you softly as he wipes your lipstick in your lips - a hint of innocence radiating from him like he didn’t just lap up all your juices like a greedy animal.

“Of course, I have no where else I rather be tonight,” you answered, grinning from ear to ear at your pretty boy.

“Can’t believe it took you to squeeze into that tiny chair with Han-Ji for me to tell you,” Hyunjin beats himself up.

“It’s okay Hyunjin, I reckon the timing was perfect,” you reassured.

The house was packed now than before, it took you and Hyunjin a while to squeeze through all the people. Minho watch as you both hold hands, happily, making your way down the stairs, his smug pulling back on his face.

“Who got the bragging rights?” Minho asks cheekily as you both walk past him.

“You.” You answered rolling your eyes and Hyunjin laughs.

“You also got a messy bed too, bro,” Hyunjin taps Minho by the shoulders before following you.

Minho was left mouth agape as he stares up at the stairs. “Did they just…”

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[fyodoro]

ೃ༄ JUST AN INCH AWAY…

ft. Alhaitham, Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

… who said making out was the only way to escape such a predicament? neither of you, apparently. but if it works, it works— even if it wasn’t intentional.

gn!reader, suggestive but not rlly bordering on smut, puzzles gone wrong, forced proximity and enemies with tension type thing, lots of kissing, lots of making out, profanity, harbinger scara, akademiya/academic rival alhaitham | wc : 5.4k

a big thank you to @vxnuslogy for going over scara’s bit for me cause i’ve grown vv unfamiliar with his character over the years, so thank you vee !!

ALHAITHAM (1.7k wc)

”I swear to Archons, the second I get out of here I’m burning your thesis to ashes.”

Alhaitham’s unbothered expression didn’t falter. “Such a bold assumption. You really think you’re capable of escaping without me?” he reviled, using the split-second your mind went blank as an opportunity to shove you away to an adjacent wall.

Your brows furrowed, hand clutching your side in response to the fleeting moment of pain. “You better do something if this bruises, asshole,” you sneered.

”What sense does it make for me to do something about someone else’s problem?” he retorted, gray strands gone astray as he ran a hand through them.

This might’ve been the most stressed out you’ve ever seen him, you think. It makes plenty of sense, too. You wouldn’t be shocked if he was living out his worst nightmare right now. Two of the things he hates most— you, and a problem he can’t solve— is all he has to work with right now.

Actually, calling this his worst nightmare might be the understatement of the century.

“Two Akademiya students trapped in a cell… oh, all the possibilities. Did I mention they hate each other? That’s a key detail if I do say so myself.”

”I’m trying to focus here,” he said, tone as cold as the very peak of Dragonspine. 

You squatted down beside him, watching his skillful hands work with the broken device that got you trapped here in the first place. “You’re trying to focus, I’m bored. You don’t wanna spend your potential last minutes alive with me, and vice versa. Let’s face it, neither of us are winning here, so you might as well stop being a buzzkill for once.”

”These won’t be my last moments alive, but they might be yours if you don’t pipe down.”

You frowned without another word, surveying his working hands as they meticulously fidgeted with the dysfunctional rune. They’re… nice, you think, oddly enough. The thought alone made you wanna gag, but it wouldn’t be the first time you noticed them.

It also wouldn’t be the first time you noticed his nose scrunches whenever he’s concentrated. You’ve seen it plenty of times, but in this instance, it’s different— you’ve never seen it close up before. Every other time you just happened to catch it from across your shared classroom amidst a lesson, or the Akademiya’s library. No matter the case, there’s never been an appropriate time to tease him about it.

Does this count as an appropriate time? Probably not, but your mouth thinks otherwise.

“You’re gonna have bunny lines by the time you’re 24 if you don’t stop doing that.”

For a moment, he stops. His darkly lit nose inhaled deeply before turning to you, exasperation evident in his eyes. 

“That’s hypocritical, you do it more than me.”

You didn’t waste a second to fire back, eyes locking in on his with jest. “So you confess? You’ve been staring at me, hm?” 

“Do you hear yourself? You admitted the same thing just a moment ago,” he breathed, voice hitching in his throat from the intense irritation he was feeling. He opened his mouth hastily to speak again, but closed it just as fast, resuming his repair of the broken device. 

You scoffed, standing back up to stretch your limbs with a yawn. Just how long has it been now? Minutes? Hours? There was only so much longer you could take, and your patience was running just as thin as Alhaitham’s. 

“Surprise, surprise… you’re doing it again.”

“When we get out of here, I’m sending you to those Kshahrewar scholars. Maybe they’ll be able to install a mute button on you.” 

“I just think you’re jealous of me. Y’know, people actually like me, but I know that’s not the case for you.”

“Fortunately, I couldn't care any less about anyone’s opinion of me. Unlike you, remember?” he reminded, looking up at you from the corner of his eye. “You had a breakdown in the library because you eavesdropped on a group of Amurta students calling you a stuck-up know-it-all.”

Your teeth clenched together, brain stuttering over its thoughts. “That’s because I’m not! I didn’t even know any of them, they were just making stuff up—“

Alhaitham’s ears tuned you out, index finger clicking the last piece together on the rune, getting it to light up successfully. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead before picking himself up off the ground with a small huff.

“That’s why I was so upset, okay?” you finished, arms shrugged in a defensive manner. Your lips were pressed into a straight line, and your brows only raised at the realization— he wasn’t listening to a single word you said.

“Save your breath,” he started, gesturing to the supposedly fixed mechanism. “We’ll be out of each other’s sight soon.”

“Ohoho,” you chuckled dryly, “not soon enough.” 

You crouched down to the newly repaired rune, fidgeting with it as the symbols changed. Not a single one made the small cell’s bars budge, let alone lift. Slapping a hand to your forehead, you groaned in defeat. 

“Well my good friend, aren’t you just a genius,” you taunted.

“If you had a sliver of patience in that dense head of yours, you’d have known to wait another minute or so.”

“In my defense, you never told me to wait,” you spat. “In fact, it sounded like you wanted me to try it out just so you could call me a fool.”

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples immediately. “Don’t twist my words. The only one making yourself look like a fool is you.”

“Archons,” you cried out. “All of this could’ve been avoided if you weren’t such a dickhead.”

“And we could’ve had a peaceful time in here if you knew how to shut up.”

“The only way you’re getting me to shut up is if you make me. Otherwise, it’ll be a hot, sunny day in Snezhnaya when I decide to listen to you.”

That was Alhaitham’s final straw. 

“Make you?” he spoke, tall frame slowly moving down towards yours on the ground. The only source of light came from a lone torch beyond the bars that enclosed your cell, and the tiny blue light that glowed from the rune. “Just how can I ‘make you’ shut up?”

You shrugged, taking a moment to note how much closer he was compared to before. 

“Not a clue my dude, not a clue,” you said, mischief lacing your voice. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Oh, you know… unless you have a bright idea.” 

You tilted your head to the side, smirking as confliction appeared on his face. His brows have been furrowed for some time now due to your antics, though right now, they looked as if they were slanted out of focus, not fury. The lack of light made it hard to see his eyes clearly, but you swear you caught a glint of desire hidden within them.

He grabbed the back of your head with a solid grip, closing the gap between your faces as his lips took over yours. 

Your eyes shut out of instinct, though his remained half lidded for a few more seconds. He didn’t miss how speedy you were to kiss back, not to mention grab onto his gray locks. You tugged on them, hard. It was just the push he needed to pull your body closer to his, leaving no more space between you two.

Contrary to his cold attitude, his lips were warm, wait— no, he was warm. His body warmed yours, heat rushing to all parts of your body as he moved his hand down from the back of your head to your lower back, holding on tightly when you moved against him. 

Paired with the heat of the moment, the action pulled a small moan from your lips. Alhaitham’s quick thinking allowed him to slide his tongue past your lips at the opening. You didn’t give any pushback, eagerly accepting the wet muscle with a quiet whine. 

Hands flew everywhere— his hair was nothing short of a mess, and you were sure yours wasn’t so neat either. Each time you broke away for air was cut short by Alhaitham, who couldn’t bear a single second without attacking your lips. The only noises that filled the confined room were his grunts and your quiet whimpers, though an occasional moan was thrown into the mix. 

You felt his strong arms move you back, attempting to push your back against the ground for better control. However, his efforts went to waste as you yelped, breaking the kiss to turn around and fiddle with something.

“Oh shit,“ you uttered under your breath. “Look at what you pushed me into.”

He moved away from your body, taking a minute to catch his breath before averting his attention to behind you. What he saw was something be couldn’t believe he forgot about— the rune that got you both stuck in the first place.

As if on cue, it began to blink, followed by thick bars lifting into the ceiling. You laughed loudly, feverish look still apparent on your face from what happened moments prior. 

“You—“ he started, standing up from the cell’s floor in embarrassment. “You are not to speak of this, we are not to bring this up again, got that?” 

Extending a hand out to you, he helped pull you off the ground begrudgingly. You scratch the back of your head sheepishly, looking at anything that wasn’t Alhaitham.

“No promises?” 

He could only scoff at your response, exiting the cell that he so desperately wanted to escape from not so long ago with a frown. Before he could reach the stairwell that led you down here, he turned back to face you. 

“Are you coming?” 

“I— uh…” you stumbled over your words, trying to make sense of everything that just transpired. “Yes! Don’t go without me, you hear?”

He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

If this ever happens again, you can only hope your “undying” hatred for Alhaitham won’t waver afterwards. Now you have to bicker with an asshole who just so happened to have had his tongue in your mouth… not to mention he might be the best kisser you’ve ever met.

Great.

SCARAMOUCHE (1.3k wc)

The room was tight, stuffy, and so hot. 

Well, maybe the heat you felt was your own body temperature. It’s a natural reaction, you think. Yeah, a very, very natural reaction to being in such close proximity with someone you just so happened to find attractive. 

Pushing your bubbling feelings aside, you acknowledge the situation at hand. 

“This is your fault— all your fault!” 

“My fault? Did you forget who set off the wrong mechanism?” Scaramouche barked, furious eyes narrowing in on you. “Incase you somehow forgot, allow me to refresh that poor little memory of yours— it was you,” he hissed, the faint shadow of a smirk etched across his lips added a venom drip onto his words.

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, one that could most definitely be heard from the outside of the small chamber you found yourself trapped in. Seriously, who in their right mind thought it’d be a good idea to send you and the 6th Harbinger on a mission together? No, scratch that. Who thought it’d be a good idea to send him on a mission with anyone besides his masochistic subordinates?

The Tsarsita, apparently. 

Searching for any sign of an exit, your hand brushed against Scaramouche’s. For once, he landed on the same page as you.

“What do you think you're doing?” he spat, swatting your hand away as if it were a mere little fly.

You backed yourself against the wall defensively. The old bricks only extended a few feet wide; just a mere foot away from the other side, too. Unfortunately, this is physically the closest you’ve ever been to the Inazuman, a fact that made you sick. Archons, did it have to be him? Of all people, why was he the one you were trapped with?

“I’m trying to get us out of here. Y’know, so I don’t have to stare at your wretched face any longer.”

“No one’s forcing you to stare at anything, moron.” Groaning, his head motioned back to hit the wall behind it. “Look! So much dust, so much dirt, and it’s all right in front of you!” he sneered tauntingly. “How about you count every little dust particle your eyes can see while I get us out of here?” 

You hadn’t even realized he’d been drawing closer and closer the longer he spoke. Unintentionally, probably. Still, there was hardly any space to begin with, and now he literally had you cornered. 

That part may be intentional, you think.

“I’d rather count every single split-end from that hair of yours, since the darkness wasn’t kind enough to hide them for you.”

He deadpanned at your rebuttal, “Oh, like that has to do with anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll still be counting even after we get out of here,” you tauntingly whispered, face unconsciously growing closer to his. “If you’d open your mind for a moment… I’d recommend seeing a barber when we return.”

“You little—“ his voice came to an abrupt stop, gleaming eyes sharpening in the dimly lit room as he gritted his teeth. 

“Little what? Go on, don’t cut yourself off now,” you mocked, a grin of michief creeping onto your features. “Am I a little bitch, or a little pest? Oh, maybe you had something more creative in mind? Come on now, don’t keep me wai—“

Before you could finish your sentence— hell, before he could think, his lips lunged at yours, capturing them between his own as he pinned your hands on either side of your head firmly.

Your eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated in shock as you processed what was happening. The Balladeer was kissing you. He went from taunting you… to… kissing you…? And it felt good? You didn’t think you hated it. No, you definitely didn’t hate it. 

Kissing back slowly, you gripped onto the hands that restrained yours for better support. Oddly enough, his hold loosened, opting to intertwine your fingers instead. 

He felt something. Heat, maybe? Yeah, that must be it. It was hot. Obviously his mechanical body wasn’t immune to the dangers of overheating, especially when it’s pressed up against an even warmer body. It wasn’t like anything he felt before— of course he felt himself craving more. 

He broke the kiss briefly to hoist you upwards, moving his hands down to signal you to jump. Without thinking, you wrapped your legs around his slim frame instinctively. His hands that went from yours, to beneath your knees, now kept a firm grip on the plush of your thighs as the kiss deepened.

Small snippets of air was all you needed to keep going, something Scaramouche didn’t understand. Every time you pulled away for a gasp of air, his brows furrowed in judgment. Humans, he thinks to himself. Not even lust can cloud their senses. The string of saliva was all that connected your bodies. That is— if you didn’t count your hold around his neck or his now wandering hands. 

As he dove back in to resume, you felt yourself pushed against the wall— harder, somehow. The force had you groan, now feeling just how dirty the small room was. Scaramouche couldn’t give a shit, of course. Instead, he thought now was the perfect moment to trail his lips down to your neck. 

Your head lolled back, allowing him all the access he needed. He nipped and nipped— creating a pattern between sucking, biting, and kissing. Honestly, you were too dazed to care if he left a mark at this point. You let your thighs tremble in his hold, aching from both the thrill and the need. Letting your head rest against the wall entirely, you—

Bump!

Both yours and Scaramouche’s eyes widened, only to close tightly at the sudden light. He turned away from you, squinting at the brightness that came in the other direction. “What the…”

Oh, the door lifted.

“How did it—“

The Balladeer’s hands dropped from your body, retreating to his sides. You still kept a hold on him— limbs not showing any sign of letting him move freely, but you were just as perplexed as him. 

“Let go.”

“If you drop me and I break something, you better pay for—“

He rolled his eyes, forcing your legs off of him and sliding down to escape your grip around his neck. You fell, hard. Grumbling to yourself, you stood back up on your own two feet with annoyance. 

Freedom was just a foot away, yet neither of you moved an inch. Scaramouche’s eyes darted from you, to the wall behind you, catching the key to the chamber’s doors. 

Of course.

He pressed his hand against the loose brick. “Your head was right here, correct?”

“I’m pretty sure… yeah?” you answered, turning around to examine his actions. 

He slapped his forehead in agitation, laughing to himself. You were starting to catch on now, understanding what caused your escape route. 

“I can’t believe it,” he breathed, chuckling. “You were so needy, your big head somehow pushed the brick that opened the doors.” 

For once, you ignored his insult. “Then— can we get out of here before it closes again?”

His eyes darkened, returning to his menacing aura. You gulped, feeling less cocky after the predicament you found yourself in a minute prior. He pointed his index finger at you— as if he were about to order you around like one of his subordinates.

“Only if you agree to never speak of this to anyone, you got that?”

You nodded slowly, itching to get out of here and complete this mission in another few hours. “Okay… okay.”

“Good,” he started, turning his back to you. “We can finish this later, but that’ll be it.”

That was, in fact, not the last time such an encounter occurred between you both. But hey, there’s a thin line between hate and love, right? 

Surely it wouldn’t be a problem to dance on that line a little longer…

WRIOTHESLEY (2.3k wc)

How in Teyvat does the very Duke of the Fortress of Meropide forget his keys? Better yet, how did the lock on the outside of the cell click on its own?

“This place is haunted, it’s gotta be,” you wailed, dramatically flopping yourself down on the cell’s stiff mattress. “Hey, Great ol’ Duke, I’ve got an idea for you.”

The hands that were previously fiddling with the lock on the other side of the cell came to a halt. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before darting his eyes in your direction. 

“Oh, sure. Please, tell me, what are you scheming this time?” 

“Me? Scheming? Just how little do you think of me?”

He huffed, giving his attention back to the matter at hand: getting out of this cell and far, far away from you.

“I don’t think anything of you, but I do know,” he grumbled, cursing himself for never gluing the keys to his hand. “And what I know is that you should’ve been out of here the moment your sentence ended. But instead, you thought it’d be fun to stick around and climb the ranks amongst the gardes here.”

“With ease, if you don’t mind adding that bit on.”

“I do, actually.”

“Whatever,” you whisper to yourself, staring up at the ceiling that reached so high above. By now it was a view you were sick of, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

All you wanted to do was give Wriothesley his daily dose of torment. Instead, you wound up following him into an old cell, one that he meant to clean up before the door slammed shut, effectively locking the two of you back up. Both yours and his blood ran cold at the realization: you were trapped— together.

“This might be the worst day of my life,” he said, stone-faced. 

“You and me both, Duke.”

He slid down the wall next to the cell door, legs spread out as his head hung low in defeat. “We’re gonna be here for a while before someone gets us outta here.”

“And the thinker of the year award goes to… Wriothesley! Congrats, you figured out the obvious,” you cheered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’ll get you a medal sometime soon, don’t worry.”

“Aren’t you a thoughtful one,” he deadpanned, sick to his stomach from your presence alone. 

“Aren’t I?” you mused. 

He let out a deep sigh, wishing he had someone else to keep him company right now. Sigwinnie would be his top pick, with the Traveler coming as a close second. But you? Yeah, you weren’t even last on the list of people he’d pick; not a trace of your name could even be found on it.

The goal was to tidy up some old cells, maybe a few of the bathrooms too if he was feeling up to it. Unfortunately, nothing comes according to plan for Wriothesley when you're in a three mile radius. You’ve made it your life’s goal to annoy him to bits— torture him to bits, as he thinks of it. So when he saw you making your way down the same hall as him, he tried to make a beeline out of your sight.

Key word: tried.

He tried, and failed miserably.

He pats his pockets down once again, making sure he didn’t miss his keys the last four times he checked. To no avail, there was nothing. Awesome— great, he thinks. This might be the worst mistake of his life.

“You do realize…” he began, standing back up to peer outside the strong bars. “If you hadn’t followed me around like some annoying pest— which you are, by the way— there might’ve been someone on the other side of these bars to alert someone sooner.”

You laughed at the seriousness in his voice. “You must be really deluded to think that I’d ever bother helping you out in any shape, way, or form.”

“That’d be a charge,” he informed, as if he knew every little detail in Fontaine’s code of law. “Reckless endangerment, that’s what they call it.”

“Yeah, they call it reckless endangerment. I like to call it minding my own business.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms from across the room. “It’s a miracle you’ve yet to face another trial.”

“I’m wounded,” you cried out, sitting up from the hard mattress. “To believe you’d think I’d ever commit another crime… I feel my heart breaking already.” 

The poor performance you put on was entertaining, he’d give you that much. As much as he disliked you, even he couldn’t deny the intriguing aura you carried. Would he admit it out loud? Absolutely not. But thinking of a foe’s positive trait couldn’t hurt, right? 

Maybe a little…

Staring off into nothing, you missed the moment Wriothesley treaded closer to you. Snapping out of your daze, your eyes shot up at his, shifting from a gaze to a glare in a millisecond. 

“Visiting hours are closed, come back another time— but keep in mind they’ll still be closed.” 

“Not visiting, just trying to take a seat that isn’t on a filthy floor,” he corrected, gesturing to move from the middle of the bed to the end.

“You sure you don’t need a check up from Sigwinnie?” you laughed dryly, finding humor in his train of thought. “Seriously, what makes you think I’m sharing a bed with you?”

“Don’t make it sound like that—“

“Like what?” you cut off, grinning to no one but yourself. “Like we’re sharing a bed all night? Like we’re gonna snuggle up next to each other because we’re so deprived of warmth? Oh, maybe you’re thinking it’ll end up with us—“

He lets you ramble, ignoring each word that slips from your lips; allowing his brain to replace the sound of your voice with the sound of a fly that’s been buzzing in his office all day. No longer caring about close proximity, he plopped himself down on the bed with a soft grunt. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you sneered, shoving his annoyingly muscular frame away from you. 

“Laying down,” he said, letting his arms spread out across the bed— one of which landing behind you. “I might as well get comfortable for the time being.”

You glared down at him, feeling your eye twitch at his antics. “Well now I’m not comfortable thanks to you. I’m sure the floor would be far more welcoming, don’t you agree?” 

“I only agree with the voice in my head, wanna guess what he’s saying?” He stared blankly at the ceiling above as he spoke, starting to feel exhaustion cloud over his mind.

“Not really.”

“Too bad, I’m telling you anyway.” Moving the hand behind your figure, he pointed at his head. “He’s telling me you should shut up before I’m forced to do something about it.” 

You laughed meekly, “Well, isn’t he just a little comedian in the making.” 

“There you go. See, it wasn’t that hard, was it? I knew you were capable of saying something with an ounce of truth.”

“That was sarcasm, Duke.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you said it, so…” He sat up slowly, now plastered to your side as he stared daggers into you. “I don’t care.”

You shifted in your spot, goosebumps crawling up your skin at the room’s sudden change of mood. As much as you hated the man (for no apparent reason other than conflicting personalities, if you may add), it didn’t make you blind to his looks— body— his charm. 

Those factors only fuel your hatred, actually. 

Over the years, spoiling Wriothesley’s day has become a part of your daily routine. Every day you woke up with the same recurring thought: ‘What’ll piss him off today?’ and ‘How will he respond today?’ 

Whenever you don’t run into him, you can’t help but feel disappointed. "Maybe tomorrow,” you’d say to yourself at day’s end, thinking of all the ways you can get on his nerves later. 

You hated him so, so much. You only hated him more when he wasn’t a part of your day. 

“Getting a little close there, arentcha?” 

“You’ve yet to push me away, too,” he noted. 

You stared into your lap with an unreadable expression. “Don’t get the wrong idea or anything, you’re just a good— decent substitute for a heater.” 

He hummed, going silent for a minute or so. For once, it felt… peaceful between you two. If peaceful was even the right word, which you and him both doubted. 

Tense might be a better way to describe the atmosphere. 

“If you’d prefer a better heater…” he started, voice trailing off as he furrowed his brows at his thoughts. “I can improve myself, if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind? You were taken aback in confusion, unsure of what he was implying. “What are you talking about? How… how would that even work?”

His lips press into a thin line for a second, a second that you regretfully missed. When you do look at him, he’s no longer glaring at you— just staring. It was hard to make out the emotions written across his face. Unsure? Confident? Both, somehow?

He took a deep breath. “Like this,” he said before diving in.

Grayish-blue eyes shut tightly as his lips locked onto yours. Your lips parted farther in shock, giving his tongue access almost immediately. This isn’t an opportunity anyone can come by quite easily with Wriothesley— or you for that matter. Wanting those bragging rights more so than he himself, you indulged in his feverish kiss while you could.

But oh— he was right. It was so much warmer now, no longer feeling the chills you felt earlier. You hated when he was right, despised it, even. The strong feelings only escalated the kiss further, and Archons… not once did you think Wriothesley of all people would be able to turn you to mush so easily. 

Your lungs burned for oxygen, as did his. You both pulled away for a moment, staring into each other’s clouded eyes without a thought.

“I don’t mind,” you responded to his question from before. “Well— as long as you don’t mind.”

He opened his mouth to speak, only to get cut off by you pouncing on him. You were no longer at each other’s sides, turning at an awkward angle to indulge in one another. Now, you had him pinned down to the old, bare mattress, moving your lips against his with far more rhythm than before.

Kissing back, he managed to motion his wrists out of your grip, leaving you to stutter over your movements before settling your hands on either side of his chest, still straddling him. As for him, his hands didn’t hesitate to hold onto your hips. 

In all fairness, this is a pretty effective way to get each other to shut up. It kept your mouths busy, not to mention it was hot, something you never thought you’d hear yourself think regarding Wriothesley.

Your hands moved to his bi-colored locks, tugging on the gray and black strands to keep yourself grounded as his hands explored your body. You hate that you’re enjoying this as much as you are. It’d be a different story if this were anyone else— then you’d bask in the pleasure without complaint. But this is the man you swore you wanted dead for years…

Much to your dismay, that thought only added more thrill to the situation. 

The kiss was wet— messy. Every break for air was spent uncovering every little detail on his face. He has nice eyelashes, you think. His eyes also look really fucking pretty when they’re half-lidded like this. Going back in, you felt a soft squeeze on your ass, which was soon followed by Wriothesley breaking the kiss.

You looked down at him with a curious gaze, brow lifted in both annoyance and wonder. Before you could ask what’s wrong, he pushed you off him in one swift motion.

Yelping in surprise, you sharpened your glare. “The hell was that for? If you wanted to stop, you coulda just said that!” 

“Check your pocket.” he demanded, now standing up with his arms crossed over his chest.

“My pocket?” You stared at him in disbelief, a flurry of emotions sworming your brain. 

He didn’t reply, only staring you down harder than before. With no other option, you dug your hand into your back pocket, eyes widening the second you felt metal.

Right… that’s how you got into this mess in the first place.

Chuckling awkwardly, you revealed the ring of keys to Wriothesley, holding them up besides your face in embarrassment.

He didn’t move, only glaring at you even more now that you’ve been caught.

“So…” your voice dragged out, eyes trailing down to the floor. “I may or may not have stolen these from you when you weren’t looking. Y’know, before we got stuck in here. And… I may or may not have… uh, forgot? Yeah, I forgot I had these.”

You stood from the bed shamefully, planting the keys in his hand without a glance. He stood still for a moment, too baffled at the absurdity of the past— what was it? Hour? 30 minutes? 

He cleared his throat. “I think it goes without saying that I’m getting back at you for this. Later, that is.”

You nodded your head, mentally noting to avoid him at all costs for the remainder of the week— no matter how much it conflicts with your usual routine. The keys jingled from across the room, where Wriothesley was now finally unlocking the cell door.

“I’ll be on my way,” you chirped, attitude doing a complete 180. 

Before you could exit the run-down cell, someone gripped the back of your shirt.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled darkly. “You’re coming with me.”

You gulped, blood draining from your face at his words. “Oh, am I now?” you mocked quietly, not a bit of confidence to be heard in your voice for once.

“We need to pick up where we left off, don’t we? I can throw my pay back in, too.”

At least you and him have an… ethical… way of shutting each other up now…

© fyodoro 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[sundrop-writes]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[miley1442111]

confession- s.reid

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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K I LOVE Y'ALL, also my lc is over!!!! expect more stories more frequenrly and I'll finally get around to clearly m y drafts and finishing my TTPD series! also working on finishing my spencer reid series so yay!

summary: spencer's birthday was supposed to be fun for him and his girlfriend, what happens when his mentor (his girlfriends father) shows up at his door?

pairing: spencer reid x fem! gideon! reader

warnings: complicated family relationships, heavy making out, suggestive mentions, that's all

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“Spence-” you whispered into his mouth. God, this felt good. After not seeing you for 3 whole days, here you were making out on his couch like you two were hormonal teenagers.

He didn’t exactly mind though, and it seemed you didn’t either. Plus, you being here and the birthday gift you gave him (a doctor who box set and a blowjob) made this his best birthday yet. 

“So pretty,” he whispered against your lips as your hands messed up his perfectly styled hair. 

You took his glasses off his face and kissed him harder again, his moaning becoming unbearably hot. 

An ice bucket would’ve been an easier way to crush Spencer’s libido, but the loud ring of the doorbell brought you both out of the heated moment, and actually made you jump off his lap. You scrambled to pull your cardigan over yourself, and Spencer groaned out in frustration, the blood running back to his brain. 

“Coming!” He called as you dressed yourself. He grabbed his glasses, tried to straighten out his hair, and prepared himself to mentally curse whoever this was. It was 11pm, it was a weeknight, you two had already gotten your delivery order, and no one was supposed to come over. 

Who the fuck was at his door then?

Jason. Jason Gideon was standing at his door, and his soul left his body. 

He let out an involuntary scream which made you and Jason scream back. All were small, but distinct sounds, and Jason’s interest was piqued. 

“You have someone here?” He whispered. 

“J-just my girlfriend,” Spencer admitted. He’d never told anyone who his girlfriend was, especially not that she was his mentor’s daughter. “You can come in if you want?”

“Oh, I can finally meet the woman behind Doctor Reid-”

“No! S-she’s sick right now,” he squeaked. “She’s just… resting up.”

You had sprinted into the bedroom when you heard your dad’s voice and thank god you had, or else you would’ve been caught. 

“Wow, love really does defy all odds, you don’t even touch us when we’ve been fully sanitised,” Jason laughed. 

“ ‘We’, who’s ‘we’?”

“The rest of the team,” he nodded. “They’re coming up after me.”

“W-why?” Spencer picked at his nails as Jason smiled at him. 

“It’s your birthday Spencer, we wanted to throw a party,” he chuckled. 

“But it’s 11pm at night?”

“And we have another case,” Jason sighed. “So grab your bag and we’ll have the party on the plane.”

“Oh,” Spencer deflated. He promised he’d spend the next few days with you. You’d taken time off work and everything. And he had to leave, again. “I-is there anyway I could… stay?” 

“Pardon?” Jason stopped in his tracks. 

“It’s just… I kind of promised my girlfriend that I would be here for the next few days since it’s my birthday and-”

“Spencer, it’s fine,” you promised, coming out of his bedroom. You did it without thinking, and now you’re faced with the impending wrath of your father. 

He looked between the two of you, then where you held Spencer’s hand in comfort as you waited for his reaction. 

“You’re dating my daughter, Spencer?” He asked, a certain anger in his tone. 

“Dad, please just-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me it was you who’s keeping my best agent from me?” He turned to you and you rolled your eyes. 

“Spencer is allowed to have a personal life, dad,” you argued as Spencer got increasingly red. 

“And what? You’re the personal life he needs?” He snapped and your face fell. 

“I know you don’t think I’m doing enough with my life dad, but I’m allowed to be happy with my boyfriend. Sorry that pisses you off so much,” you snapped back, anger boiling through you. You’d only really known your dad for the last two years. He’s reached out after your mom died. They’d been broken up for over 20 years. “If you didn’t want a kid, which you clearly don’t, you shouldn’t have reached out when my mom died. I was doing just fine on my own.”

His face twisted into a mix of shame and embarrassment. He didn’t want to make you feel small, he just wanted the best for both of you. “Y/n-”

“You have a case. Go on your case,” you spat, then turned to Spencer. “I’ll text you later.”

“Ok,” he rushed out, then ran off to grab his go-bag and be out of his apartment and out between you two. His girlfriend or his mentor, he was hoping you two wouldn’t make him choose because he knew Jason wouldn’t like his choice. 

Jason held out a hand to stop him. “Stay,” he sighed. “Take care of her.”

And with that your dad left his apartment. 

And with that the first few tears fell. 

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you in. His heart ached for you. You’d grown up with a horrible family, and you’d begged someone to take you out of it, hoping that your father would show up one day. He didn’t. Not until the funeral. 

“I’m sorry I'm crying on your birthday,” you whimpered, trying to stop. 

“Please don’t apologise, he was being an asshole,” he held you tighter, praying the pain in his chest would go away. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed. “I know I’m not enough- for both of you, and I just… I keep trying but nothing is ever good enough and I’m so sorry Spencer, I really am, I really am trying-”

“You’re more than enough for me. I love you. I adore you,” he reassured you and your heart stopped. 

Well, that was a first. 

“You love me?” You asked, staring up at him.

“Of course I love you,” he nodded, a wonky smile on his face.

“I love you too,” you whispered and his smile turned into a full-on grin. 

“Well, that’s good,” he leant down so that you two were face to face. “Because-”

You cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the saltiness of your tears and you were sure he could too. But you didn’t care.

You loved him. He loved you. 

That would be enough for the both of you. Your dad was a jerk. 

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

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@khxna

[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[prentissluvr]

take my breath away — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, suffocation, other canon violence and death, injuries, blood mention, swearing, so much pining, case fic, stereotypical witch, (not) unrequited love, petty fights/arguments, petty sam, kissing, crying, guilt, reader vaguely implied to be shorter than sam, pet names, food mentions, (baby, honey - from sam, darlin'/kiddo from dean), no use of y/n, mentions of end of season 2-4 spoilers, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 13.7K summary : because of an unexpected witch's curse, it's almost too late for you and sam to confess your feelings to each other.

you see sam when it rains. even if he’s sitting right in front of you, you’ll look out the car window and at the rivulets of water rushing down the glass, distorting the image of an empty highway and summer-time trees at dusk, and you’ll see him at seventeen with rain in his hair and running down his cheeks. you’ll think of that smile he gave you as he took your hand and how that look he had in his eyes haunts you worse than any ghost you’ve seen, because you think it could’ve been love. sometimes, you’ll still see glimpses of that sam, but he can be rare. so, you go as far to wonder if maybe he still looks at you like that when your gaze is turned away. 

once, when the windows were down and he was sitting in the back with you for a change, the spring air was nice and clean as it filtered into the sometimes stuffy car, and you felt his multicolor gaze watching you. the look on his face changed when you locked eyes, but for an imagined moment, it seemed that you—your eyes closed against the wind and a light smile on your face that, for once, wasn’t grim—were his everything.

you press your temple to the cold glass of the window, hoping it’ll sober you up a little from your love-drunk state. it’s so goddamn stupid that you’re even thinking about him like this right now, because he’s still sort of mad at you for something rash you did during your last hunt. only you don’t think it was stupid, so you’re half pissed that he won’t let it go. staring at the back of his head and the pretty curled ends of his hair, you sigh quietly. even his shoulders rising up past the seat are handsome. you miss him, and he’s close enough to reach out and touch.

dean’s voice breaks your reverie, and you have to draw in a deep breath. without you even noticing, thinking about sam so hard makes you breathless, almost every time.

“so, why don’t you give us the full rundown, sammy? ‘fore either of you decide to conk out on me,” dean suggests. that means he’s bored, because neither of you will fall asleep for at least another hour or two, and you’ll probably take your turn driving for a few soon.

“sure,” sam agrees, and you hear the shuffle of papers as he digs out a newspaper article and some notes. “three people in the last three weeks all died from suffocation, but with no apparent cause. they just,” sam’s shoulders move a little as he motions vaguely with his hands, “stopped breathing.”

“sounds witchy to me,” dean says, very predictably. you think you could’ve said those exact words at the exact same time if you wanted to tease him about it.

“yeah. what’s weird is that the vics were reported feeling out of breath up to 16 hours before they actually died. says it looks like they slowly died from oxygen deprivation,” sam adds.

“huh. so not hex bags, but another sort of spell?” you wonder aloud, easily talking about the case despite the remainders of tension between you and sam. that’s just how it is, with all of you. even when you’re mad, you still work the case.

“most likely,” sam agrees, “the vics went about their days pretty much normally until they died, so they were in different places as they were dying. seems like a hex bag wouldn’t work unless it was on them the whole time.” you nod, and though he’s not turned around to look at you, you’re sure he knows anyway.

“alright, well. looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” dean states, “we’ll be in town in the morning, so we’ll rest up real quick then head to the police station. you two can do your interviewing magic with the vic’s families and hopefully we’ll know more by then.”

this was easily predicted as well. for as long as you’ve been able to pass as an fbi agent, he’s mostly left interviewing the families to you and sam since the two of you tend to be more socially appropriate, and thus, more able to get information without raising alarms. though, the questions you ask never cease to be weird and confusing to the world’s oblivious civilians. of course, dean makes exceptions for pretty girls who he can flirt his way into telling him just about anything. this time, you wish dean would make an exception because it kills you that you and sam aren’t getting along perfectly right now. you know that you’ll work it out soon, probably within the week, but you still hate it.

through the impala’s windows, you watch the sky turn dark and the moon come out. you drive, then fall asleep to the rumble of the engine for a few hours, and wake to see the sky turn light again. keeping it all to yourself, you revel in the sunrise and the way it turns the sky bright and the clouds cotton candy pink around the edges. 

you sink into the sight of sam sleeping in front of you, the early morning light kissing his features and shining through his mousy brown hair. if you lean a little to the left, you can soak up the image of his softly closed eyes, the mole by his nose, and the relaxed curve of his lips. you smile to yourself at the way his hair is all messed up on the side of his head that’s resting against the window until you catch dean’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror. you tear your gaze from both brothers and latch it to the moving countryside out the window. for a while now, you’ve figured there’s no way dean doesn’t see that you’re in love with his brother, but despite such, he doesn’t say much outside of lightheartedly teasing for the both of you. he’s the only one who knows that sam looks at you just like that when you’re the one who’s asleep. he’s the one who sees sam turn, trying to be subtle, just to look at the way the moonlight kisses your lips, wishing it was him.

it’s eight in the morning when you pull up to the first motel you see. you wished sam hadn’t woken up on his own half an hour ago. that way, you could’ve put your hand on his shoulder, shaken him all soft and gentle like you do just for him, and mumbled, “wake up, sammy. we’re here.” then he’d stir, still sweet-looking from sleep and give you a little smile if he’d managed to dream without nightmares before remembering he’s supposed to still be upset with you.

instead, he’s fully awake when he climbs out of the car and pops your door open like he does every time you can’t beat him to it. he doesn’t talk about that habit, because he knows you can take care of it yourself. but if it’s so easy for him to do it as you grab your bag, then he thinks there’s no harm. besides, you’ve never told him off for it, so he does that and just about any other little thing he can get away with for you. and much to your chagrin, he still does it all when he’s pissed at you. he’s too good like that, even if you think he should just get over what happened a few days ago.

the three of you are just about wordless as you check in and pile into the room, all tired and without anything of importance to say. when you catch sight of the couch in the room, you sigh in relief. it would’ve been sam’s turn to share the bed, and you’re not sure you could do that this time around. sometimes it’s hard to breathe when he’s right there, so close after you’ve spent literal hours in the car just plain old pining over him. so, you find an extra sheet in the closet and steal a pillow from dean’s bed, all but collapsing onto the couch with a morning-time “goodnight.”

you don’t care that your feet hang over the edge unless you curl up or mind the way the springs dig into the flesh of your side, all you want is to welcome quick sleep. you’re lucky, and drift off moments later. you barely have time to think about how glad you are that you won’t have one of your nights where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as you wonder why you would fall in love with someone you can’t have. him and dean are all you have, and no matter how your heart aches to pull sam close, you’d never do anything to jeopordize what you have, here and now. he’s your best friend, that’s all you can ask for in this life, maybe even more than you should.

waking as you normally do to the sounds of sam and dean moving about the motel room, you sit up, a little groggy. you glance at the clock, and you’ve slept for about four hours, just as predicted.

“up ‘n at ‘em,” dean says as he walks past you, giving you a playful clap on the back.

“mhmm,” is all you respond with, swinging your legs off the couch and digging through your bag for your pant suit and toothbrush. dean’s already in his, and sam’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, still in his tshirt and jeans from yesterday. you don’t even have to say a word for sam to move out of the bathroom as you approach. so he won’t have to wait with a mouth full of tooth-paste and spit for you too long, you change quickly, leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor and opening the door for sam as you begin to brush your own teeth. the two of you maneuver around the cramped space with practiced ease, and when he’s done, he disappears back into the bedroom space without a word. when he’s petty to other people, you think it’s kind of hot. but when he does it to you, it makes you want to ring his neck. 

“asshole,” you mumble to yourself. it’s a classic tango between the two of you; you want him to just get over it, and he wants you to admit that he’s right, or the other way around. and both of you are far too stubborn to be the one to relent first, so you’ll be pissy at each other for a few days until you get bored of it or dean gets too annoyed. all it takes to get past it is you putting your head in his lap after a long day, maybe him resting his head on your shoulder, or the two of you laughing too hard over something together to keep being mad, and maybe just a few mumbled apologies from the both of you. if it’s really big enough for none of those things to work, then you talk about it until things are okay again.

dean drops you off at the first victim’s house, with the promise that the second is close enough to walk to, and the third he’ll join you for once he’s done at the coroner’s office.

sam still won’t talk to you as you wait on the front porch of the house after ringing the doorbell. a young woman opens the door, probably around your own age, and you smile at her before flashing your badge.

“hi. i’m agent green. this is my partner, agent smith. we’re looking for natalie goh?” you greet, comfortable and at ease in your ruse.

“that’s me,” she confirms for you, sounding nice enough. “how can i help you, agents?”

“we would just like to ask a few questions about your late boyfriend, henry,” sam explains, “may we come inside?”

her face falls when he mentions her boyfriend, but she nods her head. “of course, come in.” you follow her to the living room where she motions for you to sit. “let me grab you something to drink,” she offers, disappearing into the next room before you can refuse. “is lemonade okay? my next door neighbor brought me so much when she heard about henry… you know. i can’t possibly drink it all.”

you want to say no, not wanting to make her go through the extra effort, but you accept for both you and sam out of sympathy. she sounds like she needs to keep her hands busy to distract herself. 

she sets the drinks down in front of you, asking as she sits, “what, uhm, what is the fbi’s interest in … in henry?”

“we’re investigating a few odd deaths, like your boyfriend’s, in the area,” sam explains, “now, was there anything unusual the day of or the days leading up to his death?”

“i, um, i don’t– i don’t think so, like what? and, i’m sorry, the police told me he most likely choked on something, how is that strange?” natalie frets. you glance at sam and catch him readjusting his features as a brief look of surprise crosses over his face. it makes sense that that’s what the police told her, but you hadn’t known they’d said so.

“well, natalie, the cause of his death wasn’t entirely clear, and because a few more people have died similarly since, we’re just being extra thorough,” you do your best to placate her before she starts getting too wary of you and sam. “it really could mean nothing, but it’s important for us to cover all of our bases. so, can you tell us if there was anything out of the ordinary? was he acting strange, or did you notice anything unusual around the house, like maybe cold spots or flickering lights?”

she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “um, no. no, nothing like that. he was just being him, you know, he was such an amazing boyfriend, he made me breakfast that morning even though he said he was tired. i already told this to the police, but he sounded kind of out of breath when we called. that was the last time i talked to him,” her voice begins to tremble, so you reach out a comforting hand and place it atop hers from across the table. “i had to stay late at work, and when i got home, he was … he was gone. i found him in the kitchen.” a tear slips down her cheek, and she moves her hand away from yours to wipe it off. you shift back in your seat and glance at sam, trying to give him the hint to get moving. but, he keeps his gaze trained elsewhere.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, almost ready to pull the “may i use your bathroom” ruse first. it’s almost always sam who does it, and sure enough, he clears his throat to ask.

“would you mind if i used your restroom?”

“oh, sure,” she says, “there’s one by the pantry, through the kitchen and to the left.”

he stands, thanking her a bit awkwardly before disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen.

once he’s gone, you turn your attention back to natalie. “i know that this can be a difficult question, but is there anyone that comes to mind who might want to hurt henry?” absentmindedly, you take a sip of the lemonade after speaking. it’s sweet, but not too sugary. you discover that it’s just about perfect, and you can’t hold back from continually taking a few sips here and there to fight back the heat of the afternoon.

“oh, goodness, no,” she sounds horrified by that prospect, “henry was just the kindest. the best boyfriend i could ask for,” she reiterates. “you think that someone– that someone…?”

“no, no,” you lie, “there would be signs if someone else hurt him, but like i said, we just need to be completely thorough. i’m sorry to even have to ask. now, if you’re okay with it, could you tell me more about henry?”

“yes, yeah, i can do that,” she sighs in relief. it’s clear she wants to talk about him, and probably how much she misses him. you do your best to pay close attention and keep her focused on you and your questions as sam takes forever “in the bathroom.” nothing she says is very useful, it’s all about how loving and kind and just about perfect he was to her. at first, you’re able to listen without a qualm, but the more she rambles about how much she loved him, and maybe even more so how much he loved her, your mind inevitably wanders to sam. sam and your bothersome, bottomless pit of unrequited love.

you kindly cut natalie off and stand when you hear sam’s footsteps approach. “it sounds like henry was a wonderful person. i’m so sorry for your loss.” despite knowing those words don’t mean or do much, you still fill them with as much sincerity as you can. sam is at your side again. “we really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. we’ll get out of your hair now.”

she shows you to the front door out of courtesy, and you give her one last thank you and kind smile before turning your back and heading to the sidewalk, sam just ahead of you. pushing off the ground a little harder for a few steps, you catch up to him and his long strides, unable to resist the urge to let your gaze wander to his face.

“anything?” you ask, hoping he’ll look at you too.

“nope,” he shakes his head, “no emf, no hexbags, nothing out of the ordinary.” pursing your lips, you let your gaze fall to the sidewalk ahead of you when he doesn’t make eye-contact. “anything on your end?”

“not really. she just rambled about how in love they were. said there was nothing strange about the day, or him, and that he had no enemies. she made him sound like a complete angel.” without you realizing, your lip curls a little in jealousy.

sam just huffs in response, likely bothered by the lack of information. “let’s hope we can find something about the other two.”

you repeat the ruse at the next two homes, and sam’s hopes are dashed, because by the time you, sam, and dean are back at the motel room, just about the only thing of value you bring back is a paper bag of takeout.

spread out in the room, with your respective assortments of food, notes, and computers, you share all the details you can think of to hopefully find a pattern. dean’s on his bed, sam on the couch, and you at the dingy table. the biggest discovery is on dean’s part. according to the coroner, each of the victim’s hearts had inexplicably shrunken and shriveled up. this detail was kept out of the public eye because of how strange it was; it happened after each victim died, as it very clearly did not contribute to the cause of death. that, and the coroner is absolutely stumped by how such a thing could possibly happen.

dean asks if the first two interviews were as fruitless as the last, and you sigh as you explain just how unhelpful they’d been.

“the only common threads are that they were young adults, all in a relationship, and all sounded to be just about the perfect partner,” you report. “i mean, maybe the witch is targeting people in loving relationships? jealousy? or maybe they have some sort of secret we couldn’t dig up just by interviewing. the people we talked to were obviously biased. the first victim’s girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing he was, the second’s sister told us she was the sweetest girlfriend out there, and you heard how the third’s husband described them.”

“really?” dean asks. “i mean, yeah, i heard the last guy, but i ran into the first vic’s girlfriend’s sister at the station. she was doing something for her sister there, and she did not seem too impressed with the guy when i asked about him.”

you raise your eyebrows, about to speak again when sam beats you to it.

“so maybe we are looking for secrets. did she say what she wasn’t impressed with?” sam says just about the exact thing you were about to.

dean shrugs. “jus’ said he was sort of a lazy boyfriend. didn’t take good enough care of her or show his love all that much.”

“maybe he was cheating?” you suggest.

“maybe,” dean repeats. “how’s this? you can dig into records and see if you can find any dirt on the vics. sam, you can look for a spell that might’ve caused this, and i’ll scout out a few local places. the officer i was talking to gave me a few places the vics probably spent time at.”

“sure,” you agree, a teasing edge to your voice, “just don’t get too distracted. we all know by ‘local places’ you mean bars. no sex unless you solve the case, and if you solve the case, no sex because you have to report back to us.”

“so no sex?” he plays along, acting all offended.

“nope!” you confirm, giving a firm shake of your head. 

dean’s already on his way out the door as he chimes, “no promises!”

“seriously!” sam calls after him, “we need info!” he groans and shakes his head when the only response he gets is the shutting of the door. when he doesn’t make a snarky comment about dean to you, you clench your jaw.

“sam.” it takes a lot of willpower to sound bothered by him, rather than say his name all sweet.

“mhmm?” he’s purposely keeping his gaze on his computer and his response short.

you roll your eyes, “c’mon, can’t you just get over it? it’s not like you haven’t done stupider things to get a case done.”

since you insist on arguing about it, he lifts his gaze, looking unimpressed. “doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have done it. you almost got dean hurt.”

“and i already apologized for that!” you say indignantly, annoyed that that’s his argument. he knows full well, better than anyone, that dean can deal with a measly vamp, even if he wasn’t expecting it. “it’s not like dean can’t handle himself!”

“you should have at least run the plan by us,” he says. you roll your eyes again.

“it was a spur of the moment decision. unless you wanted me to shout it out, compromise my position, and let every single vamp in that nest know exactly what i was gonna do?” you retort. sam sighs, in the way that you can tell he knows your argument is better than his. so, you still can’t figure out why he’s still upset about it, outside of his usual stubbornness.

“it could’ve gone so wrong,” is all he can come up with, “and you know that. it was stupid, and you could’ve gotten hurt. or worse.” there it is. his voice changed when he said you could’ve gotten hurt.

it’s your turn to sigh, this time because you finally understand. it makes your heart flutter a little, and it makes you even more annoyed. “sam, i can handle myself. you know that. sure, it was kind of stupid, and not a fully thought out plan, but i had to figure out a way to get us out of there! four vamps were about to find you, so i had to distract them. easiest way was with my blood. one vamp found dean, but he handled that just as easy as he always does. i knew you’d have my back, so i let the other three come after me. and look! we’re all here, alive and kicking! this is such a stupid thing for you to get mad over.”

“it’s stupid for me to want you to be more careful?” he counters.

“sam, we have to take risks in this job, we do it all the time. that’s just how this works, what’s different about this time?” you question.

“just–” he presses his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he tries to come up with a reason that’s good enough. a reason that’s not “i worry about you,” because that’ll make you even more angry, make it sounds like he doesn’t think you’re a good enough hunter. and he certainly can’t explain that that’s not it, he worries because the worst possible thing to him is you getting hurt. because then you’d ask why and he wouldn’t be able to tell you the truth.

“can’t we just be done with this?” you ask, and the tone of your voice is one he can’t deny. you’re upset, bothered, and tired of his pettiness. more so, you’re just plain old tired. it takes too much effort to stay upset with one another. he lets your question sit in the air for a moment longer.

“yeah,” he relents, voice quiet now. he’s holding back words, touches, feelings. he wants to tell you, “just please don’t put yourself in danger, it scares me. i get so worried. it makes me want to pull you close and protect you even though i know you don’t need it. that’s why i’m upset.” he wants to get up from the couch and set his computer across from yours, sit across from you, just so you’re a little bit closer. he wants to touch you so bad that it sort of hurts.

instead, he has to live for the relieved breath that huffs out through your nose, so quiet it couldn’t quite be counted as a sigh.

“good,” you say, voice matching his own quietness. there’s still tension hanging between you, but soon enough, it’ll dissipate altogether, and tomorrow, you’ll be back to joking with one another, brushing shoulders, and hiding how in love with each other you are. maybe he can even convince you to share his bed tonight. the couch is horridly uncomfortable.

only after you’re convinced that sam won’t be all pissy to you until the next time you find something silly to be angry about do you begin on your research. it’s just as fruitless as everything else today, and after hours searching and drawing banks, you go back to the interviews, jotting down all the details you can remember in case seeing it on paper helps something new and useful jump out at you.

all you get is a dull ringing in your ear, probably courtesy of some old motel appliance. but the ringing grows louder, and in your tired state, it becomes completely bothersome. you press your hand against your left ear—it’s loudest there—and shut your eyes. it’s been an hour or two since sam has shifted to sit across from you to escape the digging springs of the couch, so the movement catches his attention quickly.

“you alright?” he asks, already with a little pinch of his eyebrows in worry.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” you say, realizing the ringing must be the beginning of a headache, since sam can’t seem to hear it. “just a headache,” you explain.

“want me to get you some advil?” he offers.

“no, no that’s alright, i’ve got it,” you deny, but you don’t get up. your head doesn’t really hurt, and the ringing fades as fast as it appeared. you’re about to sigh in relief, when suddenly, you’re sort of breathless, and you gasp to take in air. the moment passes, and you shake your head to yourself a little. it’s weird until you remember that sam’s looking at you with that little furrow to his brow, sweet and concerned, like the last thing he wants is for you to be in pain, even if it’s just a measly headache. that look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you and only you is certainly enough to take your breath away. it just took you by surprise this time.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, worried by your gasp.

“mhmm,” you hum, trying to keep your tone light and trying not to look too hard into his pretty hazel eyes. “jus’ hurt for a second, but i think the headache’s gone away.”

“okay,” he relents, not fully convinced, but willing to take your word for it and refocus on his computer screen. you turn your own attention back to the papers in front of you, away from his face, so close that it sends your heart into wild palpitations every time your mind wanders from the case and to his presence. in other words, it happens often.

you’re determined to find something, some detail that clicks and leads you to anything important. but after another unfocused hour, your eyelids are heavy, almost as much as your head as you wish to just sink down and fall asleep right there on that little table.

“you should get some sleep,” sam says, no stranger to the way you look when you should quit being stubborn and just go to bed. and normally, you’d resist, but the idea of sleep, of closing your eyes and letting your breath even out, slow down, is far too inviting.

so, you relent, and close your laptop. “yeah,” you say as you shuffle the sheets of paper together and set them on a neat pile on top of your computer.

“take the bed, too,” he insists, “you look exhausted.”

“mm, glad to hear it,” you joke halfheartedly, “but, no, sam, that couch is too small for you. it’s small for me, even.”

“and it’s seriously uncomfortable,” he adds.

“so we’ll share. i’ll leave space for you. you should come to bed soon, too. ‘s not like we should wait up for dean,” you snicker. sam rolls his eyes, but easily agrees with your conclusion. as you settle into the covers of the motel bed, you consider waiting up for him so you can feel the dip of the bed, then the warmth that radiates off him as he lays beside you. you want to feel the brush of his long arms, the heel of his foot or nudge of his toe, sometimes you’re treated with the broad expanse of his back. but sleep claims you before you can even make the attempt.

sam’s big hand on your shoulder brings you back into consciousness, and you breathe in long and hard since it seems like you can’t quite fill your lungs. then your eyes flutter open, and sam’s figure is hovering over yours, his hand lingering, then slipping away as he sees you wake. he doesn’t stand fully upright yet, unsure if he should say something or not.

he keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert dean, who’s changing in the bathroom. “are you feeling fine?”

groggy as you sit up, you peek at the clock. 8:43. you slept through the 8:30 alarm. odd.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you answer, voice gravelly from the morning’s first use, “why?”

sam shifts to sit on the bedside opposite you. “nothing just… i don’t know, you were just breathing really light last night. i could barely even tell you were breathing at some points and normally you breathe pretty noticeably while you sleep. and, you know, given this case, i just wanted to check.”

sam notices the way you breathe when you sleep. that’s just about all you can take away from his words. sam pays enough attention to the way you breathe when you sleep to know when your breathing is different. sam thinks about the way that you breathe. maybe that’d be creepy from anyone else, but you think about the way he breathes too. the way it lulls you to sleep when he’s close, the way it catches when he’s surprised, or the way it changes when he’s about to laugh.

then you remember he’s said something you’re supposed to address. “it’s nothing, sam. i feel totally fine, just tired from working back to back cases, is all.” you say this because you’re sure of it; you do feel just fine. and sam makes you breathless all the time, so there's nothing out of the ordinary there.

“are you sure?” he presses, “you slept straight through the alarm, like a rock.”

“i’m sure,” you say.

“okay,” you can immediately tell that he’s not entirely convinced as he says this, “but if anything happens or changes or you feel like you’re out of breath, you promise to tell me or dean?”

“of course.” you may not want to be fussed over, but you certainly don’t want to go out in such a stupid, horrible way. “i promise,” you add, just for his sake. dean’s phone starts ringing, and he appears out of the bathroom.

“either way, let’s get this case done, and quick,” sam insists.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” you agree, throwing off the covers to get ready for the day.

dean’s voice keeps you from lingering by sam’s side. “hey, crazy kids, let’s hurry it up. just got off the phone with the sheriff, there was another death last night.”

“dammit,” you and sam swear in unison. 

on the way to the scene, dean updates you on his findings from last night. he was just as unsuccessful as you in finding major dirt on any of the victims, though he recieved similar testimonials to the sister’s about the first, henry. otherwise, he was able to find the witch’s possible hunting ground in a bar where all three victims have been seen with their partners. sam reports that he’s getting close to finding the right spell after discovering a few similar ones. 

when you reach the victim’s house, sam and dean check in with the police officers, and you immediately head to interview whoever found the victim’s body. he’s obviously distraught, and probably still in shock from losing his boyfriend. you do your best to stay gentle, kind, and understanding as you lead him through the interview, interrupting your questions for the occasional “he sounds like he was a wonderful partner,” or other such comforting phrase as the man, tyler, rambles about how great he was, how guilty he feels, and just about nothing helpful except for adding another data point to the one pattern you have.

“thank you for your help,” you say, giving him a tight lipped smile before standing and drifting over to sam on instinct as you mull over the information you recieved. he’s poking around in the kitchen, subtly searching for anything abnormal and most likely coming up empty as this house follows the unhelpful trend of the rest.

“anything?” he asks once you’re by his side.

you shake your head, “just the madly in love bit. everything was pretty much the same as the other vics as well.” sam sighs like he expected that answer.

“i think we should look more into the first victim,” he suggests, echoing the same thought that you had. “maybe interview natalie again, see if she admits something different about henry if we push it a little.”

“i agree, though i’d say let’s hold off on interviewing her again unless we can’t find the spell soon. even if she admits that he wasn’t as good to her as she said before, i’m not sure how much good that does in comparison to the spell. if you keep looking into that, i’ll check henry’s records more thoroughly. i looked into him less last night since we already had something on him.” you revise the plan a bit, and sam nods in agreement, making that sort of awkward face with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised that he does when someone without the knowledge you have comes in hearing range. you glance behind you to see the figure of a police officer through the kitchen doorway and are fast to quit all talk of spells and witches to avoid sounding insane.

“dean can scout out the bar again to see if this most recent couple frequented there as well,” sam puts the last piece in place for your plan, just as you imagined it. once it seems like there’s nothing left to glean from the house, you grab dean and head out back to the car. the brothers walk a bit ahead of you as sam fills dean in on the plan.

“excuse me! agent,” a voice calls from behind you. the three of you turn, and you wave the two of them away to indicate that you’ll deal with it.

“yes?” you respond as an officer approaches.

“your partner asked for the full coroner’s reports on paper from the first three victims,” she says, holding out a file as she reaches you.

“ah! right. thank you, officer.” you give her a polite smile and take the papers before turning away. sam and dean have made it to the impala, parked a bit away due to the police cars surrounding the house. you jog at a casual pace to catch up, but falter about halfway there as your breaths turn all shuddery and quick. you stop, trying to right yourself and desperate to brush this off, but you just keep gulping in breaths, feeling like you’ve run a mile at top speed without warming up. 

shit. shit, shit, shit, is all you can think. fuck.

as you stare at the car, dean’s already in the front seat and sam is pulling the passenger’s door open, and you will with all your might that neither of them will turn to look for you. you don’t want them to catch you like this. instead, you want to explain it to them, calm and collected and full of breath because your body’s beginning to readjust and you should be fine to walk over in moments and dammit– sam’s twisted around to find you, his hands resting on the top of the car and the door. the second he catches sight of you, just standing there with your chest heaving up and down, he’s launched himself away from the car and towards you. he calls your name, worry flooding his voice. you had tried to recompose yourself the second you saw his head turning, but it was too late, and now he’s jogging your way.

sam is in front of you in moments, his hands on your shoulders and his face fallen in a deep frown.

“you’re not okay, are you?”

“i– i’m–,” you can’t think of what to say, and though your breath is returning to normal, you can’t deny him. “let’s just get in the car. please.” 

his jaw clenches and his eyes flick all over you, from the top of your head to the point of your shoes like he always looks at you when he thinks you might be hurt. he’s taking you in, quick and almost panicked so he can fix it right away. he takes a steadying breath because he’s so ovewrought he can barely think. “fine,” he says, voice carefully hushed. if he doesn’t control it, he might start shouting, panicking even. sam can’t bear to leave you untouched now, so he leaves a hand splayed on your shoulder blade as you finish the short walk to the car. he opens the back door and climbs right in, completely foregoing his spot in the passenger’s seat. you realize he wants to sit in the back with you, and it would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t because you’re probably dying.

jaw clenched, you follow him in, and dean’s already twisted around in his seat, gaze shifting between the two of you to try and read what just happened.

“what was that all about?” he questions, eyebrows raised. you put a hand on sam’s knee to stop him from telling dean.

“the witch got me,” you drop the news without much hesitation, more focused on getting your two cents in before either of them start grilling you with questions and making stupid suggestions to try and fix it, “it’s gotta be someone we met or passed by yesterday. one of the people we interviewed or someone from the diner we had lunch at; these types of spells normally require the victim’s dna. and before either of you do anything stupid or crazy, we’re gonna stick with the same plan. dean, you can drop us at the motel so we can find the spell and reversal, and you find out what you can at the bar. got it?”

dean looks at you like you’re crazy, and you ignore sam’s gaze altogether. 

“got it?” dean repeats back to you, incredulous, “not so much, kid, i’m gonna need you to explain this to me a little better. what do you mean the witch got you? you mean you’re gonna stop breathing in some odd hours that might not be enough time for us to find and gank this witch?”

“yes, dean, that’s what i mean. try to keep up,” you turn a little mean as your frustration takes over in order to compensate for your growing fear. “and i’m not going to die, so quit being so pessimistic. we’ll find the witch, as long as we stay focused on the plan. unless you have a faster way, which i’d be happy to abide by.” neither have a good enough retort to that, so you continue, “can we go now? we might not have that much time.”

with much effort, dean turns back in his seat and starts the engine. his voice is low when he asks, “what do you mean by that?”

“well, i don’t know exactly when this whole thing started!” you answer as he pulls into the street, “sam said my breathing wasn’t totally normal last night. if that means anything, well, i went to bed early last night, around eleven. that could mean it’s been at least, i don’t know,” you check the time, “eleven hours. which gives us five, minimum.” you think you can physically feel sam tense up next to you.

“five hours?” sam repeats, his voice taut, like he’s holding back anger, fear, maybe more. “and were there any times before that you felt out of breath?” 

you think back to yesterday. sure, every time i looked at you, isn’t quite an answer that you can give. “um, i’m not sure,” you say, sounding more cryptic than casual, as you had meant. you see dean’s eyebrow raise through the rearview mirror.

“you’re not sure?” dean asks, unbelieving. the two brothers are starting to sound like a broken record as they repeat every other thing you say back to you.

“yeah. nothing comes to mind,” you say, more firmly this time.

sam sighs. “you can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to hide that sort of thing from us if it happened. this is serious.”

you scoff, “oh, really? i wasn’t aware, it’s not like it’s my life on the line, or anything like that.”

“alright, let’s not get pissy,” dean intervenes.

“pissy?” you scoff again, “right, because this is serious and i’m apparently unaware of that.”

dean says your name, voice a little chiding as he tries to disperse some of the tension that’s building within the small space of the car. “let’s focus on the case here. sam is right, we need to know everything you do. was there anything else weird you noticed last night?”

“i don’t know!” you exclaim before calming down a bit and taking a deep breath. “i had this ringing in my ears for a minute, around ten. i thought it was a headache. and … i did feel breathless, but just for a second. i thought it was … something else.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” sam asks, immediately remembering this. you had pressed your hand to your ear. he believed you when you said it was a headache, but he should have known better. you’re far more likely to rub your temples when you feel a headache coming on.

“i thought it was something else,” you repeat.

“like what?” he presses.

“like–” you hesitate, “like nothing. just nothing, i don’t know.”

dean interrupts again to get things back on track, “so that could mean four hours, not five.” you see sam’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye.

“yeah,” you confirm, hoping your voice doesn’t reveal how anxious you really are.

“my question is why just you?” dean asks. “i’d normally figure it’s because they suspect you to be a hunter, but if they were able to get your dna, they probably had access to ours, too. the witch think you’re madly in love with sammy or somethin’?”

you fluster at that, mind scrambling, why in the goddamn hell would dean say that? does he want me dead faster? “uhm, uh,” you laugh a little, completely awkward about it, “why would they think that? we were clearly, you know, in a working relationship, not a, hah– romantic,” you clear your throat, “relationship. i’m sure it’s just the hunter thing, maybe they couldn’t get your dna… or they thought i was more worth killing,” you attempt at a joking insult, but you’re still sort of jerking through your words and reeling from someone saying “you’re madly in love with sammy” out loud.

to your left, sam looks almost as flustered as you feel, which brings you an ounce of comfort.

“whatever you say,” dean shrugs.

when you get back to the hotel, sam’s practically running inside to pull out his laptop, and dean speeds away the second the car doors close behind the two of you. both of you are fidgety and antsy as you conduct your research in silence. you think sam’s even more nervous than you, with his leg bouncing and teeth chewing away at his lower lip. you’re not sure if you should comfort him, or let him be in favor of getting the research done. it doesn’t take too long for him to find the original spell, and as he tells you about it, some nervousness dissipates when the both of you get back into the groove of a normal hunt, trying to pretend that this time, the consequences aren’t as personal as they could ever get.

you can’t find any dirt on henry in any records, so you focus on staff from the bar and diner from yesterday to see if there’s any overlap that could have gotten dna from both you and all the other four victims. something else entirely jumps out at you as you check employment records.

“sam, it’s natalie,” you blurt out into the silence of the room. he raises his eyebrows, and you explain before he can even ask. “she works at the bar. and i drank some of that lemonade she gave us. she had easy access to everyone’s dna, and henry was the only deviation from the pattern.”

sam stands as you explain, “okay, let’s go.”

“no, let’s call dean and finish finding the reversal spell. i’d like to have a backup plan, if that’s alright.” sam purses his lips, looking like he wants to argue. you propose something more rational than his idea, “we’ll call dean and let him know. he can go to her house and make sure she’s the real deal before we go, too.”

“fine,” sam agrees, pulling out his phone, just as it begins to ring. he answers it and puts it on speaker, “dean, it’s natalie.”

“yeah, i know. that’s what i was about to tell you, the idiots from last night didn’t bother to mention it,” he complains. “i’m headed to her house right now.” to prove it, you hear the car door open and close. “how’s it going on your end?”

“we found the spell, we’re looking for the reversal right now,” you answer. “call us if you need help.”

“mm, you just take care o’ yourself, alright? i’ll call you back.” after that, all you get is the hang-up tone. 

a bit later, your concentration is interrupted by the pinging of sam’s phone. you watch him as he checks the messages, then looks up at you with a poorly hidden scowl.

“she wasn’t at her house,” he explains, “dean’s headed to her sister’s to look for her there. but it’s definitely her, he found a secret room full of, y’know, as he’d say, ‘witchy stuff.’”

you try to hide your disappointment and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. sam’s stayed mostly focused on the research, but every now and then, you feel him looking you over, brow furrowed and eyes concerned as he checks for anything abnormal. he’s looking at you like that now.

“damn,” is all you manage in response while still trying to stay casual about it.

“how are you feeling?” he asks. you expected the question, but you still don’t want to answer. you’re about to tell him you’re fine, since you’re not really running out of breath yet, until he speaks again before you can, “and don’t say ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” you insist immediately, “just extra tired from getting a little less oxygen than normal. but nothing crazy. i can still focus on this research and i can still hold a weapon.” you demonstrate by grabbing one of the knives you keep strapped to your thigh and twirling it a little in your hand. sam’s face spells out the word “really?”

“just– tell me if it gets worse. please,” he’s just about begging, and with a bit of puppy dog eye action, you’re crumbling.

“okay, sam,” you relent, letting your voice go soft. he’s really scared for you, and it makes you feel just about every little thing. you want to comfort him, reassure that you’ll be okay, even when you’re terrified for yourself. you want him to comfort you, for that exact reason, and you want to hold his hand. maybe you can be scared together, a little closer than you are now. you want to kiss him, because what if this is the only chance you get? that thought horrifies you. then you wonder if it’s for the best. maybe you should die as his best friend, because dying as his anything is better than scaring him away first. it’s hard to concentrate on the research, but it’s not hard to find the motivation. the hope is to avoid death completely.

finally, you find it.

“i got it, sam!” you’re excited, then a bit breathless after pushing so much air out of your lungs so fast. the breath you take in is sort of shuddering, and it makes sam frown. he doesn’t even try to hide how worried he is. his face is nothing but unadulterated concern and care and … and something else before that expression melts away and he’s focusing on the computer screen that you tilted towards him. the crease between his brows only grows as his eyes flit down the list of ingredients.

“we don’t have the half of these ingredients,” he worries.

“no,” you admit, “but there’s a witch in town who’s away from home who might.”

to get there, sam doesn’t hesitate to steal a car from the motel parking lot, and this time you can’t even argue given the fact that you’re pretty sure you have less than two hours to live at this point. you promised sam you’d tell him if it got worse, but as it does, you want to say something less and less.

sam picks the lock of the door, entering the house carefully with you right behind. weapons drawn, you walk the route that dean gave you to the hidden room, the door in the wall of the hallway left open for you by dean.

it’s much darker than the rest of the house from the lack of windows and bright lights. this, paired with the eerie assortment of basic herbs to what might be jars of blood, makes it look like natalie really leaned into the witchy aesthetic, which you’d find understandable if she weren’t using her magic to kill people.

sam walks faster than you know is wise to match paces with, so you follow behind him slowly as he rushes to set the computer with the list of ingredients on the table in the center of the room abd begin the spell. you’re a split second too late to shout in warning when you see a figure emerge from behind a shelf of herbs.

sam whirls around at your cry, gun raised, only to be hit on the side of the head, hard, by a wooden bat in natalie’s hand. he crumples to the ground despite his size, and without batting an eye, your knife is flying through the air, straight for the spot between natalie’s shoulder blades. but at the last second, she spins around, and with a flick of her hand, the knife falls to the ground. you reach for your gun, but through your hindered breathing, you’re slow. she has no trouble launching the bat at you at an unnatural speed. the wood slams into your chest, sending you sprawling and gasping in your weakened state. you’re fighting for breath so hard that you can barely register her hauling you up and tying your hands behind your back, then doing the same to sam. somehow, she’s able to get his weight on a chair and tie him to the wobbly piece of furniture. then, it’s your turn, and by the time you come back to your senses, breathing far more labored than before, you’re tied to a chair, back to back with sam.

natalie gives you a horrid smile as she tugs at a knot to tighten it.

“well, isn’t this fortuitous! such a lovely surprise for you two to visit me,” she chimes, just as you feel sam stirring behind you. his head lolls back, brushing against your own. you completely ignore her in favor of calling his name. a rumbling groan escapes his lips as he stumbles back into consciousness.

“that’s right!” natalie grins, “it’ll be much better with pretty boy awake.” she walks around you, and you hear a smacking sound that you presume to be her hitting his cheeks to wake him further.

“don’t touch him,” you practically growl. it sounds far less intimidating than you hoped in your breathless voice. she laughs and sam lets out an audible huff of air as he wakes.

“there he is,” natalie grins. “now i’ve got two love birds at my mercy! much better than i could have imagined. you know, i couldn’t watch the deaths of the others, so this is far more exciting. i thought i’d have to miss yours, too!” she motions to you. “but now i get to watch you die, watch pretty boy watch you die, and then kill him, too! lovely isn’t it? i’ve never had such luck, thank you idiots for bringing it to me.”

“you’re not killing anyone today,” sam retorts, anger filling his voice. with a bit of an uncomfortable stretch, you twist your fingers around to grab a hold of his. it’s awkward, but you take advantage of her horrible ramblings to keep her distracted and try to guide sam’s hands to the tiny blade attached to the seam of your jacket sleeve.

“i’m not?” she laughs, “mmm, you don’t really seem like you’re in the position to determine that, pretty boy.” you hate her calling him that. “well, love will do that to a person. makes you easy targets, blinds you. you two were just too easy, so busy making eyes at each other to pay any proper attention to me.” you conclude she’s crazy, rambling on about what made her angry enough to kill. you’re sure she caught you making eyes at him, but she’s crazy talking like he’s visibly in love with you too. immediately catching on to your plan, sam’s hands are fumbling around with your jacket sleeve, trying to get the knife unstuck so it can slip down and into your hands.

“it’s so goddamn irritating when people are just so in love with each other. makes me want to hurl,” she complains.

“sounds to me like you’re just jealous your boyfriend didn’t treat you like that,” you prod at her weak spot. she whirls on you, grabbing the front of your jacket and yanking you towards her.

“so i killed him. and everything he was supposed to be,” she hisses. “and know i’m going to kill you two pining idiots. you know, you don’t have very long,” she feigns sympathy in the condescending tone of her voice. when she slams you back against the chair, it takes your breath away for a frighteningly long time. sam’s so worried, calling your name out over and over again as you choke on nothing, that he almost doesn’t realize that the movement also helped dislodge the knife and let it fall into your hands. it slices a thin line down your arm, but you couldn’t care less as you begin to work on cutting through his bonds.

“oh, shut up, lover boy,” natalie growls, hating the way he says your name with so much care as she stays leaning over you, a sick smile on her face. why the hell is she calling him lover boy? you know that’s not what you should be so worried about in this moment, but it’s the one thing that you can think about. “i’m busy watching your little lover die! i think you’ll look so good crying over them, won’t you?”

when sam’s ties snap, he stays in place, holding onto the rope so it doesn’t drop to the ground and alert her. he just shimmies the knife from your hand to his and begins working on your own ties. through it all, he pretends to struggle helplessly, cursing at her wildly.

natalie rolls her eyes, then stands straight. “if you don’t shut it, i’m going to make you,” she snarls, stalking around to stand in front of sam. in an instant, he brings the knife to the rope binding him to the chair, snapping it and lunging towards her. judging from the choked cry that escapes her throat, sam’s already plunged the knife into her neck. you hear him grunt, then the sound of her body hits the floor before he’s turned back to you, quickly freeing you all the way and pulling you to your feet. he’s halfway to the door with his hand gripping yours when you tug back.

“wait… sam, wait!” you gasp, and he’s immediately face to face with you, sweet eyes looking you up and down with confusion and worry. “it’s not– it didn’t work. the spell, we need to do the spell.”

“what do you mean? that’s impossible, killing the witch who performed the spell always–,” he fully takes you in for the first time. your chest is still heaving, your breath rattling, and it’s undeniably getting worse by the minute. “okay, okay. just sit down.” he guides you back to a chair, turning it to face the table so he can keep an eye on you as he works. this time, you’re having a hard time hiding the fear from your eyes, and he reads that loud and clear. he lets you have his strong hands cupping your face for just a moment. “you’re gonna be fine. i’m gonna fix this.” he says it with such conviction that you’d do anything to believe him. then his warm touch is gone, and you’re again hit with the reality that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, to get any satisfactory amount of air.

your eyes follow him desperately as he rushes about the area, checking and rechecking the spell as he adds ingredients to a small cup he finds. his movements become more and more panicked by the second as he notices your breathing getting worse, more fluttery and gulping. sam’s muttering to himself as he works, too scared to look at your face for too long. unable to find one of the ingredients, he curses loudly as he searches, shoving a whole rack of ingredients to the ground. glass shatters and the metal rack clangs against the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space.

flinching at the sound, you cry out his name, struggling to speak, “you have… you have to.. to calm .. calm down.”

“i can’t!” he practically shouts, and you think you’ve never seen him this distraught, this helpless before.

“why?” is all you can manage between gasps.

“because you’re dying! and i can’t let you die, i won’t.” he’s still rummaging through ingredients as he speaks. he’s still refusing to look at you.

you want him to say it, the truth, so you repeat the question, “why?” you wheeze out, desperate to hear it in case he can’t finish the spell on time.

“because i love you!” he’s no longer shouting when he says it. his voice is all desperation and helplessness and utter sincerity, said like all he needs in the world is for you to understand that. you’re not sure if the shuddering breath you let out could count as a sigh of relief, but it’s the closest you’ll ever get.

you take him in. tears running down his cheeks, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched like he’s holding back from crying out. he’s pretty like that, you think. maybe that’s a cruel thought, but you love him too much to think otherwise. he’s always pretty; when he’s mad at you, when he’s bleeding, when he’s stitching himself up, when he’s biting his lip in concentration. when he talks about something that makes him excited or when he’s crying. when he’s oblivious of the way you look at him while he sleeps, and when he makes you love him so hard that it hurts worse than anything a monster could do to you.

you’re lightheaded, and taking in so little air that you can’t say it back. all you want to do is say it back. you slide out of the chair and onto your hands and knees, shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. from the ground, you can hear sam, moving around, letting jars fall and shatter to the ground, crying.

when you collapse to the floor, writhing and gasping for any semblance of air, sam snaps. he can’t find the goddamn rosemary, such a simple and common herb, even for a normal kitchen, especially compared to all the other ingredients, but he knows it’s essential for its protection, purification, and healing properties. he can’t give up, he can’t let you die, but you’re writhing on the ground and crying inbetween gasps and all he wants is to hold you close, brush your tears away and tell you it’ll be alright. he barely catches the sound of your voice over the noise of his searching.

“please…”

“what? what is it, honey?” he asks through tears, unable to look at you as his eyes scan a new shelf for the basic pine-needle shape of the leaves, maybe even the little purple flowers to help it stand out.

“hold me,” you wheeze, afraid of dying alone on the stone cold floor as you feel your consciousness slipping through your fingertips like the sand of an hourglass. sam feels like he’s had his heart cleaved in two by a blunt ax coated in the world’s most vile poison.

he chokes on a sob before he can speak again, “i can’t. i’m so sorry, baby, i can't. i just need the rosemary, it’s so close, please, baby.” he’s not sure who he’s begging to. you, to stay alive? god, to intervene? himself, to finish the spell on time? anything and anyone who will listen, most likely. you don’t have the energy to ask him to hold you again.

that moment of silence is the most horrible of them all, then the door swings open with a bang, letting the bright lights from the rest of the house flood into the dark space. dean’s eyes zero in on you on the floor, grasping helplessly at your throat, and he’s on his knees by your side in a second.

he scoops you up in his arms and to his chest. “hey. hey, hey, hey. it’s okay,” he comforts, his eyes wet because he doesn’t know if he believes himself, given your state. “sam’s gonna fix it, darlin’. you’re gonna be just fine.” he’s holding you too tight to wipe away the tears that helplessly stream down your face and he clings to the fact that your hand is gripping his wrist tight.

“dean, rosemary!” sam barks. dean looks up from you, eyes scanning the mess around you; natalie’s dead body and the blood from her wound seeping slowly over the floor, the shattered glass and clutter of dried herbs along with other magical ingredients. sam realizes dean probably won’t recognize it on his own. “dried bundle, purple flowers, thin leaves,” he instructs as best as he can as he continues his own search. dean feels awful as he lets you fall back to the ground and your weak hands fingers scrape at his arms, but he thinks he sees it, rolled far away and invisible unless you’re crouched to the ground. he scrambles across the floor to grab it and tosses it to sam, who barely manages to catch it with his shaking hands.

sam rips at it with thick, clumsy fingers, crushing the brittle leaves between the pads of his forefinger and thumb into the mixture. he’s silently praying it’s enough as he mixes it in, letting a few drops slosh over the side of the cup in his rush. dean’s back with you, holding you up in a sitting position for sam with a hand smoothing up and down your arm in his best effort of a comforting gesture. he presses a kiss to your temple as sam drops down in front of you. sam uses one large hand to cup the side of your face, and the other to bring the cup to your lips. for a moment, he’s terrified beyond comprehension when the first bit of the liquid he pours into your mouth just dribbles right back out and down your chin.

you’ve gone nearly completely still; your eyes are barely open and your breathing so shallow that only dean knows you’re still inhaling because he’s got you so close.

“please,” sam begs, whispering your name with such conviction, such desperation, that it pulls you away from the claws of unconsciousness just enough to get you to swallow weakly. sam tilts the cup up, just a bit more, and the rim knocks against your bottom teeth as more foul tasting liquid seeps into your mouth. you swallow again, then gag a little when he pours too much for you to handle in your current state. sam’s hopeful when half the mixture is down your throat and he tilts the cup for you again, but the liquid falls down your chin this time, and your eyes are closed. you’ve gone totally still in dean’s arms.

“no, no, no, wake up. c’mon, we’re almost there. you gotta wake up,” sam begs again, more tears spilling onto his cheeks after his hope is stolen away, more cruelly than ever. “please, please, please, honey. please wake up.” his voice breaks as he calls out your name again, setting the cup on the floor and taking you from dean to pull you into his own arms. dean lets him, swallowing hard and not daring to move an inch as he takes in the sight, maybe just about the most horrible thing he’s seen in his fucked up life. that’s the second family member he’s had die in his arms, and the first is holding your limp body as he shakes, cries, and begs, beyond distraught as he denies the fact that he couldn’t save you. dean curses his life. he wishes it was him, thinks about the fact that he’s always too late to make a difference. he’s ready to sell his soul again, ready to go to hell and back.

you’re dead weight against sam’s chest, your clammy forehead and tear-sticky cheeks pressed against the sweaty skin of his neck. he gathers you closer, his hand tugging at your jacket and rubbing up and down your back, begging for you to wake up.

dean’s about to interrupt sam’s mourning to tell him he’s gonna look for the nearest crossroads, that all sam needs to do is keep your body safe. then you shudder in sam’s arms and he’s calling your name again, far beyond desperate that you’ll hear him. he says your name like a prayer, with so much reverence, far more than he could ever muster up for the god he wants to believe in.

you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, and you’re gasping for air, grasping at sam’s sturdy arms like you’ve almost just drowned. sam just about sobs in relief, comforting you through his own tears, “oh, you’re okay, honey, you’re alright. i’ve got you. just breathe, baby, just breathe, that's all you gotta do.” his voice instantly calms you, and you wrap your shaky arms around his neck to show him you understand. he’s got you. he buries his face into your neck, trying not to hold you too tight for fear of restricting your breathing. you feel the wetness of his tears on you, warm and so tired. you don’t want him to cry. he loves you.

his hands smooth up and down your back, helping you set a pace to calm down your erratic breathing as you let a fresh wave of tears fall on his hot skin. they’re tears of relief, most of all. of exhaustion and leftover fear, and oh, glory, tears because he loves you. he said it, and now he can’t take it back because you love him far too much for that.

“sammy,” you breathe out. he just holds you tighter. “don’t cry, sam. it’s okay. i’m okay.” you slip your fingers into his hair, your hand so gentle as you run it through his pretty locks. you just want to comfort him, take away all the fear from the last few hours that he's been holding onto, letting pile up and up into an unmanageable, unruly, ugly tower. you suppose him crying so much is him letting the tower topple over, almost as simple as a toddler’s chubby, innocent hands to a wooden block castle. but it still tugs at your heart, pulls at you so hard because you hate to hear him cry, feel him shake and stiffen up around you, too scared to let you go for even a second. “i’m okay,” you repeat, voice fragile from the whispering brush of death’s fingers to your palm, but you try to make it strong and confident for him, “you saved me, sammy, i’m alright. it’s alright. it’s over. you don’t need to worry anymore.” 

you think he relaxes just a touch at your words, but he doesn’t move an inch from his spot on the ground, or say a thing to interrupt the sound of your breathing. all he does is cradle you close, one hand to your back so he can feel it shift when you take in or let out air, and the other splayed from the curve of your neck, up to the base of your head. without moving too much, he presses a long kiss to the ambiguous space above your ear. that’s not enough, so he tilts his head more to press his lips to the skin of your forehead.

dean hates to break the silent reverence between the two of you, and it means more than the world, the whole goddamn universe or anything else he could ever think of, to see this instead of you dead in sam’s arms. you might be the love of sam’s life, but that just makes dean all the more protective of you. to dean, you’re family, and you have been for a long time. that’s why he needs to get the two of you away from here, before anyone finds you and the dead body.

“sam,” dean interrupts, voice somehow both gentle and extra gruff, “we gotta go.” he knows sam can get you up on his own, but he still places a firm hand on your elbow as the two of you stand. he doesn’t want to let his hand fall away from you, but he does anyway. on the way out and to the car, you’re tucked safe into sam’s side, and dean’s got his gun in hand, ready to protect the both of you need be.

dean expects it when sam climbs in the backseat with you, just thankful to get away from the damned house and back to the motel. the ride is mostly silent, save the rumble of the engine, and sam’s hand stays securely wrapped around yours, itching to pull you even closer. you yawn and sam tugs at your hand, then drops his gaze to his lap when you look at him, offering to let you lie there. you can’t resist, because historically, your head in his lap has been heaven, and you figure that this time, after having heard him say “i love you,” it’ll be something better than heaven, something undiscovered and infinitely more precious than all the gold and silver in the world. so you drop your head to his thigh, and his hands are immediately on you. you’ve got the warmth of his palms on your head and your shoulder. your own hand is on his knee, taking in the feel of his time-worn jeans, and the muscle, sinew, and bone underneath.

you fall asleep, just 10 minutes from the motel, and sam doesn’t want to wake you, but you always do anytime he tries to carry you to bed.

he calls your name, all tenderness and sweet as he rubs your shoulder. you stir easily, only having fallen into a light slumber. the sigh you let out when you sit up is soft, and sam thinks it’s cute. then he thinks about the fact that, when you both settle down, he won’t have to hold that thought back. “you’re cute,” he can say, and make you both a little flustered before pressing a kiss to your lips. until then, he’s getting out of the car with you, only letting his hands stray from you when dean pulls you into a hug, right then and there. he holds you tight, showing you how scared he was too, so you squeeze back with extra care.

“don’t scare us like that again, kiddo. you got it?” he mumbles into the embrace. 

you nod, “i got it.” he lingers for a moment, then presses a quick kiss to the side of your head before parting and letting sam take over again.

he’s got a hand stuck to your back on the way into the room, all the way to the bed you shared last night. you don’t hesitate to peel off your dirty shirt and go to put on a new one, but sam’s already holding one out to you. dean disappears into the bathroom, despite not wanting to let you out of his sight.

you tug on the shirt, then collapse into bed, taking sam with you.

“you stink,” you complain lightheartedly, looking at him with honey-sweet love in your eyes. he wants to joke back, but he’s not quite there yet.

“i’ll shower after dean, if you want,” he offers, nothing but sincere. you smile at him, his nose inches from yours.

“but then you’d have to get up,” you say.

“sure, but if that’s what you want,” he repeats. he’d do anything for you, you think.

you shake your head. “that’s not what i want. i don’t want you to go. but i also want to fall asleep in your arms, and it sucks that you smell like blood, sweat, and nasty potions.”

“so what do i do, baby?” he asks, voice light, but you think he really means it. you melt at the pet name.

“hmmm,” you consider, truly not sure. you’re all quick in the shower after years of experience in motel bathrooms, but that still feels like such a long time to be away from him, especially since you should probably shower, too. you decide to suck it up. “you shower, then me. dean said the water was still hot yesterday, even when he went last.” you’re not sure when your voice dropped to a whisper, but it’s quiet now. he sighs, half disappointed, but knowing it’ll be much more comfortable that way.

the second you’re out of the shower and dressed, sam’s tugging you back into bed with him and tucking you into his chest. his hold is still protective and a little wary. you want to make him relax, so you wiggle away just a bit to look at his face.

“sam, i’m so hungry,” you complain. he smiles at you, thinking you’re too cute to resist when you whine just a little. and he just loves it when you say his name.

“you’re gonna make me get up again?” he asks, and you hold back a triumphant grin because his voice has turned pleasantly lighthearted.

“you’re gonna let me starve?” you tease back.

“fine,” he huffs, “we can go to the vending machine together.” he really doesn’t want to be far from you.

“no,” you protest, dragging out the ‘o’ just a little. “we had that earlier. and chips don’t count as a meal. poor dean probably hasn’t eaten at all today! we deserve a treat,” you argue.

sam can’t deny you anything you want in this moment. “we do,” he agrees, “what d’you want? maybe we can convince dean to pick it up for us.”

you smile. “mmm, that’s not fair. dean deserves a treat, too. i’ll satisfy myself with vending machine food for a few hours, then we can go out to an early dinner.”

“are you sure?” sam asks. you smile more.

“mhmm,” you nod. “i have the excuse to buy a candy bar too now.”

dean, splayed out on his own bed, has likely been listening in on this whole conversation, and graciously chosen not to interrupt. he smiles at you as you exit the room.

with a glance that no one’s around, sam slips his hand into yours as you make your way to the vending machine down the hall. your heart blooms at the feeling, at the way he’s been looking at you without shame and suddenly you realize you never said it back. sam punches in the number for an excessive amount of snacks, getting all of yours, his, and dean’s favorites, waiting til they all fall down to collect them. he bends over, gathering them all in his big arms and wide pockets and handing a few to you. the crinkling of plastic fills the quiet air as you watch him with a sort of worship and adoration dripping from your eyes. you take in the curve of his back, the peek of his spine that you get from his tshirt riding up a bit, and the pretty brown hair on the back of his head. when he stands, he catches that gaze, and for once you don’t hide it away or tuck it into that corner of the drawer where you keep all the little trinkets you don’t need, but can’t bear to get rid of. because you need this, and you can have this.

“i didn’t get to say it back.” your voice comes out hushed, reverent.

“say what?” he asks, matching his voice to yours without even trying. you take in all the subtle ways that his face changes, as he thinks about what you could mean. the left side of his mouth quirks down, just a bit, and his eyebrows pinch together. it’s not quite the expression he makes then he’s worried or upset, just thinking.

“i love you, too.” when those words finally escape, finally make themselves known and heard, everything is different. it’s like you’ve never really breathed before this, because the simplest of things, like an inhale that fills your lungs with stale motel air, is so good, so satisfying, so much better when he looks at you like that. “for as long as i can remember, sam, i love you. when we were kids at bobby’s, seventeen and getting soaked in the rain, every moment before then and every moment after, and–”

his lips are on yours and there’s a messy ruckus of plastic wrapped snacks being dropped to the floor, because he couldn’t care about anything except kissing you. his warm, rough hands are so gentle cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and you follow suit in disregarding the food in your hands to place them firm on his waist, almost squeezing his sides because you need this to be as real and as solid as it possibly can be.

some might question the merit of this being your first kiss with each other. but it’s so you and sam, standing in an empty motel hallway next to the vending machine and it’s crappy food scattered around your feet. plastic crinkling and rustling when you get closer, and a hunger so insatiable that it makes it hard to breathe.

when you finally break away, panting just a bit, sam’s eyes swim with concern as his mind flashes back to you just an hour ago.

“i’m okay,” you interrupt his paranoid thoughts and loop your arms around his neck, “i’m okay, sam. ‘s just you. baby, i know this is a horrible time to say this, but you always take my breath away, in the best way. you’re so pretty, and i’m so in love with you that when i look at you for too long, i forget to breathe, and–”

his lips are back on yours, telling you me too, me too, me too. saying as they push and mold against yours, you take my breath away and i love you for it.

[knowyourplace-fool]

Bully gojo and shy oc !! Who always torments you and humiliates you. Makes you do all his works and you do out of fear. You don't question him and feels smug . He tells how he hates you( but actually he likes her a lot but he doesn't confess because ypu keep rejecting every guy so he thinks you don't accept him either) and tells you that you are just a burden on this earth but then you get into an accident and don't come to scl for a week. Gojo doesn't know what happened to you and can't find out cuz you don't have frnds either. After a week you come to schl with a bandage to your head and a fracture sling on your arm. He gets worried and clings onto you and tou lash out for the first time telling him that he got what he wanted and he could be happy now. He gets angry and kidnaps you and fucks you🙃

-> omfg YES! gojo is such a bully

-> sorry for any mistakes!

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

All you’ve ever done is mind your own business

Sure, you don’t have many friends but that doesn’t really bother you

You enjoy being independent. Your grades are high in the air, your part time job in your school is more than enough for you to live comfortably. (In this universe, inflation doesn’t exist)

You don’t really talk to anyone, not even family. Whole bunch of drama happened, and they were toxic so you ended up leaving them for university.

Everything seemed to be going as planned until a 6’4 menace walked into your life.

Gojo Satoru was your typical frat boy and the star of the university’s basketball team.

Some may even say the Golden Boy of your university. He was smart, athletic, had a good reputation among the professors and just with people in general. Not to mention, he was ridiculously handsome. Man literally had girls fighting over him.

You’ve seen him in the hallways but never actually interacted with him. He was in a few of your classes but luckily, you guys never were put together in a group.

Until today. Your prof is running a lab and gathered the smartest students he knows to do it for him. It’s kind of a two in one for him, the lab gets complete and you guys gain some experience.

Anyways, the group consists of you, Satoru and his friend Suguru and some other nerdy people

Now unlike Gojo, you already sorta knew Geto. He was really friendly and kind towards you so you were kind of excited to be working with him.

A few days into the lab and Gojo has a sudden fixation with you. Well he always had, but this lab is letting him work closely with you and it’s making his obsession worse.

You’re stupid if you think that Gojo Satoru hasn’t kept on eye out for you. Every time you walk by him in the halls, he gets a hard on just by catching a whiff of you. The cute skirts and the pastel closet you have drives him over the fucking edge.

It takes every cell in his body to resist the urge of grabbing ur wrist, pulling u into the janitors closet and fucking you absolutely dumb and stupid.

You look so cute and innocent, like a little bunny. And god, you are just an easy target to corrupt.

So, Gojo plans a party. A party on the following Saturday after your lab is complete because he knows that you’ll be free.

His plan is to get you to come, keep you company, get you a little hammered, then get a feel of your pussy. Simple plan.

It’s now up to Geto to get you to come to this party. And of course, for his best friend, he’s 100% on board with his plan.

All goes well in the lab and in your final days of completing the report, Geto asked the big question.

“Satoru and I are throwing a party tomorrow. If you’re free, we’d love for you to come. You can bring anyone you want.”

You blush. Party? Your first party? Your brain breaks out in celebration because as much as you liked to spend your weekend relaxing, you also have a severe case of fomo. (Fear of missing out)

Your eyes lit up, saying yes on the spot in excitement. The following day, you went back to your dorm and tore your closet apart, looking for a nice dress. You settled for a blue, body con, summer dress. (despite it not being a party dress but who gives af bc it’s summer)

The next night, you got all dolled up for the party. You made arrangements with Geto to pick you up. He made it on time, looking handsome in his all black fit with his hair in a bun.

You were excited… for nothing.

There was a party (a lit one), but you realized a little too late that your social skills were next to non existent. The whole time, you felt out of place. So you stood in the corner, drink in hand and watched others dance and interact with each other.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

You turn your head only to be faced with a bright blue eyed man, the one and only Gojo Satoru.

“I guess partying is not my thing.”

“Oh come on, come with me.”

He grabbed your hand and headed towards the beer pong table

You and Gojo were a team and surprisingly you two worked perfectly together

The alcohol in your system made you flush, and you found yourself loosening up a bit and having a bit of fun.

Gojo’s plan seemingly was rolling out perfectly. You were a bit drunk, so he took you back to his room to “sober up” (but it was just an excuse to get u alone so he can fuck u but u don’t know that)

Now listen, Gojo got rizz alright. So imagine the look on his face when he went in to kiss you and you slapped him so hard, his face turned the other way.

“I’m not some whore you can use for tonight. I was genuinely having a good time with you, I don’t know why you had to make it sexual.”

You felt like crying. Is this what all guys think about?? Sex?

You get off the bed and head towards the door before you’re pulled back and thrown on the bed

“Satoru, stop! I want to go home.”

And just like how you did with him, he slapped you. Much, much harder.

He didn’t say anything, he just had this look in his eyes that could honestly kill. He took a hold of your wrist with one hand and let his other roam and touch your body.

He pulled your dress up, revealing the lacy, white, underwear you wore. You were a teensy bit wet, not because of him but maybe the alcohol? Or his best friend?

You don’t know, but Gojo thought the wet spot was because of him.

“Tch, saying you don’t wanna hook up but you’re fucking wet f’me.”

He pulled you closer to the head board, reaching out to his night stand and pulling out,,,, cuffs?

“Wait wait wait wait!” You say in a panic. You squirm to get your wrist free but once you feel the metal snake around your wrists and the click afterwards, you were doomed.

Your dress was ripped off by him. Your panty was somewhere on the ground and he easily took off your bra by doing the same thing he did with your dress. You laid nude under him, against your will.

As you can imagine, the night went terribly for you. You weren’t a virgin but it had been a while since you had sex (all the way back in high school) and really it was your first time with someone so experienced.

The next morning, you woke up with him cuddling you from behind while his lanky legs were intertwined with yours

You somehow managed to escape his grip and sneak out of the house before anyone could notice. You did have work, but decided to call in because of… well for obvious reasons.

On Monday, you dreaded to go to school. But with midterms coming around the corner, you couldn’t afford to miss a lecture. You dressed in baggy clothes and took a different route to class to avoid Satoru.

The day was going alright until you had to go to the library to pick out a few books to help you on an assignment.

While you were reaching on your tippy toes, someone behind you grabbed the book which made you quickly turn around. Your eyes meet his bright, blue eyes.

“You’re avoiding me now?”

The anger that overcame you in that moment was indescribable. You wanted to scream at him, hit him, threaten him or somehow bring him down, but you couldn’t.

“Did I fuck you mute? Answer me.”

You took a deep breath in and said, “leave me alone”

“Why? What, you think you’re too good for me? That I don’t have enough worth to fuck you? Is that what it is?”

He grabbed your cheeks with one hand and squished them together, pushing you back against the bookshelf in the process. He was holding you so hard, you couldn’t move.

“Listen to me, you slut. Don’t get our roles mixed here. You’re literally a piece of shit next to me. You hold no value in this world. If you died, no one would even think twice about it because no one gives a flying fuck about you. You think you’re soooo fucking special or something. You think you’re too good for everyone. Well you’re not. You’re just a broke whore, with no friends, no family, no hobby— nothing.”

He roughly let’s go of your face that you nearly fall to the floor. You tried your best but couldn’t help but cry at his words. Gojo swings off his backpack, grabs a note package and hands it to you.

“This assignment is due tomorrow at noon. I haven’t gotten the chance to start it because of basketball. So you’re going to do it for me cause you’re a worthless, bunny that has nothing else to do after school hours. And before you think about handing in something stupid, take a look at this.”

He pulls out his phone and in a matter of 10 seconds, you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

A video. Of you. Getting fucked by the Gojo Satoru. It’s evident that you’re crying but it’s easy to cover it up with an “excuse”. Your face held a horrified expression.

“P-please, delete that! Please, I’ll do it but please just- just delete the video please!”

“No, not until that assignment is handed in and I have to get 100% on it. If it isn’t handed in or I don’t receive 100%, this will be leaked to everyone in a matter of minutes. I’ll post this shit everywhere with your full name on it, got it?”

You felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. This felt worse than a nightmare. This felt worse than dying even. “Okay, I’ll try my best but I don’t know if I can get-”

“If you don’t get 100 on this assignment, I’m leaking it. I don’t give a shit. I already showed Suguru— sick bastard got off to it, and I’m sure many more will too if you don’t score 100.”

He picks up his backpack and leaves while you stood in distraught. The following night, after work, you immediately started on his assignment. You saw the assignment date and it was assigned 3 weeks ago. He wants you to do 3 weeks of work in 15 hours.

Somehow, you pulled through the night. Researching the best you can on the internet and trying to make it as best as you possibly could. You were able to send him the file at 11:30am so he could skim through it and hand it in.

You ended up leaving early for the day so you could go home and get some sleep. When you woke up the next morning, your nearly dead phone kept ringing over and over.

You pick it up and see hundreds of notifications on various social media’s and a few iMessages

Your thumb clicked on one of the iMessage notifications and there was Satoru’s name with the following message:

“I told you, only 100%”

Below the message was an image of his mark

A 98%

You swipe off of iMessage and open Instagram and boom

Hundreds of new follower requests, numerous dms and clicking of Gojo Satoru’s story, was the video of him blowing your back.

You checked Snapchat and there it was on his story too. You wanted to die. You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself alive than live another day in this situation.

Later that day, you had received an email from the dean’s office regarding a “very sensitive and confidential” meeting that would be taking place tomorrow.

You had an idea of what it might be about but hope and prayed to god that it wasn’t what you were thinking.

But to your luck, this meeting was regarding your sex tape and how there is no longer a spot for you on the dean’s list or team.

Your whole world was crumbling apart. You spent your whole life to get to where you are today, only for him to ruin it in a matter of 12 hours.

You left the building slowly, still deeply thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this. How stupid you are to go to that party and slap the Gojo Satoru.

“Why is this happening to me?”

All of a sudden, everything goes black.

You wake up in a hospital. Your head felt heavy and your arms was twitching. You look around and see… no one. The nurse catches a glimpse of your eyes and quickly walks in to check on you.

She explains that you were in an accident and that they tried to get in contact with an emergency contact but you hadn’t stated anyone. You stayed at the hospital overnight so they can monitor your brain activity and fortunately they were able to discharge you the next morning.

You took the rest of the week off from school and Gojo Satoru was losing his mind. He had spammed called you from various numbers but you weren’t answering your phone at all. He went from his usual mean insults to angry insults to pleading for a response back.

He doesn’t see you until Monday, with a bandage around your head and your arm in a cast which is also in a sling. He nearly runs to you, wanting nothing but to embrace you.

And he does. Holds onto you tightly, inhaling your shampoo until you knee his in the balls.

He immediately drops down and you completely lose your cool. “Don’t fucking touch me! I hate you! You ruined my life! You’re not allowed to touch me after you forced me to have sex with you and shared the video with the entire campus! You got what you wanted Satoru! You stole everything from me! Broke my entire world, burned my hard work down! Made me feel worthless! And now you want to act all concerned?! I hope you rot in hell!”

You ended up going home for the day, otherwise another headache would’ve set in. You took a quick lap before getting up and getting ready for work because those hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

You had the closing shift and although working with one hand was quite the challenge, you desperately needed the money.

After closing up, the walk to your apartment is about 10 minutes away. Everything was going fine until a car quickly pulled up next to you, two men sprung out and shoved you into the car before you even had the chance to react.

One of them had his hand over your mouth while the other held your legs together.

You were blindfolded and tied in the car and after a while the car came to a stop and you were carried out.

You were thrown on the floor and when the blindfold was removed, you were met with his eyes again.

You immediately started crying. You were afraid and quite frankly exhausted of everything that’s happened over the last week.

“Please. I’m sorry. Just let me go. I’ll never ever bother you again. I’m sorry.”

You plead and beg but you hear his belt unbuckling. “Please! Please, I beg you Satoru! I’m sorry! I can’t- I can’t do it again please!”

You were left unheard. He threw you on the bed and tied your limbs to the bed. One of your arms was already in extreme pain and the other arm was starting to hurt too because of how tightly he tied you.

Every ounce of hope drained from your body when you felt his cock push into you. He pushed your head into the mattress and fucked you hard, like there was no tomorrow. Your tears soaked the mattress. Sweat, tears and snot covering your puffing face.

Satoru went on for hours. Abs glistening in sweat, his arm veins popping out because of how hard he was holding you. Not to mention his cock was coated with loads of cum.

You were passed out by the time he finished with you. Your body shaking on its on, cum dripping out your cunt and marks/bruises left all over your soft skin.

Hopefully his bunny learned her lesson.

[webbluvrsugar]

Lie To Girls — Spencer Reid x exbau!reader

slightly based on the song sharpest tool by Sabrina Carpenter but it’s more like the song would fit them right (love me some angst, had to do it.)

cw: angst with fluff at the end, no use of y/n, passes a little bit after JJ confessed her feelings for Spencer. - this isn’t a jj slander, only serves for context.

Spencer sweared to you he was over JJ. The blonde had just confessed her feelings for him in a case, and really, you guys used to be fine, at least until he found out his crush of years actually liked him all this time that passed, that he could’ve had a chance all this time if there was no miss communication between them. God, he didn’t even want to tell you, not that he was afraid with the way you’d react but that he knew it was… wrong, in some way, it was. You took it pretty well, but then he confessed he’d been thinking about it more than usual and that just wouldn’t cut it. Which led to the both of you arguing in the living room of his apartment.

“I — I don’t know what you want!” You shout, a mess of tears, he’s been trying to explain that he didn’t really mean anything he said previously. “Sure, you had a chance, but am I not enough?”

It breaks Spencer’s heart to see you like this — so emotionally distressed because of something he said, something stupid and reckless, and it doesn’t seem like it will get better soon.

“No, I’ve.. I’ve never said that, you’re more than enough to me, I just thought—“ he tries to speak, but he’s cut off by you.

“Thought what?” You take a step closer, you’re so sad that he wishes you hadn’t done that. “She’s married! Jesus — she has kids!” You sniff, his head clenches.

“I know.” He admits, ashamed, head hung low.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but there’s no way of fixing it!” Your words are bitter, and they hurt, but he understands why you’re acting like this, he won’t blame you.

He doesn’t respond to that, you can see the look in his eyes, as if he’s heartbroken, and really you don’t know if it’s because of you or Jennifer, it’s hard to tell, and maybe that is exactly why you hurt him even more with your next words.

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

You take another step closer, Spencer gulps, and when he stays silent, you start crying incessantly, hands up to your face as if you’re ashamed of him seeing you like that — you shouldn’t be, he realises how much he really messed up. He’s hurt, confused, but he didn’t realise how this would affect you, and if anything, you’re both to blame.

Spencer’s a nice guy in your eyes, the perfect boyfriend even through his flaws, you don’t know if it’s because of his personality or really because you’re just madly in love with him, but even now, you can’t see malice in the way he acts. He would never need to lie to you the way he did when he said ‘I don’t love her anymore.’, he would always be a saint to you.

He approaches you finally, pulls you into a tight hug at his chest, places a kiss on top of your head and grips you like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold you.

“I’m sorry, okay, I just made a mistake,” he whispers, resting his chin over your hair. “I don’t need anyone else.” He breathes.

“Was just a stupid mistake.”

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝒐𝒏𝒆

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the clear quartz, pile two is the tiger's eye, and so on and so forth.

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don't be afraid to say if the message resonated or not; it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it's "bad".

good luck to you, reader 🔮

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Signs:

heavily craving or avoiding physical touch, prominent first house or major first house transits right now, 9/99/999, heavy fire sign placements or embodying fire sign energy recently (or needing to), archangel gabriel, heavy sagittarius and/or cancer energy, mercury, uranus

Shufflemancy: 

“Confessions” by Usher

“Lost Without U” by Robin Thicke

“Insecure” by Amare La Negra

“ICONIC” by Aespa

“3RACHA” by Stray Kids

Cards:

Ace of Cups, Page of Wands (Rx), Knight of Swords (Rx), Broom, Knight of Pentacles (Rx), Queen of Pentacles, Justice, The Hermit, The Star, The Magician

Reading: 

It feels like there’s two camps of people for this pile: those with project ideas in mind for work or for their own personal lives and those interested in a potential crush or relationship. I’ll try to give examples for both and keep things semi-neutral, but sometimes things aren’t always that clean, so apply to your situation as needed. 

You may feel excited about this new project or relationship. You’re excited about potential prospects and have all these ideas running in your mind about how to go about things or how things will turn out, but this excitement is actually proving to be unhelpful or detrimental in a sense. Excitement with the right work ethic and listening ears can be a blessing, but without direction and input from others can cause you flail. It seems you could be rushing into things and trying to make pieces fit where they don’t so to speak. You could be thinking your plan is perfect and if everything just went the way you wanted, then all would be great, but this isn’t true. You need to get rid of this idea of you being this know-it-all who knows exactly what’s happening right now. 

For those of you who are used to always pursuing and making things happen; you need to step back and allow the universe to play out its wants. You could be the type of person who thinks they have to sacrifice everything in order to be happy or live comfortably, and the truth is that is not the case. You can have a balance between your work life and romantic or personal one; it’s okay to love working and coming up with all these ideas, but you also need to learn how to get comfortable with being with others and yourself outside of that professional, work-minded setting. 

For those of you who sit in the background and are a little more lazy, the opposite is true in that you need to step into taking control of your own life instead of leaving decisions and everything else up to the universe or other people around you. you could be too hedonistic and concerned about personal connections to the point where you put your livelihood and financial security at risk. In both instances, a need to balance is present. Also for both instances, there’s an emphasis on spending a little bit of time with yourself to determine in which way you need to expand and in which way you need to pull back from some of your habits. 

This pursuit versus lackadaisical attitude can also be applied to pursuing relationships. Some of you are constantly on the look for this person you’re interested in, or you’re always thinking of how you want to be in a relationship or how you can get into one when you need to step back and let it come to you when you need it. Others of you are acting as if you’re completely out of the game and are putting in no effort to create and maintain relationships when the reality is humans are interactive creatures, and you too need interaction! Again, a balance is needed for those this aligns with. 

Ultimately, you can have whatever it is you want: the lead on the project, the relationship, the good work ethic, the hedonistic lifestyle, but you also need to balance that with what it is you’re avoiding. The perfect recipe or spell concoction isn’t made with too much of any one ingredient. Everything has to work together in order for so-called perfection to be derived.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Signs:

lack of sight, “going in blind”, prominent twelfth house placements or transits, heavy pisces placements or energy, 1212, venus, 3/33/333, “i’m walking on sunshine”; “i’m trying to ascend”; “i’m crucified like my savior; saint-like behavior”

Shufflemancy: 

“in my head” by Ariana Grande

“Cry Baby” by Megan Thee Stallion (feat. DaBaby)

“Say My Name (Live)” by Beyoncè

“Emotional Bruises” by Madison Beer

“Streets Is Callin’” by B2K

Cards:

Page of Wands (Rx), Page of Pentacles, The Chariot, Ace of Swords, Seven of Cups, The Patient Witch, Three of Cups, Three of Pentacles, Good Luck Charm

Reading: 

Those choosing pile two might be in an intermittent state currently. Previously, you could’ve felt like you were on top of the world with everything set in stone, but now you’ve lost your footing, and you can’t necessarily figure out why. You might’ve started a project or new endeavor, and now you’re running into unexpected troubles which are making you want to give up. 

You might be someone who is obsessive about the things they want; you need everything to turn out exactly how you pictured it - to the point of refusing to be happy with anything less or slightly different even if the bulk of what you want is given to you. When you do encounter differences (or what you’d consider roadblocks), you have a habit of abandoning things or believing you must’ve messed up in some way – even when that’s not the case! You get so focused on “fixing” things that you forget to be appreciative of what you do accomplish. 

It seems you recognize you’re on some sort of journey, and you’re excited to do so much; you have so many ideas you want to pursue that sometimes you confuse yourself about what to do. In some ways, an abundance of choices is confusing you. You could inherently know that you likely can’t pursue everything (or that you shouldn’t), but your curiosity is getting the best of you. For some of you, I feel like some of these illusionary good choices have already come forward, and you’ve figured out the hard way that not every choice available to you is a good one. 

Those of pile two are being called to do a few things. One is to be patient and listen to yourself. Again, you can have all these ideas about what you want to do, but you need to figure out a way to “be still” and concentrate your energy on what’s best for you. You don’t have to be making moves or plans all the time; I know being told to meditate can feel frustrating, but the truth is that it’s hard to make good decisions without fully thinking them through. This act of listening to your inner self does not have to be done completely alone though (although parts of it should be). Don’t be afraid to ask friends, your guides, or other people around you for advice or help. Talk through your ideas, work with others to achieve them – you might see more success creating a community as opposed to acting totally alone. 

Overall pile two, things will work out for you depending on how you act and whether or not you listen. If you keep pursuing things faster than you’re ready to, then you can expect rude awakenings about needing to slow down and think before acting. If you take the time to get in tune with yourself and determine what it is you truly should be going after, then you can expect better outcomes and results.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Signs:

9/99/999, feeling sick recently, not trusting yourself, “don’t trust yourself”, uranus prominence, the color red, lack of fight, dogma, fire dominance or being drawn to fire, 3/33/333, swords, prominent air energy or dominance, 6/66

Shufflemancy: 

“Right Here” by Alex Aiono

“Princess Going Digital” by Amaarae

“King’s Dead” by Kendrick Lamar (feat. Jay Rock, Future, & James Blake)

“Muwop” by Latto (feat. Gucci Mane)

“Die A Little Bit” by Tinashe (feat. Ms Banks)

Cards:

Six of Swords, Six of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Nine of Swords, Five of Swords, The World, Nine of Wands, Temperance, The Tower, Ten of Cups (Rx), Ace of Swords

Reading: 

I think this pile is mainly for those thinking about or experiencing a romantic situation – not everyone will be, so don’t be alarmed because the overall message will be able to be applied regardless of whether romance is in your life right now or not. Those who chose this pile may be the type to close themselves off from others; in a lot of ways you’re hiding your light and existence from people who would appreciate and celebrate you. You could be someone who has social anxiety or worries often about the way people perceive you; you might find it hard to make friends or to establish relationships (romantic, platonic, maybe even familial) where you feel comfortable revealing your authentic self to others. 

You’re being called to leave this unsure part of yourself behind. You could be insecure when it comes to interacting with others – maybe you have a stutter or there’s some other factor that impacts your speech or how comfortable you feel when talking to people. For some of you, you may not understand what makes you special or what would draw people to you as a person, but Six of Wands in the deck I have says, “you’re kind of a big deal, so start acting like it!”. Even if you can’t see your own beauty, draw, or light other people can and want to connect with you because of it and because of who you portray yourself to be. 

Going back to relationships and trying to make connections with others, you may be someone who always thinks the worst of people. You may often think, “no one will like me”; “I won’t be able to make friends here”; “I’m not interesting enough”; “all my relationships go to shit in some way, so why try”, and the advice to you is “you can’t be right all of the time”. The worst possible outcome is not the only outcome. There’s almost a guarantee that if you get out of your comfort zone and be intentional in establishing relationships with people, then you may find the outcomes you fear so much won’t happen. “You have to give people the chance to show you they’re not like the people who have been in your life previously”. 

There’s an emphasis on the fact that you’re still standing even though you may have experienced times when you didn’t think you would keep going. The only/main thing holding you back right now is not your guides or the universe or the people around you or some outside evil force that you think only has it out for you – you are imposing limitations on yourself because of your fear of being hurt again. Although you’re being urged to try and pursue relationships out of your own volition; it’s important to note that some people are coming forward regardless. You must get rid of this idea that you’re unlikeable or unlovable, and you’ll likely have a Tower moment regarding your idea of and the way you act in relationships soon.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Signs:

the color purple, feeling restless or tired, sun dominance or needing to go out in the sun, prominent capricorn, libra, and/or gemini placements, red orange/blood orange, second house placements or transits, “trust yourself”, artemis, poseidon, water dominance or working with water, hades

Shufflemancy: 

“libidO” by OnlyOneOf

“Focus” by H.E.R

“Victory” by Yolanda Adams 

“UGOMDN” by chlothegod

“Star Lost” by Stray Kids

Cards:

Page of Pentacles (Rx), Seven of Cups, The Patient Witch (Rx), Queen of Swords, Page of Cups, Five of Wands, Ten of Wands (Rx), The Lovers (Rx), Ace of Pentacles, Eight of Cups. Judgment

Reading: 

The message for those of you who chose pile four is going to be a little harsh – just as a disclaimer. Your guides may be at their wits end in trying to tell you nicely or in trying to contact you in general, so this could be a message you’ve been ignoring or not understanding for a while. This could be a lesson you keep running into; I heard “you’re tired? We’re tired too”, so take that as it resonates. This pile also feels adjacent to pile two because some of the same cards came out, but I think this pile is for those of you who have little time to make your decision to change your ways because you’ve already been warned multiple times. 

At your core, you embody the Queen of Swords; you may be quick-witted, steadfast in your knowledge of who you are and what you want, outspoken, and independent to a fault, but currently these attributes are manifesting in the most negative ways. Currently, you could be acting childish and “rotten”; I’m reminded of Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. You’re so stuck in this idea of how you want things to play out and what you want that you’ve backed yourself into a situation where you come off as immature and lazy if things don’t go your way. What seems to be coming through is “oh, you’re stubborn? We can be stubborn too”. 

Your guides are wanting you to loosen up and be open to experiencing what’s thrown to and/or given to you. You have the ultimate control over your life, but I’m seeing some of you specifically asked for your guides’ help and aid, so if you want it, then you have to listen to their suggestions also. Your work with them is not a one-way affair, so stop treating it as such. They are not magic genies who are to drop everything and give you everything you want at your beck and call. I heard “cruisin’ for a bruisin’” which could be related to your need to control things. 

The advice of this reading is really to be mindful of how you're treating your guides and your intentions in your journey with them. For one, you’re shouldering too much responsibility to the point where you’re burning yourself out. It is not possible to go through life all by yourself with no help or input from anyone else. It’s also not possible to have a relationship with your guides and never listen to them or treat them like they’re your servants. If you keep running into obstacles and misfortunes going on your own, then maybe try their way for a while and see how it works for you. 

Overall pile four, your guides want to work with you. They want to provide you with abundance and see you prosper and above all happy, but if you refuse to listen, then you will keep stumbling.

[bloatedandalone04]

The Only Reason

➪the one where leon finally gives you some much needed closure after four months of feeling nothing but regret from what he did.

Warnings: angst, fluff, making out, swearing, mentions of cheating, cheating, toxic relationships, mentions of a bad past, mentions of weight loss, all the ada slander in the world because i actually cannot stand her, mentions of unwanted sexual attention (from ada to leon), unwanted intimacy (from ada to leon), eating disorders (implied)

Word Count: 5.2k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The loud music and thumping of the walls were the last thing on Leon’s mind as he scanned every single room of the house. Chris decided to throw a housewarming party for Claire at her new place, and of course Leon was invited. 

Leon refused the initial invitation, but quickly changed his mind when Chris told him that you would be there. It seemed as though the brunet had long since grown sick of his friend’s moping and knew he had to do something about it. 

Pretty much everyone that Leon knew was here, yet he couldn’t seem to find you. The house wasn’t big, and it didn’t have very many rooms, but it seemed like it was still impossible to locate you. Not that he even had a right to. 

If he does manage to find you, what would he even say? “I’m sorry for everything, and for letting you leave without trying to fight for you. Also, I don’t blame you for ignoring my calls and not texting me back, I deserve that.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he sounded that desperate. Back when he was a dumb twenty one year old, he supposed. 

Leon has been here for over an hour now, and he still hasn’t seen you once. He was beginning to think that Chris lied to him just to get him out of the house he used to share with you. While he wouldn’t put it past him, Leon wanted to give Chris the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had good intentions when he invited him to this thing. 

Nearly giving up on his search, Leon heads back to the kitchen, where Jill hands him a bottle of beer. She leans against the counter and he does the same, his eyes still expertly scanning the room, just in case.  “Hey, Kennedy,” she greets as she sips on her own beer. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy with work?”

Leon shrugs, his face almost emotionless. “Yeah,” he lied. Of course he had been going to work and successfully completing missions, but he hadn’t left the house outside of that. Work usually took up a good portion of his time, and the rest of it was spent thinking about how badly he fucked things up with you. 

It wasn’t even worth it. Ada. 

He hadn’t seen her since he broke off their little agreement a month before he confessed to you, despite her texting him and asking to meet up so he can fuck her in exchange for information he thought was worth more than you. 

It really wasn’t. 

He’s been ignoring her texts for months now, just like how you’ve been ignoring his. 

Leon had never blocked someone’s number ever in his life, but Ada was about to be the first if she didn’t take the hint and leave him the fuck alone. 

As much as he wanted to put all the blame on her, he knew it was half his own fault, as well. He couldn’t believe he had gone back to Ada Wong when he had you, his entire world, waiting for him at home. 

He knew he would never forgive himself, even if you somehow managed to move on and forgive him for the worst mistake he had ever made in his twenty nine years of living. 

Four months. 

It’s been four months and he was still beating himself up for what he did to you. 

“Yeah, Chris and I are looking into this new virus that is spreading down in Oxford. The cases have been going up daily, might be something you can help out with,” she offered, leaning closer to him so he could hear her better over the loud music. “You’re more experienced with viruses than anyone else I know.”

Leon gave her a tight lipped smile. “Sure, Jill,” he replied. “Whatever you need.”

“Great,” she says as she finishes off her beer. “You staying long? I never took you as the party type.”

He really wasn’t. He hadn’t been to a party since he was nineteen. Even the frat parties he was invited to were boring, so he never had the urge to go to anymore after the age of twenty. Until now, because he was told that you would be here. 

And he wanted to see you so badly. 

“I’m not, really,” he agreed and brought the bottle up to his mouth. “I just thought someone I know would be here-”

He wasn’t able to take a sip of the alcohol before his eyes landed on you as soon as you entered the room. 

All words had died on his tongue and the bottle was raised half way before his hand froze. 

You looked beautiful. Your cute white dress fit you well and showed off the concerning amount of weight you had lost. He hadn’t seen you that small since the beginning of your relationship, back when you didn’t know how to take care of yourself and listen to your body’s warnings. 

Leon felt his heart constrict at the thought of you going back to your old ways of ignoring the signs your body tried giving you. You were barely getting by when he met you, and you hadn’t gone completely back to that since leaving him, if your makeup and pretty hair were anything to go by. 

You hadn’t given up on yourself entirely, and that gave him enough hope that you would be okay. Even if he was given the chance to talk to you and explain things, he knew you weren’t completely broken like you were when you first started dating, and that you would be fine if you decided to never forgive him. 

Looking as shy as ever, you inch further into the room, seeming to have not noticed Leon yet as you ventured over to the bottles of booze that had been set out on the counter. “Oh, shit, is that Y/n?” Jill asked as she squinted in your direction. “I didn’t know she was coming, but that pretty much explains why you’re here. Are you okay?” 

Leon watched as you browsed through the drink options, dropping his arm back to his side and not caring about the beer that splashed onto his hand at the quick movement. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he slowly shook his head, a quiet “No,” leaving his mouth afterwards. 

Jill looked between the two of you, unsure of what to say. “Do you want to move to another room?”

Leon shook his head again. “No. You said it yourself, Jill. This is why I’m here,” he muttered and watched as a younger guy moved to stand next to you. He helped you pour a large amount of vodka mixed with ginger ale into a cup, and he quickly recognized the guy as one of the new agents Claire had befriended named Kegan. 

Kegan stepped closer to you and Leon could instantly tell that you were uncomfortable. He knew you like the back of his hand and could tell when you got nervous or anxious, like how you are right now. 

Leon stood up straight and placed the untouched bottle of beer behind him on the counter before making his way across the kitchen. 

Within four strides he is behind you and towering over Kegan, who noticed Leon long before you did. “Kennedy? Leon Kennedy is actually at a party? Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” 

Leon glared at him and it was then when you realized who was standing behind you. “You don’t know me,” Leon stated as you turned to face him, but he just kept his eyes on Kegan. Leon had quite the reputation at work, and he was well known as the guy who is more than capable of completing any mission, no matter how tough it may be. 

That being said, his superiority often annoyed the new guys as they tried to live up to the high expectations and standards of Leon Kennedy. 

“And you don’t know her, but I do, and I know she wants you to leave her alone but is far too nice to actually say that to you, so I’ll do it for her,” Leon continued and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet gasp that left your lips. 

Kegan looked between you and Leon, and more specifically the protective look in his eyes, before backing away with his hands up. “My bad, man,” he shrugged. “Didn’t realize she was with you.”

He disappeared in the crowd as you turned completely to face your ex. “You didn’t need to do that,” you muttered and Leon could feel his face heat up at the fact that you were actually talking to him. You wore an annoyed look, but still, you’re talking to him. “I could’ve done that myself.”

Leon forced a grin to form on his lips. “But I bet you’re glad I did it, instead,” when you just shook your head and began to leave the kitchen, Leon stepped in front of you, refraining from grabbing your hand like he so desperately wanted to. “Wait, please.”

“What, Leon?” You asked and you sounded so exhausted, it made his heart physically break a bit. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now?”

“Everything,” he answered instantly. “I want to say everything I didn’t say the day you left. Please, give me a chance.”

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. “It’s been months, Leon,” 

“Four,” he confirmed, watching the brief shock that flashed across your face. “And I’ve thought about you everyday for every one.”  

You give him a conflicted look that is quickly followed by a sigh. “There is nothing you can say that will fix what happened, just so you know,” 

Leon nodded and held his hand out to you, surprise filling him when you actually took it. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t your fault, and that it’s all on me,” he promised as he led you towards the front door, missing Chris’ look of relief as he passed him.

While he didn’t know the full story of what his friend did to you, he knew Ada had been involved in the reason you were no longer together. Chris was never a fan of Ada and how she treated Leon whenever the two crossed paths, and he was sure the blond felt the same way after being her little pet for years. He was sure the two of you would end up getting married, so he could not fathom how the fuck Leon had let Ada get in the way of what you and he had. 

All in all, he was sick of Leon’s bad moods, and wanted his friend to go back to normal. Well, as normal as Leon Kennedy could be. 

Leon led you out onto the front porch, and with one look from him, the two guys who were standing out there quickly scampered back into the house. Once you were alone, he turned back to face you with guilty eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say to you. 

He had wanted the chance to talk to you again for months, and now that you are actually here in front of him he was blanking. 

But he wouldn’t let his inability to form a proper sentence be what cost him his once chance at explaining to you why he did what he did.

An apology would be a good place to start, right?

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he finally allowed himself to look into your guarded eyes. You looked at him as if he were a stranger, and he supposed he kind of is now. The person you both thought he was would’ve never done what he did to you, no matter how important those fucking files were. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

You nod and lean back against the railing, crossing your arms as you stare at him with a soft glare. “I’m really glad we agree on that,”

He knew he deserved that. He deserved worse, actually, but you were simply too kind to completely go off on him, and he simply never deserved you in the first place. “That’s fair, you’re being hostile,” he mumbled and felt his skin begin to heat up under his dark leather jacket. “I know I have no right to even be talking to you right now, but I just need you to know that what I did with Ada was the worst thing I have ever done, and I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life. None of them cost me you, though, so they’re not very high on that list.” 

You tense up at the name you’ve hated since the second you heard it, and the mention of her sent your insecurities right back to the front of your mind. “Yeah, well,” you trail off, kicking a stone that was on the porch away from you as you avoid his stare. “I hope she was worth it, because I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the fact that Ada fucking Wong is the reason the best relationship I had ever been in ended.”

“She wasn’t worth it,” he said instantly, taking a cautious step towards you. “She was never worth it, even back when I was a stupid twenty one year old and trying to start my career. She never cared, and I wasn’t smart enough to see that. I’m not smart at all. If I had half a brain I would’ve never gone back to her ever again.” 

You shake your head. “You can say that now, but it doesn’t change anything,” you mumbled. “You cheated on me with the one person I’ve been worried about since day one. You promised me that she was in your past, and that you were over her. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that. Guess we’re both fucking dumb.”

“No,” he said sternly. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Ada hasn’t had control over my heart for a long time now, it’s always been you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met, and that was years ago. I know I fucked up, but I’ve never stopped believing that you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else, and that was clear after I met you.”

Your lip was quivering just slightly and you blinked back tears, trying to stick to your promise of never crying over the man in front of you ever again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep that promise if you were to continue to talk to him. “Then why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had?” You regretfully ask and quickly add, “And I want the truth, not some bullshit story you always seem to come up with. Be honest with me, Leon.”

Leon really felt pathetic at this point as he felt his heart jump a bit at the fact that you said his name. He missed you so much, he missed hearing your voice, and he missed the way his name sounded when it came out of your mouth. 

He knew his answer wouldn’t satisfy you at all, but he said it anyway, “It was just about work,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say angrily, wiping under your eyes before he could see your tears. “Don’t waste anymore of my time, Leon. I refuse to spend another second with you if you’re just going to lie to me. You’ve done that enough.”

Leon shut up after that, shifting from one foot to the other and beginning to feel anxious. He shouldn’t feel this way around you. He had known you for four years and been with you for three, he should feel comfortable around you, but he supposed he lost that right, too. 

At his lack of words, you turn away and are about to head back inside when he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the door. “Y/n, wait,” he begs, blue eyes clouding over with desperation as he stares hopelessly down at you. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There are no words that could ever describe it. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that I fucked up the best thing I had going for me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You fell silent as your eyes flickered from his lips then back to his eyes. 

What if….for just one more night…what if.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that day without explaining to you that it was all my fault, just like how I should’ve never let Ada come anywhere near me. But I’m weak,” he was saying all the words he should have said to you the day he confessed that he had been seeing Ada. God, even her name made a feeling of disgust creep into his bones. “I’ve always been weak when it comes to you and my job and everything. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, but you made me feel like I was. I can’t believe I took that for granted.” 

Your eyes burned once again and you moved to lean back against the railing when he inched closer.

“You’re everything to me, sweetheart,” he sounded so genuine, you almost thought you could believe him. He placed his hands on the railing behind you and leaned down so his face was close to yours. “You always will be. She is, by far, the biggest mistake of my life and I promise that I haven’t seen her since. I can’t stand even thinking about her-”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

Just one more night. 

You just needed one more night with him, one where you could pretend you were still happy and still in love. One where you were still oblivious to the affair he was having with his ex…or whatever the fuck they were. 

Just one more night to fuck him out of your system, then you’ll never have to see him again after this. 

Leon got lost in the feeling of having your lips on his for the first time in months. His hands immediately grip your waist and his body presses right up against your own. 

He missed you more than anything else in the entire world. Every single inch of you, he craved it everyday. He was so fucking angry with himself for how he destroyed your relationship and for how he hurt you after he swore he wouldn’t. After he swore he was different. 

Really, he wasn’t far off from the assholes you had given your heart to in the past, even though he tried so hard to be. 

His fingers bunch up the fabric of your dress and he wanted to take you right there, right against the railing of his friend’s new porch, but you deserved more than that. He wanted to give you more than that. 

Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair and he never thought he’d ever get to feel your soft yet firm touch again. He couldn’t help but melt into it. 

Your lower back pressed against the cool metal and the contrast of it had you gasping against his mouth. 

Leon groaned at your quiet sound of pleasure and couldn’t deny how it went straight to his dick. Sometimes he really hated being a man who had no control over that part of his body. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Missed everything about you, pretty girl.” 

You moan into his mouth and he swallows it like the greedy man he is. “Take me home, Leon,”

It was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled away but kept his hands on your hips. Now that he had gotten a taste of you again, he never wanted to let you go. But he needed to focus on why he sought you out tonight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off, noting the brief look of embarrassment that flashed in your eyes. “I don’t want you to think that this is all I wanted out of-”

“I want it, Leon,” you cut him off, pulling him closer by his jacket. “I want you. I know you don’t want me anymore, but-”

He shook his head and pressed another kiss to your lips, against his better judgment. “I do still want you, baby,” he promised. “I want you, always.”

You bite down on your lip and don’t miss the way his eyes flicker downwards when you do so. “Then take me home,” you pressed, watching as he seems to have an inner battle with himself. 

You weren’t sure what result you wanted out of this; him agreeing and getting you off one last time, or him rejecting you of what he so gladly took from Ada. 

 Either way would provide you with some closure, you’d hope. 

A few more seconds pass before he’s moving away and taking your hand. He leads you to his car and drives the familiar road to the house you lived in with him not too long ago. 

As he guided you through the very door you walked out of the day he told you what he did, he gave you a conflicted look as he said, “Just so you know, this isn’t all I want from you. I meant everything I said before,”

You give him a blank look as you move closer to him. “I don’t care,” 

Leon looked like he was in agony as you grabbed his jacket and pulled it from his body. “Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please.”

You don’t say anything else as you pull on his hands and walk backwards until your knees hit the edge of the couch. Sitting on the armrest, you run your fingers down his toned chest and try to remember that this will be a one time thing. He wasn’t yours and this wouldn’t be like all the other times you and he had been intimate. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest. “So please, don’t say anything else.”

Leon could only nod, regret filling him at what he knew he made run through your head. You thought this was all he wanted, when in reality he just wanted you back. 

He leaned down and gently grabbed either side of your face as he kissed you deeply, pushing you back against the very couch you broke up with him on four fucking months ago. 

It was too much, but he couldn’t stop. He was too afraid you’d leave him forever if he did. He really was fucking weak when it came to you. He was selfish. 

He wanted you back so badly, his brain couldn’t keep up with his body. His lips were placing kisses desperately to your mouth as he felt your legs wrap around his waist. 

Leon wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to function again if you were to never talk to him after this. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

But it seemed as if you were doing the opposite. 

He kissed along your neck for a few seconds before hearing a sharp intake from you that was followed by the push of your hands against his shoulders. “Wait,” you nearly gasp, sitting up when he instantly pulls away from you, proving to you that he is at least a little better than your past boyfriends. They would have ignored you and continued touching you until they got what they wanted. 

Leon stood back and put a bit of distance between the two of you, his eyes guilty and his heart on his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says and you just shake your head, straightening your dress back out. 

“No, I initiated this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” you apologize and stand up. “I should go. This was a mistake.” 

Leon felt his heart break as you quickly stood up and made your way to the door. He got flashbacks to the day you left him, and he knew he wasn’t prepared to see you walk out that door for the second time. 

Maybe he didn’t have to.  

You passed by the counter and abruptly stopped, your eyes fixated on something on the granite. Leon held his breath as he watched you move towards the island, your hand reaching out to grab his keys. “Leon,” you gasped quietly, your fingers gently moving something on the chain. He knew what was on it. The ring haunted him every time he used his keys, and that was the exact reason why he attached it to the chain in the first place. 

He stayed still when you turned to look back at him, his keys held tightly in your hand.

“You kept it?” You asked in a hoarse voice. You would recognize that ring anywhere, even after only seeing it one time. You couldn’t believe he kept it instead of selling it, and you were heartbroken to discover that he saw it every day whenever he entered or left his house. 

Your question offended him, but he’d never show it. “Of course I kept it,” and yet another flashback flickered in his head. 

You weren’t sure you wanted the answer, but you asked, anyway, “Why?”

Leon hardly moved as he answered, “As a reminder,” 

And it was the truth. 

And then you broke your promise as the first of many tears began to fall. 

You wished you never met him. Never said yes when he asked you out on a date, said no when he asked you to move in. You wished you didn’t agree to come to that stupid housewarming party, because now you felt lost all over again. 

Setting the keys loudly on the counter, you turn to face him fully. “Why?” You asked, your voice angry and shaky as you tried to keep your cool. “Why did you do it? I loved you more than anything else. You saved my life, Leon. Why didn’t that mean anything to you?”

Leon felt his own eyes burn as he stepped away from the couch but made no move to walk over to you. “It means the world to me, Y/n,” he promised, his heart begging his body to take you into his arms, but he held back. “So do you.”

Your lower lip trembled as you moved to stand in front of him. “Why?” You ask again, much quieter this time around. You reach up and push on his chest just slightly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t faze him one bit. And it didn’t. “Why did you go to her?”

Leon refrained from taking your hands that were still on his chest in his. “Because she had something I needed,” he regretfully answered. 

Your brows furrow and he knew he accidentally offended you with his poor choice of words. “What, I wasn’t good enough? Didn’t put out enough for you?”

“No,” he said immediately, going against his better judgment again and wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “You’re more than enough for me. You always have been and you will be forever. The thought of doing that with her made me sick and I hate myself for it, but it was the only way she would give me the information I needed for my job.”

Your eyes softened a bit but your whole body was still guarded. “Your job you can’t tell me anything about?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, his face twisting up in agony when more tears fell from your eyes. “That’s the only reason I went to her. She had something I needed, but if I ever had to do it all over again, I’d tell her to fuck off and I’d get it some other way. I can’t stand the fact that I hurt you like that.”

You tried to process his words, but you didn’t know what to think anymore. 

You believed him, and it was clear he felt awful about all that came out of his encounters with Ada. But you also weren’t sure what he wanted out of this encounter with you. Yeah, it appeared he wanted to fix things, but who’s to say he won’t shatter your heart again? 

You couldn’t take much more. You knew that. 

“It was just for work?” You asked quietly, avoiding his eyes as he pressed your hand flat against his chest. “You’re not in love with her?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head to further get the point across. “No. I don’t love her, not anymore. Maybe I never did. She never made me feel the things you did and still do. My heart was never hers. It’s yours. Even after tonight, I’ll still be yours, even if you aren’t mine.”

Your eyes were begging for a break, but the tears kept coming. “My heart is yours, Leon. It’s yours to break,” you whisper. “And you did.”

He couldn’t stop himself from taking you into his arms. He wrapped you up and let out a sigh of relief when you let him, and even held onto his waist. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “So fucking sorry. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’d use my last breath for you, baby. You’re my entire world. You’re everything.”

“Leon,” you beg, bunching his shirt up in your fists. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t hurt me again, I-....I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, cradling the back of your head in his hand as if you were the most frail and fragile thing in the world. “I love you so much. It’s you who I want for the rest of my life. I never doubted that. I never want you to doubt that.”

You nod and press your head to his chest. “It’s going to take some time,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a lot of time-”

“I’ll wait forever for you,” he swore, leaning back and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was shaking now, disbelief filling his entire being at the fact that you were letting him hold you like this again. 

You look over at his keys before meeting his eyes again. “I won’t forget about what you did, Leon,” you murmur, watching the guilt seep back into his blue orbs. “But I’m willing to forgive….I just need time.”

Leon nodded, wrapping you back up in his arms. “I’ll give you all the time you need, I promise,” he rasps. “Just don’t leave me again.”

He had no right asking you that, but he also had no control over his words at this point. 

But you just pressed your lips to the side of his neck. “Don’t give me another reason to,”

[gi4hao]

☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!

☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor

9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.

“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”

he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.

“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.

putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.

with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”

the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.

“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.

you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”

a few seconds of silence follow your words.

when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”

suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.

“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”

this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”

with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.

your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.

“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.

at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”

“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”

with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.

you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”

his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.

“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.

“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”

with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.

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