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pedgito · 3 days

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𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

content warning | no outbreak!joel, f!reader that is mentioned to have hair that can be pushed back but no exact length, descriptions of outfits, lots of w*ed smoking/consuming ed*bles, a quick mention of a burn, joel being a good neighbor, he's still the biggest girl dad, age gap implied but readers isn't specified, joel's not afraid to go for what he wants, most of the interactions happen while they're high so please keep that in mind when reading, lotsa boob worship, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, mentions of joel being sterile, strangers to friends to lovers. this was written over the course of a weekend don't look at me

word count — 8k

The first and only time you see him is when you’re moving in next door, trudging in the moving boxes on your own as he seems to ready up his own truck full of boxes, followed by two younger women who seem to be bickering at him and he bypasses them with a smug smile on his face—he’s older, so you came to your own assumption that it was probably his daughters.

That’s all you know about him.

Outside of the fact he drives a truck, works long hours, and that his name is Joel.

The girl with the begrudging smile and worn out converse called his name while you were throwing away your trash and trying to not seem like the nosey neighbor.

He comes, he goes. The roar of his truck is all you hear and you never really see him outside of an occasional swish of his curtains through your own windows, but occasionally you leave your trash can out by the curb longer than necessary and it magically appears at the beginning of your driveway.

Now, you don’t want to point fingers—but the only ones tucked away are his and your own, leaving the other neighbors to fend for themselves.

It’s a simple gesture, kind.

You want to thank him but you never get the chance.

You’re curious if he’s a night owl—lights staying on even into the early hours of the morning, shadows crossing around his living room that you can see from your bedroom window, tossing and turning most nights as you struggle and struggle to fall asleep.

You’ve learned methods to help, plenty—if you ever remember to charge your vibrator it was usually your first choice, a quick release of some of the built up tension over the day and you could eventually find it easier to fall asleep. But, your tried and true method was weed.

That was it. Sometimes you didn’t even need much—an edible to curb the anxiety that filled you, a puff or two at the pen you had stashed away in your bedside drawer, but most of the time it was occupying your mind with the work of rolling the joint before smoking it out your bedroom window that helped the best.

However, tonight was different.

You toss and turn and fling the blankets away that stick to your skin, the broken ceiling fan doing nothing to quell that muggy heat that was permeating in your house from earlier in the day—it just sat frozen, menacing and taunting at you. You search through the drawer at your bedside for the small tin case covered in stickers of various interests and things you enjoyed, kicking the sliding backdoor with your foot as you traveled through the living room to your kitchen and stepping out onto your back deck.

It’s still hot, but the breeze allows a noticeable difference.

You work quietly, hunched slightly over the railing and using the faint glow of the light hanging beside your backdoor, just finishing up rolling the joint as you bring it to your tongue and the distinct creak from the house next to you grabs your attention—the sliding door mimicking your own.

Your heart races and you don’t know why. It could be one of the girls, still strangers but somehow you find it easier to look that way if it was them—Joel was intimidating, the aura he carried within just a few seconds of a glance.

It is him, unfortunately—and suddenly you feel the need to hide your stash, tossing the tin box in the cheap plastic chair you bought when you first moved in. Tucking yourself away as you light the joint and bring it to your lips.

He’s being surprisingly noisy, chair scuffing the deck as he moves it around and you look at him curiously from across the way, a fence and several feet of grass dividing you both. You can see the mug clutched in his right hand and his left hand filled with a few various things. A phone, for sure—lighting up in his hand before he lays it on the table beside him, lifting a leg over the lounge chair in a straddle-like motion before he sits down.

And he does seem like a smoker, not that you have proof or theory—it was just the vibe, but as he lights the item in his hand and takes a slow drag you quickly realize there's not an ounce of nicotine in sight. It’s clear when he catches your gaze and his brow furrows slightly, noting the similar item tucked between your own fingers and you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

You don’t say a word. Neither does he. But, he does offer a weak smile when you grab the tin box from the chair, nodding in acknowledgement. Your entire body flutters to life for some weird reason that you will absolutely blame on the THC obscuring rational thought.

Thankfully, sleep comes easy after that.

–

But, it doesn’t stay that way.

Most of the time you stay tucked inside, especially on the days and nights when the heat wasn’t as ablaze as usual, but there is usually a day or two out of the week where you find yourself outside—sometimes you lounge, or pace, but it never fails that the moment you step foot outside your backdoor, Joel does too.

Once a week, rarely twice—though it does happen, both of you find yourself in quiet submission as you smoke and enjoy the peace, even with the constant click of crickets and lighting bugs that seem attracted to both of your houses, flying around your backyard in a small swarm.

And you wanted to keep your distance, not wanting to impose on his space but your two months into these unspoken nightly meetings when your cheap lighter finally decides to shit itself, offering nothing but dull sparks against your overworked thumb, trying and failing to light the end of the joint.

Joel had been watching, an amused smile growing on his face as you cursed and tossed the lighter into your yard out of frustration—you’d grab it later, whatever. Eventually you sigh, giving up on it for the night and turning to pack away your stuff before Joel is calling over to you from his side of the fence, heart dropping into your stomach at the sound of his voice.

“I got a light,” He offers, “if you’re interested?”

It’s definitely a question. A proposition. An offering.

You scratch at your brow and hesitate for a millisecond, not giving yourself enough time to debate your answer before you’re mumbling “Fuck it,” and taking the path down the steps and to the gate that separated your yards, watching as he stepped toward you all in the same breath, feeling so much more intimidating this close—the smell of him, musky and sweet. His hair was wet, too.

He took a shower, got dressed, and immediately decided to step back out into the humid heat of Texas summer.

You pluck the lighter from his grip with a soft tug, flicking open the top. It was a good lighter, not the crappy three-pack you bought at the gas station down the road—it was chrome, engraved with a JM, and soft to the touch. You admire it for half a second before you attempt to light the end of your joint, still tucked between your lips.

But, as fate would have it, you make a fool of yourself. It wasn’t that you couldn’t get it lit, but that the wind was being your worst enemy in a situation where you just wanted to smoke the goddamn joint and go to bed.

Joel puffs at the joint between his lips and breathes out the smoke through his nose before he huffs out a low laugh and nods in your direction, reaching his arms over the fence and beckoning with his fingers for you to hand the lighter back over. You nearly go cross-eyed as his hands come toward your face—much larger than your own and far better at keeping the flame strong, he peeks around his cupped palm and waits for the end to turn a bright orange before he pulls away and you eagerly pull the smoke into your lungs.

“Thank you,” You tell him, rubbing your bare feet into the grass beneath you, patchy and poorly cut from your own mow job, but you were working the best with what you had—even if it was an ancient lawn mower you snagged at a garage sale that only worked half of the time.

You didn’t like to ask for help, hated it. But, here you were, taking help from a stranger.

Well, neighbor.

It didn’t feel fair to call him a stranger anymore, even if you’ve only spoken a little under ten words to him.

“No problem, sugar,” Joel responds and your cheeks burn with heat, that distinct nervousness spreading throughout your body that couldn’t be mistaken with anything else, “curious, though—you ain’t ever thought about investin' in a good lighter?”

You shrug, tapping away the ash gently with your fingertip and taking another puff, “Why? My neighbor’s got a perfectly good one himself?”

Joel raises his brows in unison and smiles slightly, he laughs. It’s more of a lazy chuckle.

“I… have more. I just lose them a lot. Besides, they’re only like ten bucks a pack.”

You’re waiting for him to cut the conversation short and walk back to his chair, but he finds himself leaning, arms tucked and crossed over the fence, oblivious to how daunting this felt to you—the man you’ve been so helplessly curious about for months suddenly standing in front of you and interested, unbothered…not at all what you expected from him.

“Thanks for constantly moving my trash bins,” You tell him randomly, blowing the smoke out through your lips as you tilt your chin up, “I always forget.”

Joel makes a face, wordlessly offering an “I know,” with his eyes and you roll yours in return, following it with a laugh as you pop a hip out slightly, leaning most of your weight onto one leg and crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly remembering how bare you were under your thin top, assuming you’ve probably already given him quite the show already.

Though, Joel seems like the type of man to be nice enough not to point it out.

You perk up suddenly, asking the first thing that comes to mind.

"Can I ask a question?"

Joel nods.

“What’s the JM stand for? On your lighter.”

“Sweetheart,” The laugh shakes his entire chest, “come on now.”

From sugar to sweetheart—you were clearly making quite the impression on him.

When you don’t respond he answers your question.

“Joel. Miller. I figured that was obvious,” He says, stubbing out the end of his joint into the wood on his side of the fence.

“Oh.”

“It’s on the mailbox.”

Curious, you leave him for a brief moment to slip through the side gate of your yard and….yeah, sure enough.

“I swear I’m not always like this,” You tell him as you make your way back over, forcing away the smile that was creeping its way onto your face.

“Too bad,” He responds, carding fingers through his still slightly damp hair before running his open palm over his beard, scratching at his chin, “s’pretty entertaining.”

“O-kay,” You answer, sarcasm smothering your tone, “I think it’s my bedtime, Joel Miller.”

“Goodnight then,” He bows his head slightly, “neighbor.”

The tone of it makes you snort with a soft laugh, flipping him off as you depart.

Suddenly, Joel Miller doesn’t seem all that scary.

–

The next week is suspiciously quiet, to your surprise. You’ve opted out of keeping yourself inside now that you had a friend to keep you company, but when he doesn’t show up after a few minutes, you can’t explain why you feel disappointed.

Next week is the same, his house suspiciously dark.

You can’t pass judgment—he could be busy, tired, or there could be no reason at all.

But, the need in you is there—for what, you’re not even sure.

By the third week you’re ready with a peace offering, a truce.

That night his lights are on and he’s even moving around, somewhere in his kitchen you’re assuming, but instead of sneaking out into the backyard you’re crossing over your front lawn and into his, seemingly fresh mowed and smelling of wet grass, having been under mostly rain showers all night and you knock at his door.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the door opens and you smile at the sight of him, sleep pants hanging low on his hips and his shirt slightly raised by his stomach. He looks exhausted, eyes puffy with sleep as he rubs at them with his knuckles, but he doesn’t look displeased at the sight of you—in fact, he almost smiles in response.

One rolled joint in your left hand, a second in your right. It’s a wordless gesture that makes Joel scoff in amusement and nod you inside of his home. His home. That you’ve never seen until now. You were in his house and it was the most casual thing in the world. You don’t linger for long, following him toward the sliding door to his backyard but the place feels…homey. Lived in. So much unlike your own and disorganized in a way that showed years of age and memories, pictures scattered along the walls and years of personal crafts that you couldn’t examine for as long as you wished.

“Sorry I disappeared,” He acknowledges the unasked question, even though it lingered on your tongue, “—got a huge job at work, getting the site ready has been a pain in my ass.”

You share the lounge chair, taking a seat against the part of the chair that was propped up while Joel opts for the end, giving you a comfortable amount of space to stretch out if you wanted but also, and maybe instinctively, trying not to pressure you into feeling like you had to share space with him.

“Can I ask?”

Like a goddamn broken record, Joel chuckles at that. Full and genuine as he lights the end of the joint and wordlessly helps you, the same cupping motion of his hands that you welcome this time, almost eagerly.

“Ya gotta stop askin’ that,” Joel says, “especially when you’re just gonna ask anyways.”

Well.

“I’m a carpenter. Long hours, got a bad sleep schedule ‘cause of it. Pays good, though.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Not interesting at all, I know.”

“No—no, I mean. I don’t know what I was expecting you to say. That sounds…fun?”

“If you think busted knuckles and an achy back is fun—but I’m old, can’t really escape that.”

You laugh under your breath and inhale the joint between your lips, blowing it out as you speak.

“You are not old, Joel. Come on.”

“I’ve got two fully grown daughters in college and a 401k callin’ my name in about a decade.”

“So, what? Fifty five? Fifty six? You can do better than that.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You shrug at him, a satisfied smirk stretching over your face.

It’s a back and forth game you play for a while—nights spent at his house where you bicker back and forth, offering snacks and occasionally getting the royal treatment of dinner or a late-night breakfast if Joel was feeling too antsy to sleep.

He never flirts, really. Despite how you don’t cover up around him for his own sake, always showing up in your sleep clothes that barely allowed for any modesty or the summer clothes that clung to your body and hugged your curves, allowing his eyes to trace and outline all over your figure as much as he wanted to—and sometimes he did, catching his gaze on you for a brief moment before it fades.

But, the first crack in his hard facade comes over a late night meal of pancakes and bacon, grabbing the blueberries from his fridge as he fries the meat on the stove, his elbow bumping the fridge door and knocking the small plastic box of blueberries out of your hand and to the floor, a surprised yelp coming from your throat as you scramble to catch them all.

“Shit, shit—I’m sorry, that was my fault.” You apologize, picking at the blueberries that didn’t make it, shoveling them into your hand and Joel leans down slowly, kneeling as he scoops the tainted blueberries into his own hand and dumps them in the trash.

“My bad, baby—that was on me,” It flows off his tongue with ease and if he realizes he’s said it, he doesn’t acknowledge it, “damn grease popped at me—go on, sit down. I’ll clean the rest up and we can use up what’s left.”

You both enjoy your meal without a blip, not daring to address the slip-up—he peppers you with sugars and sweethearts and the occasional honey when you get a little too combative over a topic, but never baby.

The second time is less surprising and more of a comfort, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Again, struggling with his lighter—this time your hand is holding one of those sparklers you haven’t touched since you were a child—leftovers from the bunch that Sarah and Ellie, his two daughters had brought home over the holiday. You never came over, despite his insisting invitation and running into his brother Tommy on the way home the night prior to the Fourth of July. He'd insisted too.

It just won’t light—and Joel had made the mistake of getting a few of them wet when he’d cleaned off his deck that night and suddenly you’re wondering it’s just a dud.

You hover the flame, mind drifting as you watch the flame grow and you don’t realize you’re burning yourself until Joel is pulling the items from your hands, dropping you back down into reality as you feel the sting, the sudden burn to your thumb as Joel says something that you don’t quite hear at first.

“Sweetheart, you gotta pay attention—“

You look up at him meekly and he pulls you inside with a nod of his, turning on the cold water and pulling your hand under the stream.

“Where’d you go?”

You raise your eyebrows in question, the lingering high drifting off from earlier in the night.

“Oh—just, kinda spaced out, I guess?”

Joel rubs his thumb over yours gingerly and turns off the water, grabbing you a clean washcloth stuffed with a couple pieces of ice to soothe the burn for the time being.

“Baby, you really gotta be more careful.”

Your head snaps over to him as he threw a damp paper towel into the trash and watches the sudden realization cross your face—looking for uneasiness, fear, worry; but in an instant, your body relaxes and you shake your head.

“I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You see the way his lips part slightly, almost as if he’s gearing to add a, “Me too,” for a different reason, but it never comes.

Near the end of summer, you find yourself there again.

But, things feel different.

“So, I’ve got a surprise.”

Joel leans up at your words, arm resting over his knees as you plop the bag down on the table beside the chair—Joel looks slightly worried, eyes flicking toward you and back at the bag.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never tried edibles.”

“It’s not really my thing, sugar—”

“Joel, you’ve been smoking longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Now, you know that don’t mean a damn thing.”

You shake your head in fake dismay, slipping your hand into the bag to grab a few pieces.

One for him…a couple for you.

“Aren’t those supposed to be pretty strong?”

You shrug, “I think it depends. Person to person. I’ve never tried these before, but I’ve never had a bad trip, so…”

Joel’s eyes linger, finger poking at the small, cube gummy in your hand like a child discovering a new toy.

“Hey, we’re doing this together,” You offer as a half-assed comfort, “so if it sucks, it’ll suck for both of us.”

Joel doesn’t seem to need much convincing, though. He plucks the gummy from your palm and places it on his tongue, watching as you do the same and you chew, settling back on your palms at the end of the chair, feet outstretched and crossed in front of you as you stare up at the sky.

It was a Waxing Gibbous moon, not quite full but nearly there—it hovered over Joel’s house, just enough light to illuminate the space between you two. And you wait in comfortable silence aside from the low hum of music playing inside Joel’s house, dark inside now that he had turned off all the lights as you had followed him outside.

He always spent more time out here with you than he intended nowadays.

By a half hour, you find the idle conversation quickly divulges into things more obscure, your gaze lingering on the sky longer than you realize and Joel speaks to you softly, your heart pounding slowly in your ears.

“It ain’t going nowhere.”

You turn to him slightly, blinking a few times before you realize what he’s referring to.

“Oh. Well, obviously. It’s just pretty. I could stare at it all night.”

“Can’t blame you,” Joel responds, but his eyes are nowhere near the sky.

Oblivious, your gaze lingers upwards still, leaning back so far on your hands you feel yourself slip and yelp, only caught by Joel’s hands nearly a second short of a serious head injury.

“Come here,” Joel beckons, fingers wrapping around your bicep as he pulls you forward until your back is against his chest and he allows you to lean into him, feeling him clear his throat behind you as he keeps his hands a respectable distance despite how easily he’d move you into this position to begin with.

Commendable? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely.

If you couldn’t feel the hard, solid line of his body at your backside it wouldn’t bother you so much. And the heat of his body, scolding to the touch like a furnace. He ran hot, that much you already knew just by a few faint touches before but this—it overwhelms your senses.

You try to distract yourself, noticing the carved out wooden statue of a cowboy riding a horse while it was rearing back, you squint your eyes before perking up with a sudden question.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?”

You giggle slightly, tapping at his arm to grab his attention before you point in the direction of the statue placed by the stairs, “That thing.”

“Oh, that—I…made it.” He looks away with a sudden embarrassment as you quickly twist your head up to look at him in complete and utter shock—he scrunches his face up and dares to take a peek at you from his peripheral and his face heats up when he sees you looking so rapt.

“Joel, that is insanely fucking good.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” You mock his tone, “how long did that take to make?”

Joel tries to think—it’s been years now. Sarah was barely out of grade school and he had just adopted Ellie, it was all a blur anymore with both of the girls in college now.

“A month, on and off between jobs. It’s just a piece of junk, really.”

“Joel, shut up.”

Joel can’t hold back the even bigger laugh that escapes him at your bluntness.

“It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you seem to be really fuckin’ good at.”

Joel shrugs and you decide to leave it be, relaxing back into his chest more comfortably, though his arm lingers more closely to your body, fingertips resting against your bicep that slowly start to move on their own, whether by Joel’s own conscious movements or just by nature of seeking touch. It’s a gentle trace, it tickles and you shrug your arm slightly to which he responds with a gentle squeeze.

By the hour mark you find that Joel hates when you ask about his statues or some of the homemade structures in his backyard—littered throughout along with an old playhouse that you can only assume belonged to his daughters, much outgrown and covered in vines and weeds, intertwined through cracks in the wood.

He hates it so much he actually tries to distract you with something else. Anything.

Unfortunately, nothing really works. So, he changes gears completely.

“What’s with the sundress tonight?” Joel asks suddenly, the playful lilt to his voice hidden behind a sudden need for authority over the situation. “Gettin’ all dolled up in the middle of the night.”

“It’s new,” You say with an eagerness, rubbing your finger over the silk fabric of the dress, “do you like it?”

“You really askin’ my opinion?”

Of course. I bought it for you.

“Do you have one?” You say instead.

“It’s nice,” He runs his pointer finger and thumb over the strap on your left shoulder that slips down, lingering against your skin as his palm covers the expanse of it.

His touch feels far away but so intense, head swirling with thoughts you can’t follow—there’s a primal need there, though. And you can’t tell if he feels it too. If it’s just the weed in your system or if it’s weeks and weeks of built up tension boiling over the edge.

This is the closest Joel has allowed you to be—he’s relaxed, his barriers are down and the hand lingering on your elbow is careful but explorative, his fingers trailing to the middle of your chest, flipping the small silver necklace around your neck under his fingertips, feeling so delicate. More importantly, he feels your heart, stretching the palm out wide and over your skin.

“Y‘alright?”

You nod and shuffle your feet, planting them on the end of the chair as you pull your knees up, the dress falling just at the apex of your thighs, barely allowing any modesty and if you spread your thighs even a half inch—

Joel breaks his eyes away, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest despite your rapidly beating heart.

“That heart of yours is racin’, sugar. Are you sure?”

Again, you nod. But, the subtle shift against him forces his fingers lower as you adjust yourself higher, ass pressed right against his groin and it does no favor for Joel, who’s fingers dip just below the fabric of your dress in the process, grazing down the center of your chest.

“You nervous or something?”

Nervous, no. Joel didn’t make you nervous anymore. The heat between your legs told you otherwise, and the need for touch was impossible to ignore and maybe just for a moment—just a second, you could let him. It would solve this ridiculous ache that had grown between your legs.

Joel seems so in tune with you and he sees the way your eyes are locked on his hand, unmoving but the half of his fingers tucked under the top of your dress.

“You don’t make me nervous, Joel.”

That wasn’t necessarily the question—and suddenly, you realize your misstep, looking up at him suddenly to catch the intense look on his face, almost like he was anticipating your gaze. His bottom lip is slightly parted from his top, face flush from the summer heat but his eyes are dark, follow the path of your face until it lands on his hand and then he speaks.

“What is it then?”

The way you press your thighs together at the sound of his voice, low and heated, spoken behind a gaze that made you feel small but admired.

Touch me. Make it better.

You don’t say it, it’s only a thought.

But, Joel is a mind reader. He never leaves your sight, but his hand moves on its own accord and squeezes your breast gently. His rough and calloused palm is a stark contrast over soft skin and if you would have made any sign of not wanting this, he would’ve pulled away.

Instead, your chest cants under his touch and your head nods without an answer to his question, because he already knew.

“Lemme see ‘em, sweetheart,” It takes little effort to pull the straps down your shoulders, his other hand pushing the fabric just below your breasts, allowing them free and Joel makes a soft, low noise behind you as he covers your chest with both hands, thumbs grazing over your nipples as they pebble under his touch, “that feel better?”

Not good. Not alright. Better—was he helping you? Was he soothing that ache he’d created?

“Y-Yeah, yes.”

He’s just as curious, squeezing the flesh in hands and occasionally letting his finger trace down your abdomen as your dress shifts and shifts until it’s barely a means to keeping your modesty over your lap, hands pressed down at the space beside Joel’s hips as you push yourself up until your head is nearly level with his, his hands squeezing your tits together as you sigh. He hooks his chin over you shoulder and watches, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back.

“You need more?” He asks, “Tell me, baby—I’m right here.”

The baby rings through your head like a warning bell.

Once was an accident, twice a coincidence, three times…

Stop it. Stop it now and you won’t have to face the awkwardness after your high wore off and you both had a night to sleep and think and regret—but you find yourself nodding anyway.

Why was Joel any different from a random hookup? Other than being your neighbor, slowly coming to what you consider to be a friend, crumbling apart before you as he hikes your dress up over your hips and grips it tight.

You nod to his question.

“Take those off,” He speaks over your shoulder and you don’t need persuading, fingers hooking into the underwear clinging to your hips and down, over your ankles as you kick them away and almost instantly Joel’s hands are on your knees, spreading you wide, his palms squeezing at the inside of your thigh, “shit, look at that—“

He dips a finger down the center of your pussy, through the slick pool of accumulated pleasure and pulls away, shiny and glistening against his fingertips as he breathes against the shell of your ear, “All that just from me touchin’ you?”

You could answer—keep dragging out this game of cat and mouse that had started between you but instead you reach for his hand, placing it against your cunt as he cups it with his palm, dragging the two middle most fingers up and down the seam, circling over your clit briefly before they’re plunging inside of you with ease, aided by just how wet you were—your pussy throbs around his fingers.

Words are few and far between outside of the soft, mewling noises you make into the side of his face as your arm comes up and wraps around the back of his neck, yanking at the short hair at his nape and dragging your mouth along his cheek as you breath out in short huffs, his other hand coming down to circle at your clit with no preamble—straight for the kill and eager without saying it.

His grip is heavy, forceful as his fingers pump in and out of you pussy with little care, the soft squelch of your arousal around his fingers forcing the heat to climb to your face and you feel his jeans rutting into the backside, desperate for relief just as much as you but too selfless to speak up about it.

And you feel the crest in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy flutters around his fingers, a shout that is quickly muffled by Joel’s hand as it covers your mouth, the fingers still buried inside of you and working you through the aftershocks as he shushes you gently. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, legs shaking slightly as he removes his fingers and squeezes tenderly at the inside of your thigh, feeling the dampness from his fingers spread over your skin before they’re climbing their way up your body, along your skin until he’s bringing them to his mouth silently and cleaning them up like he’d made a mess of his meal, your eyes widen at the sight and you feel overtaken, flooded with desire that you can’t sit and suffer with any longer.

“Knew I was right in callin’ you sugar,” He teases, catching your face in between his fingers as you turn to kneel between his legs, “so damn sweet.”

His fingers tap at his thighs, rough denim under his fingertips to match his overworked, weathered hands and you can’t help but admire, knowing they had been buried inside of you a few moments ago and you bow your head, popping the button of Joel’s jeans as he casually reaches for your hips, kneading the muscle of your thighs as he watches, helping you situate his jeans far enough down his own thighs that you can slip your hands past his boxers, straining against the weight of his cock, hard and aching as it reached up toward his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” He tells you, but you scoff slightly in amusement, not wanting to know how frazzled you look, half-lidded and bloodshot eyes under the moonlight, bare aside from the newly bought dress at your waist and Joel is most definitely still staring at your tits, his eyes dragging up to your face a few seconds too late, “I’m guessin’ we should of talked through this first but I just wanted to make you feel good—”

“You think I feel obligated?” Your eyebrow raises up slightly before you’re pulling his boxer down just enough that his cock springs out, bobbing away from his stomach slightly and you only allow yourself half a second to react.

He’s big, from root to tip you know it is the biggest you’ve ever had and you’re waiting for the cocky remark, the begging for compliments and thoughts that you hear so often during these halfway thought out hook-ups but this wasn’t that. It was weeks of build up, the tension line snapping under the weight of your unspoken desire for each other.

“Joel—”

“Don’t go boostin’ my ego,” He chuckles, “—not you, baby.”

You laugh softly and dip your head, feeling his hand curve over and through your hair, down your neck before it settles against the middle of your back and he brushes the stray hair from your face, allows his finger to rest behind your ear as you tilt your head and lick a long stripe up his cock, flicking your eyes up briefly to catch him staring, mouth closed and unnaturally stoic for a moment, like he’s holding his breath.

“Show me,” You plead with him, “whaddya like?”

You move down slightly to roll your tongue along his balls, the weight of it in your mouth as you suckle and feel his fingertips scrape gently along your skin, allowing a few moments of your own exploration before he’s wrapping his hand around his shaft and using the other to grip your chin and rubbing the tip against your half-open mouth, forcing a dribble of spit between your lips and letting it trail down the tip before he feeds his cock into your mouth, tongue spreading flat over the underside and keeping him in your eye-line before it’s nearly impossible, feeling him guide you down until his cock nudges the back of your throat with a slight sting, eyes watering.

“Look at that,” His voice is low, gruff as it rumbles in his chest, “makin’ it all fit in that pretty little moutha’ yours.”

You quickly realize that Joel enjoys watching you feel consumed by him, choking on his cock as your head bobs up and down with fervor, a gentle guiding hand against the back of your head as you breathe through your nose, feeling him nudge the back of your throat over and over and over until you find yourself fighting for air and oblivious to the symphony of curses Joel was spewing above you as his neck was tight, straining as he tipped his own head back against the chair.

And he looks too fucking good to pass up on. You rise, pulling at the collar of his shirt to grab his attention and his eyes open wide, his pupils blown out and dilated as he watches you move, biting at your bottom lip as you shuffled your legs over his hips to straddle him.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Can I—sweetheart, you sure?”

You give him a look of flippant disregard, too impatient to pace through the steps of sureness. But, Joel is focused suddenly, pulling your attention to him as his palm finds your face, cradling your cheek and rubbing his thumb over the shape of your lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” He tells you.

“Yes, Joel.” You answer him impatiently, “I just—I mean I don’t have anything, but…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that,” Joel chuckles, “been out of commission for a while, sugar.”

You can’t help to release the giggle that bubbles in your chest at that.

He’d had kids, a family at some point—but that wasn’t his life now. He was a renewed bachelor, experiencing all the things he’d put on the back-burner to be a good and proper father. While this hadn’t been at the top of his list, or even anywhere on it really, you can see the happy satisfaction on his face with how comfortable he’s grown in the time you’ve gotten to know one another.

“Can’t tell,” You comment slyly as you lift up on your knees, allowing Joel to shift his jeans further down until they’re bunched sloppily at his ankles.

Joel rolls his eyes fondly, “Go on, baby.”

He watches, eyes following your hand as you grip his cock at the base, rubbing it along the center of your cunt, gliding through messy arousal and finding some excitement in the way he squeezes at your thighs a little too hard, fingers curling around the back of your knee as the head of his cock catches against your clit, again, again, barely allowing him to press inside of you until finally, a few harsh pleas balancing on his tongue that quickly dissipate as you sink down onto him inch by suffocating inch.

You breathe out slowly, watching Joel as he watches you, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock as it settles inside of you, only allowing the slow, gentle rock of your hips as you adjust.

His stomach flexes under your touch, fisting your hands into his shirt and lifting it out of the way before Joel gets the hint and strips himself completely, kicking his jeans off weakly as you sigh, squeezing gently as his shoulders and feeling his hands grip at your backside, into the soft flesh of your cheeks and you strip the wrinkled fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere behind Joel’s head as you fingers grip along the edge the bar of the chair above his head, lifting your hips in time with his movements as he keeps a firm hand on you, allowing soft puffs of groans to fall from his lips as your tits bounce with the frantic movement and Joel leans forward, capturing the side of your breast between his teeth, a gentle bite that causes you to squeak.

It’s quickly soothed by his tongue before he flicks it over your nipple, circling the peaked and pebbled nub before he’s sucking it between his teeth, eyes locking on yours from the depraved angle it allows you, still able to spot the few shining grays of his hair in this light. You card your fingers through his hair and arch your chest into his mouth, “J-Joel, maybe we should move this inside.”

He shakes his head, mouth still stuffed full with you as you moan out loudly when he smacks your ass in one gentle but solid swing and you want to blame his boldness on the dwindling drug in your system, but somehow you come to the conclusion that it was just Joel, unbridled and wanting. Of you.

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” Joel disagrees as he pulls back, “no one gives a damn ‘round here, anyways.”

“Says you,” You laugh weakly, whimpering softly as he snaps his hips into you with sudden force, his hand reaching for the back of your neck to urge you forward, forgoing your body for your lips and it’s more intense than anything else going on around you—his cock stuffed inside of you, the fingers on your skin, it didn’t matter for that brief second of a first touch, kissing you sloppily as you moan into each other’s shared space.

“Well, I do—got this one neighbor,” He jokes, “nosey as shit but damn is she a good fuckin’ time.”

You gasp as he pulls you close, free arm wrapping around your back as he slips his tongue past your lips, using the opportunity as your lips part to devour you in an instant and you pull at the stands of his hair in turn, kissing him back with a harsh pressure that begs for more.

“M’not nosey,” You defend lamely, “just—fuck, curious, ya know?”

“Thank god for that,” Joel sighs, and your pussy flutters before squeezing around him, “oh, fuck baby—do that... do that again.”

You do, teasingly, watching as Joel curses under his breath and leans back, watching you move against him without shame, a hand pressing against your stomach to guide you to lean back slightly, “Look at that, sweetheart—makin’ a goddamn mess on me.”

The short, coarse hair at his groin is wet and sure enough, covered in the messy slick of you and mixed with the thin sheen of sweat that had covered both of your bodies in this sticky heat.

“You like the idea of gettin’ high and letting me fuck you?” Joel questions amongst the pound of your heart in your ears, the heat of his gaze quickly driving you toward the edge again. He chuckles, “Dirty—dirty girl. Was that what you’ve been plannin’ since the beginning?”

“Would’ve let you fuck me either way,” You admit, only a half-truth. You weren’t sure if you’d ever pluck up the courage had Joel not made the first move, but you’re damn sure glad he did anyways, “and with a cock like that, god—”

“Easy,” Joel warns, “givin’ me a complex the way you were looking at it.”

“It’s big, Joel.” You admit, pushing the stray hair that had fallen down over his forehead away and back into this messily quaffed hair, “You like knowing I can barely fit it all in my mouth, don’t—don’t act coy about it.”

He’s not—he’d been more than willing to allow you to choke on the girth of him until you begged for mercy, but given his normally gentle nature with you, he wasn’t going to take it that far.

Your brow drags up in a pinch, moaning as his thumb presses against your clit and circles, presses down gently, just the right amount of everything to drive you to near insanity. Your thighs squeeze against his own where he has you spread out, hands balled up into fists that punch gently at his chest.

“You’re right there, baby—gotcha, I gotcha.” He murmurs, watching you intently as you grip at the arm wrapped around your back to keep you upright, fingers digging into his bicep as you tip over the edge, legs shaking through the second orgasm he’s given you that night, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start to see the flurry of stars in your darkened vision.

Your limbs give out shortly after, falling against his chest as he snaps his hips, just near the edge himself as he groans, grunts, breathing hotly into the curve of your neck and you rub at the little spot behind his ear that makes him chuckle, “Want it all inside,” You tell him through a cloud haze of need and pure desire, “can you do that, Joel?”

“Fill you up, sugar?” He asks, sounding a little taken aback, “If that’s—if that’s somethin’ you’re comfortable with.”

You nod eagerly and he loosens the reins completely, lifting one of your legs until you can plant a foot near his hip and he pounds into you, pulling back when he feels the impending orgasm grow in his gut, hot and intense. He watches as he comes inside of you with a few slow snaps of his hips.

“Shit,” He curses after a drawn-out silence, helping you move off of him and into a more comfortable position between his legs as he grabs lazily for his shirt, cleaning up the mess of your wet arousal against his skin and letting the spoiled shirt rest over his groin for modesty, breathing in slow, full breaths.

It’s been too long for him and he knows it.

Joel reaches for the dress that caught on the edge of the chair by his head and hands it over, watching as you slipped it over your head, legs still spread out over his own and he can’t help but draw his eyes to the sight of his come dripping out between your legs and he grins subtly, motioning you forward with a tired finger that you look at curiously before scooting forward an inch, thinking he may wipe something of your face, arrange a piece of hair back into place, but instead he’s slipping his ring finger inside of you and it forces a surprised gasp from your chest.

You laugh airily and swat his hand away, “Stop that,” You tell him.

“Just makin’ sure you don’t waste any of it, sweetheart.”

You snort, flipping him off half-heartedly as you reach for your underwear, standing up to pull it back up your hips and under your dress, swaying slightly on your feet after having been sat for so long.

You sigh, pushing your hair back with your hands, suddenly feeling sticky and gross in the aftermath and Joel seems to notice, slowly redressing himself as he stands.

“Why don’t you shower?” Joel suggests, leaving his jeans unbutton but pulled back up his hips. Shirt balled up in his hand.

You look geared to say no, but Joel sweetens the deal.

He looks at his watch, nearing two in the morning.

“I’ll make us an early breakfast,” He offers, shrugging with a lazy smile, “I mean—early early, because I know you’re probably starvin’. I know I am.”

“Only if you’ll make the blueberry pancakes.”

Of course that was the ultimatum.

“Deal, sugar—go get your ass in the shower.” He nods toward the house and you laugh, running away from the hand that pushes at your back.

So, maybe Joel wasn’t the scary neighbor you assumed him to be. But, you couldn’t deny the bursting affection that was growing in your chest for him and that was even more terrifying.

And when he serves up the pancakes to you, hair damp and dripping down your back and onto the shirt he’d lent you, a small square of pancake balanced on a fork that he feeds into your mouth, you feel it.

He's still shirtless, barefoot against his kitchen floor.

“We can—we can do this again, right?”

Joel smiles, looking down at the plate as he cuts off another piece.

“I’ve been waitin’ an entire summer to get the courage to do that, or even ask you on a proper date—we can do whatever you want, sugar.”

“Dates are overrated,” You shrug, “I like this better.”

“Good,” Joel grins, “least now I can mow that lawn of yours without feelin’ bad for asking.”

“Excuse you—I do just fine on my own,” You gasp with mock offense.

You’re lying—that mower was a piece of shit and Joel could see the way your face quickly melts into embarrassment, laughing quietly behind his fist.

“I like helpin’ out,” He tells you with a shrug, beginning to list off a few things he could help work on around your house, eyes drifting off as he went through the mental list, oblivious to the sudden closeness as you leaned over the counter and capture his lips, closed mouth with both of your cheeks puffed full of pancakes.

“You ramble when you’re high,” You tease him, “it’s adorable.”

Joel grimaces at the word but relents when he sees you smile, wide and spreading out across your entire face, snatching the fork from his hand while he’s distracted.

“So, same time next week?”

“Deal, sweetheart.”

Joel doesn’t care that you show up empty-handed the following week.

And frankly, neither do you.

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pasca #pedro pascal characters #my writing #um i have no reason other than pure horknee-ness

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jiarkives · 1 day

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Azriel meets his mate who is a no nonsense female and isn’t dealing with the IC busy body bullshit. And azriel loves it cause he wants to be able to have something that is just his

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

“Leave, brother, the scent of your arousal is starting to flood the room.”

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ julia writes about acotar !#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ julia writes about azriel !#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x you #azriel x you #acotar x fem!reader #azriel x fem!reader #acotar x female!reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x mate!reader #mate!reader #acotar fluff #azriel fluff #acotar imagine #azriel imagine

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tayytayy12 · 3 days

Text

Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me | LN4 x singer!reader

DR3 x Exgf!reade

Summary - After a messy breakup with Daniel reader releases a new album, but no one expects the random love song at the end of it, and they certainly didn’t expect it to be about Daniel’s friend and ex-teammate.

Warnings - Cheating mentioned, swearing, villain Daniel (for the request I love Danny Ric)

FaceClaim - Gracie Abrams

Requested - Yes

Notes - Please give me the benefit of the doubt for some spelling errors, it’s not my strong suite 😭

Yourusername

Liked by - YukiTsunoda22, TaylorSwift, SabrinaCarpenter, and 5,653,773 others

Yourusername - I’m back, and I’m bringing you a gift to apologise for being away for so long 🤍 my brand new album, ‘My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys’ is out tomorrow, you’ll hear more from me then. I love you 💕

View comments

User1 - Y/N OMFG AHHHH

User2 - I CANT WAIT A WHOLE NEW ALBUM TOMORROW WHAT.

User3 - ITS ONLY BEEN 4 MONTHS

User4 - This shit looks sad

User5 - Daniel did some fucked up shit in their relationship 😭

User6 - Hoe wdym ‘My boy only breaks his favourite toys’

User7 - Is everyone forgetting Daniel’s favourite bar in Australia is called ‘the black dog’

User8 - He fucked up big time

User9 - Fr, how do you cheat on THEE y/n y/l/n?

User10 - Daniel’s teammate in the likes shows that even the grid don’t agree w how he treated our girl 😭

User11 - Stop making him a villain okay, he didn’t know what he was doing.

User12 - Daniel, and thirty four year old man, didn’t know what he was doing when he controlled, belittled and public cheated on Y/n, a TWENTY THREE year old girl? He knew what he was doing, you can’t defend him anymore.

SabrinaCarpenter - You even look pretty when you’re sad

Liked by author

Yourusername

Liked by - JackAntanoff, MaxVerstappen1 and 6,545,720 others

Tagged | @/AaronDessner, @/JackAntanoff

Yourusername - My god where do I even start? This album is everything and more to me, really. The last year of my life writing these songs has been my escape from my reality, one that I really didn’t want to be a part of, but it was also one that I didn’t know how to escape, and when I finally did I didn’t know how to let go of all the pain I’d kept with me in that time. So, I picked up my pen and let it do the talking. This is my first album where every song is written solely by me, but of course I had the help of my soulmate collaborators, jack and Aaron to produce and do their magic. The pair of them helped me, along with someone special showed me that what I felt was okay, and valid. These songs are my most unfiltered and my most vulnerable, this is not an album that has been made for the general public. This one is one I made with only you, my biggest supporters and myself in mind. I’m forever grateful of how I’m able to trust you with my feelings without any fear. I love you, and I hope you live this album like I do, or it could help you like it did me. Just remember, you’re not alone in your feelings 🤍

‘My boy only brakes his favourite toys’ is all yours now, all eighteen tracks about my coping mechanisms, and one about how there’s happiness after heartbreak… 🤍

View comments

JackAntanoff - You’re a living legend 🫡

Yourusername - That’s all you New Jersey

User13 - What. The. Fuck. This. Album. Has. Killed. Me.

User14 - I’m sorry but wtfdym miss Y/n Y/l/n has a song where she says the word ‘I’ll get older but your lover stay my age’

User15 - All too well killed me

User16 - I love how you can just tell what songs were produced by jack and what by Aaron

User17 - ‘I know it won’t work’ is so heart wrenching istg no one speak to me

User18 - I’m its biggest stan

User19 - WHERE DID THIS HOE FIND MY DIARY WHEN WRITING THE PROPHECY ?!??!!??

User20 - Because I liked a boy is so superior, like she finally addressed what Daniel’s ‘fans’ put her through at the start of their relationship

User21 - ‘Say it once again with feeling, how the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving, the deflation of our dreaming, leaving me breathed and reeling, my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree d-y-i-n-g’

User22 - How did it end is so superior

User23 - Y/n could write Romeo and Juliet but Shakespeare couldn’t write this bridge

User24 - PAY FOR MY THERAPY

User25 - Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed? Were you writing a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy? In fifty years, will all this be declassified? And you'll confess why you did it. And I'll say, "Good riddance". 'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. I would've died for your sins. Instead, I just died inside. And you deserve prison, but you won't get time

User26 - The smallest man who ever lives reigns supreme on this album

User27 - NONE OF YOU HOES TALKING ABOUT CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT?

User28 - FR WTFDYM THERES THIS WHOLE SAD ASS ALBUM THEN JUST THE BEST LOVE SONG Y/N HAS EVER WRITTEN

User29 - I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE HELL ITS ABOUT

Yourusername - And who is my man? that’s one secret I’ll never tell.

User30 - HOE YOU WATCH TOO MUCH GOSSIP GIRL

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, Charles_ Leclerc and 2,536,639 others

LandoNorris - Week off shenanigans, I’m still the biggest Y/n Y/l/n fan. New albums great btw 🫡

View comments

User31 - Everyone is a Y/n fan

User32 - WHO ARE THOSE FLOWERS FOR HELLO

User33 - he has taste with call it what you want AND feather

User34 - he made it CLEAR he’s team Y/n

User35 - Thought Daniel was your friend..?

User36 - Everyone ignoring the boyfriend Lando pic

Yourusername - Thanks for the streams 🫡

LandoNorris - no problem 😌

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, Lilymhe and 2,726,637 others

Tagged | @/landonorris

Yourusername - Turns out I’m physically unable to do a soft launch so, THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND LANDO AINT HE ADORABLE

View comments

User37 - What the fuck

User38 - OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

User39 - I’m in love with them already what

User40 - Y/n you’re truly an icon

User41 - THE PHOTOS OMG THEYRE ADORABLE 😭

DanielRicciardo - wow.

User42 - GET YOUR STINKY ASS OUT OF HERE WE DONT WANT YOU LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE

User43 - This is his karma

LandoNorris - You’re cute

Yourusername - Stop I’m blushing.

User44 - Obsessed.

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, OscarPiastri and 2,644,646 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername

LandoNorris - Lol stay mad, should’ve treated her better when you had her.

I love you so much, and I’m going to treat you that way 🤍

View comments

User45 - LMAOOOO

Yourusername - My god I love you

LandoNorris - I love you so much more

———————

626 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 18 hours

Text

Dress up

sugardaddy!harry x yn | An extra for The Arrangement

Summary: Y/n dresses up in diamonds and jewels and thinks she looks sexy so she secretly makes a solo video of herself. But then she goes out on a limb and sends the video to Harry while he's working.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've given you an update for these two! This was requested! Here

Word Count: 4,548

Warning: 18+ only, smut, use of toys, spanking, sharing of a solo sex tape

The Arrangement Masterlist

. .

Y/n remembers a time when she’d wear clothes that were slightly unkempt. Clean but perhaps maybe a little wrinkled. Shirt hems and collars would be folded funny, buttons misaligned, sweaters and dresses not fitted properly…

Back then she relied on the drier to de-wrinkle her clothes. Nowadays a professional service delivered her freshly cleaned and pressed items to her door. All of which were tailored to fit her perfectly.

So it wasn’t unusual for Y/n to play dress up with herself when Harry was away at the office and she was at home alone. She enjoyed having such nice clothes and things filling her closet. It’s something she never had before.

She’d layer on a silk Chanel dress with her Ferragamo belt, a Hermes scarf, and the expensive custom disk hat with silk roses Harry bought her when they went to the Kentucky Derby. She’d watch herself in the long floor-length mirror and practice walking like a woman who owned the kind of clothes she was wearing.

But sometimes she focused on the jewelry. The pretty shiny rocks and jewels, delicately woven precious metal bands and chains… Harry had bought her more jewelry than she’d ever seen in her life. Diamonds, gold, platinum, rubies, emeralds, pearls, silver… Rings, watches, brooches, necklaces, anklets, earrings, belts, and bracelets. You name it.

And on this particular evening, Harry was at a dinner meeting that was going to run late. She’d bathed and put on her perfumed moisturizing balm and then walked naked into her massive walk-in closet where she opened up her lingerie drawer and spotted the elbow-length velvet opera gloves. She’d only ever worn them once but she remembers the way they felt on her arms and how luxurious it made her feel.

Watching herself in her mirror she slid each glove up her arms and posed, raising her arms over her head to lift her tits and make her tummy appear more svelte.

She grinned as she turned and then she had a sudden idea. Opening up her jewelry armoire she was presented with shiny, sparkly bobbles and jewels.

“Siri… shuffle music by Sara Vaughan to the master bedroom speakers.”

When the jazzy slow music began to play she traced her gloved fingers over the diamond necklace she often wished she could wear every day. It was littered in diamonds, the drop cutting down to just above her cleavage. Lifting it up she placed it gently over her head and laid it over her bust. It was spectacular. Heavy and twinkly and chilled on her skin. She smoothed her hands down her body and stared at her figure in the mirror wearing nothing but gloves and the ridiculously expensive necklace Harry had bought her.

Which then gave her the idea to add on the pretty rainbow jewel body belt. The thin chain was loaded with various colored diamonds, emeralds, rubies, topaz… The end of the chain draped down her back, laying just over her bum with a pretty pearl at the end. Then she put on the drop diamond earrings that matched the necklace. The bottom diamond was so big it nearly reached her shoulder when she shrugged.

She layered pearls and opals and her diamond bracelets over her gloved wrists and then slid on her black high heels, doing a dramatic twirl and bending to see her backside with a giggle.

She swayed her hips to the sexy music crooning through the speakers and then grinned at herself in the mirror, “Look how pretty… Daddy would love this.”

Feeling her naked skin under her gloves was a dream. The way the velvet ran smoothly over her flesh felt sexy and the more jewelry she layered on the prettier she felt. All sparkly and fancy with soft skin and perked nipples.

Sitting her video camera on its stand next to the mirror she hit record and began dancing slowly with herself, all decked out in diamonds. Running her hands over her curves and up to her tits she bit her lip and looked at the camera, “There isn’t anyone that wouldn’t want to have this…” She spun around and laughed to herself before bending at the waist and spreading her thighs just enough that the camera could catch the view of her pussy from behind.

Peeking over her shoulder she stared into the lens and drew a hand down her back and over her bottom before swatting a cheek and moaning softly, “Not so bad with the glove,” she spoke aloud as she lowered her fingers until she could feel the velvet sliding over her pussy, back and forth.

Humming she looked at herself in the mirror and then pressed her finger over her other tight hole, “Needs a little sparkle, doesn’t it?”

She stood up and pulled open her toy drawer to select the plug of the night. It was an easy choice. The anal plug with diamonds. Real diamonds. Another thing she didn’t often wear because it was the least practical of her plugs. But it was pretty.

Stepping back up to the camera she held the plug up and drizzled lube over the tip then repeated the words of the song Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…

Bending at the waist, ass aimed toward the camera she took her left hand and pulled at her cheek as she began to push the plug into her hole with her right hand. Y/n had become quite the expert at putting in her own plugs. She was used to it now. Even though Harry always told her to not do it when he wasn’t present, she often did it anyway. They had fun with it every time he found out she disobeyed him (but she knew he secretly loved it).

“Oh!” She squeaked when the cool metal fit into place and stretched her out. “Feels so good…” she swayed her hips as she spread her ass cheeks for the camera and hummed to the music.

Turning around to face the camera she tutted at herself, “Beautiful… So sparkly. Think I deserve a treat,” she grinned at her reflection and brushed her hand down her torso to her hips, and raised the other arm over her head as she toyed with her clit and gasped.

Of course, she was putting on a little show. Something to watch later on in private. She’d gotten in the habit of making little videos of herself dancing naked or masturbating. Or just talking about nothing really. She’d started to feel so confident and happy with herself thanks to Harry. And the videos were her naughty little secret. Sometimes, with the extra sexy ones, she’d even touch herself as she rewatched them later on, loving the way she looked.

This time was no different. She was stunning with sparkly jewels and velvet gloves. Long stretched of bare skin, breasts bouncing as she swayed and twirled.

Reaching for her breasts she squished them together with a moan and then jiggled them at the camera before swiping her thumb over each nipple, “Get those nice and hard. We know how much I like hard things don’t we?” She laughed to herself.

Reaching into her toy drawer she found her tiny pink vibrator and turned it on, “Gonna feel so good,” she ran the small toy down the center of her body, between her breasts, over her belly button, and then circled it over her pussy with a sharp inhale.

Moving to the music she kept her eyes on the camera and continued pressing the toy against her clit, “Oh… I’m getting so wet.”

Her breathing picked up and her nipples tightened more, goosebumps covered her skin as she felt the yummy sensation of arousal fill her veins.

“Mmm… I do it so well. Always get myself off. Don’t need Daddy every time, do we?” She chuckled and then gasped when she pressed the toy harder against her bud.

“So wet already. Such a dirty, horny girl…” she bit her lip and turned off the pink toy before placing it on the counter and running her velvet-covered fingers up and down her swollen, wet pussy, “So messy… mmm… Gonna get in so much trouble doing this. I think Daddy’s gonna have to spank me.”

The more she stroked her pearl the wetter her gloves got. She clenched her empty hole and moaned, “Need more. Like all my holes stuffed,” she spoke breathily as she peeked into her drawer and pulled out her clear silicone dildo. The extra long one that was ridged thickly and made her come so fast. She needed to get on with the show. Harry would be coming back soon.

Pulling her soft chair in front of the mirror and the camera she gently sat and cooed at the feel of the plug shifting under her bum, “Oop! Fuck that’s feeling really good.”

Y/n lifted her legs, planting her heeled feet on the seat cushion and spreading her thighs so there was an excellent view of her plug and her pussy.

“I’ve gotten myself all wet,” she drew a finger over her inner thigh and licked at the velvet-gloved finger, “Mm! I know why Daddy says it tastes so good. So yummy,” she sighed as she spread her legs wider and placed the dildo against her pussy lips, running it through her slippery folds before finally pushing it in slowly.

She parted her lips and stared into the camera as she began to work the silicone toy in and out until she could push it in deep and it pressed into the shared wall where her anal plug was. The toy tucked in her ass bobbed every time she thrust the dildo in deep and she moaned at the sight, “Oh my god… that’s so hot isn’t it? Look at how both holes take everything I give them so well.”

Fucking herself with the dildo and rubbing her clit with her gloves she stretched her neck back and whined loudly.

The slick sound of her cunt around the silicone toy filled the spaces between the notes and the music playing, just loud enough for the camera to pick up the sound. Going in faster she lulled her head forward to keep her eyes on the camera but she was in a bit of a daze. She always tried to keep her eyes open for the camera when she came because that was her favorite.

“Good girl, baby… Taking your toys so good. Fucking look like a goddess right now. Oh shit… that’s it… doing it so good…”

Her chest was rising and falling and she heard the chime of an incoming text, which she was sure was Harry, “Daddy’s trying to reach me,” she laughed playfully, “But his little girl is busy fucking herself, isn’t that right?”

It wasn’t long before she was shaking and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her velvet gloves were ruined with her arousal as she fingered her swollen clit and clamped down on the dildo and the plug with a soft cry, “Oh god! Right there… Fuck…”

Her orgasm had wiped her out. She tried keeping her eyes on the camera but her whole head was swirling with pleasure and lust as she trembled and moaned, creaming all over her dildo.

She heaved and pulled the toy out, dropping it to the floor, and leaned back into the cushion to recover for a moment, “So good. You always do it right. Even better than Daddy sometimes,” she snorted a laugh and sat up to look at the camera teasingly before wobbly legs took her across the space to turn off the recording on her camera.

. . .

Y/n had watched her newest home video at least four times. And she was so turned on every time she watched it, she’d make herself come in record time, rubbing her clit and feeling so proud of how pretty she looked and how brave she’d become since she’d been with Harry.

And the recent video with all the jewels was her best work yet. She really loved it. So much so that she was thinking about sharing it with Harry. She wondered what he’d think about it. She was positive he’d just go nuts over it like she did. He’d act all upset and stoic. Probably give her a good spanking (at least) but she knew he’d adore it.

So, in a moment of sheer insanity or bravery (she wasn’t sure which) she tucked her top row of teeth into her bottom lip, attached the video to a text message for Harry, and squealed when she hit send. She couldn’t believe she’d sent it. All of her solo videos had been her little secret all this time but now she was bringing Harry into the mix by showing him.

It was 2 pm on a Wednesday. He was at the office and probably just getting out of his most recent meeting. And she knew he’d see it shortly after she sent it.

She kept her eye on the screen of her phone, waiting for the message to say ‘read’. It only took a few minutes. She giggled to herself as she snuggled into the couch with her laptop and watched the video, trying to time it so that she was watching it at the same time he was. Wondering what he was thinking with every minute that drew on.

Her heart was racing in anticipation of his response. She knew she’d be in for a bit of punishment but she didn’t know exactly what to expect from it.

But then minute after minute drew on. The video had ended and there was no word from Harry. No bobbing dots to indicate he was texting. No phone call. Nada.

She felt heat creep over her skin as she thought about all the ways Harry would teach her a lesson. Y/n knew Harry was making a plan. Surely he was devising some kind of punishment for her misbehavior. She couldn’t wait.

Less than an hour later Harry was walking through the front door. Y/n peeked over the back of the couch toward the foyer entry and she saw him pass through but he didn’t look in her direction. He breezed by cooly and went into the kitchen.

Y/n scrambled off the couch to follow after him. He was pouring a glass of water for himself silently when she rounded the island and put her hands on his shoulders, “Hi, Daddy.”

He grunted and moved away, making her hands fall from his back as he put the water pitcher back into the fridge before taking a long gulp of his water.

Waiting silently for him to award her a glance she watched her man place the empty glass into the sink as he sighed, placing his palms flat onto the marble countertop, “So you think you can take care of yourself better than I can? Is that right?”

She knew that line would stick out to him.

“I was just teasing. You know no one does it better than you, Da–“

“And you disobeyed me. Looked like you were having the time of your life, Y/n. Did you enjoy wearing all the expensive jewelry I bought you? Enjoyed getting yourself off while I was working hard to keep a roof over your head?” He turned and looked at her. Stern and serious.

Now she knew he was being dramatic. The whole keep-a-roof-over-your-head comment was a bit silly. Harry could retire right then if he wanted to.

“I did enjoy it, actually,” she quipped back before biting her lip.

“Well now at least you’re being honest with me. When did you make the video? Was this today?”

Shaking her head she leaned into the counter, “A week ago.”

He nodded slowly, his green eyes trailing down over her body. She was only wearing one of his t-shirts.

“And what were you up to today that compelled you to send me this one-week-old video?”

She gulped, “Nothing really. Um… I just wanted to share it with you because I liked it. Thought you’d like it to.” She said blinking her eyes innocently at him.

Harry sniffed, “It was very pretty to look at. But you went against my explicit rules. Does Daddy not give you enough orgasms every day? Every morning and every night I work to keep you satisfied. Are you so desperate for an orgasm that you can’t wait a few hours until I get home?”

She breathed shallowly and looked down, “I just sometimes like to do it myself. And I felt so pretty.”

Y/n felt Harry’s touch on her arm, “Come.”

She followed him upstairs to her closet where he opened up her drawers until he found her toys and then her gloves and opened up the jewelry armoire.

“Put everything on that you had in the video. Meet me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Y/n felt her nerves bubble as she put everything on. The jewels, the gloves, the plug, and her heels. She sighed as she gave herself a once over in the mirror before stepping out into the bedroom where Harry was seated at the end of the bed facing the TV. Her video on the large screen paused at the beginning. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, ready to get to work.

“C’mere,” he patted his lap. He kept his eyes focused on her body as she neared him and placed her hand on his shoulder to sit down but he pulled her over his thighs, tummy down, and ass up where he gave her a very swift smack and then massaged at the meat of her bum, pulling her plushy cheeks apart and tapped her plug, “Good. Looks like we’re all set.”

Her head was hanging down and the weight of the necklace was especially heavy in her new position, the earrings pulling at her lobes as she rocked over him to stabilize herself. She imagined she was going to need to hang on to something.

“Watch with me. Lift your head. Let’s see this dirty little video my spoiled girl made.”

She scoured the screen with her eyes, her body in view and the jewels glinting off the light from above her. Y/n had to strain to keep her head up. She leveraged herself up with her hand on the bed next to Harry’s thigh.

She had seen the video enough times that she had the whole thing nearly memorized. The music, the moment she bends and shows the camera her plug, the lines she spoke…

Harry spanked her ass, two stinging open palmed swats to each side and she winced at the pain and gasped as she slid down, losing her balance when she kicked a leg up.

“Stay still for me and keep watching,” he spoke gruffly as he grasped the front of her neck and tilted her head back up so she could watch with him.

Gulping into his palm she arched her back when he spanked her bottom again, “Look at how pretty you are in my lap, baby,” he ran his hand down her spine to the little jeweled belt where the pearl hung at the top of her crack, “All these expensive things on your body, ass up for me,” he twisted the plug, “Pussy wet.”

She moaned when he ran his fingers between her crease and pressed his middle finger inside of her cunt before pulling it out and wiping it on the back of her thigh, where he then gave her another smack.

“Who bought all this for you, baby? Hmm? Who made this whole thing possible?”

“You, Daddy!” She didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s right. This video wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me. This pussy wouldn’t be wet if it weren’t for me.”

She nodded against his palm and moaned when his fingers circled her clit.

“Always my desperate, needy little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he pinched her bud and she wiggled her hips but he gripped her neck tighter, “Don’t wiggle. You got yourself into this mess. These are the consequences.”

She squeezed her eyes closed as he swatted her again before he continued speaking, leaning down to groan into her ear, “Do you know how hard I got the moment I opened up that video at work? Walking down the hall to my office I had to hide my boner and click the volume off.”

She felt him pinch at her inner thigh, giving her clit a moment of respite from his fingers, “Had to calm myself down and lock the door. But then I finished watching your little video and I had to excuse myself to leave work early. Do you know how disruptive that was?”

She grunted as he pressed over her plug, “Right now, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with a potential investor. This was a big deal, Y/n. But I physically wasn’t able to stay at the office for a moment longer, and it’s your fault. Every time I thought about the way you came with your legs spread and this little plug flicking around from the dildo you were fucking yourself with… had to calm my cock. Was gonna burst in my pants.”

His fingers slid back into her cunt, two this time as he pumped into her walls and continued gripping her neck, “Look.”

She shifted her eyes to the screen and her voice filtered through the room, her gasps and moans as she began to come. And just as he described, her little plug was twitching in time with the way she was pressing the dildo into her cunt. It was a pretty sight.

She moaned when he kissed the back of her ear, “Fucking gorgeous when you come, baby. But this video? S’like a work of art. But you were still naughty. Didn’t get permission to do any of that did you?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

His fingers were filling her up and squelching with every thrust, “You look so proud of yourself too. So confident. Like a big girl playing dress up with Daddy’s things. And if my cock weren’t throbbing right now I’d really teach you a lesson but I need to come inside of this little pussy. Been aching for it.”

She felt his legs shift and her body was moved, heels on the floor as he steadied her hips before he stood up and began to undo his pants, “Bend over the bed, spread your legs.”

She wanted to watch him pull his cock out. Wanted to see how hard he was but she knew better than to hesitate. She laid herself tummy down on the mattress and spread her thighs apart.

One of his hands was on her hip, lifting her slightly when she felt his thick cock drag against her pussy and then his chest was pressed into her back, “No one does it better than, Daddy.”

The moment he finished his sentence, lips against the shell of her ear, he slammed his cock inside of her. He took both of her hands in his, the velvet gloves keeping her from feeling his palms, as he pulled her arms behind her back and took both wrists in one big hand as he continued rocking into her.

She felt a sharp smack on her ass again and he grunted, thighs flexing as he worked into her. Her shoulders burned as he kept her arms held down at the middle of her back, one hand groping her ass cheek.

The view he had was gorgeous as always. Her plug pushed and pulled with every thrust of Harry’s cock and he could feel the press of it gliding over his cock through her tight warm walls.

The necklace was digging into her chest but she welcomed the way it felt on her skin as well as the burn of another swat to her bum because her body was giving itself over to him.

“My spoiled girl just keeps getting whatever she wants. Even when she’s naughty she gets all these pretty things; gets Daddy’s cock inside of her, gets all the orgasms she can handle. Guess you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you, baby?”

“Umph!” She croaked, her cheek smushed into the comforter, letting go of her ass as he leaned over, palm on the mattress, and drove into her with the kind of force she loved. It felt so much better than anything she could do to herself with her meager dildo. Harry’s cock was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah? Didn’t hear you make that noise in your little video.” He buried himself in, bullying another lewd sound from her throat as his hips rutted against her ass.

“Can’t help those pretty little noises can you? Daddy’s cock will always feel better won’t it?”

She was jolted forward, her mouth open with drool pooling over the blankets, “No… your cock… aoohha!”

Harry grinned at her inability to answer properly as he continued pounding into her, still holding her wrists together at her mid-back.

“Squeezing the fuck out of me baby. There you go… fuck…”

Y/n’s orgasm wiped her body out. The way the plug was stretching her out and Harry’s big cock was slamming into her guts she couldn’t hold on for a second longer.

She heard Harry panting between grunts and then felt both of his hands on her ass as he pressed in deep and unloaded himself, filling her insides with his come.

“My pretty baby. Love seeing you dripping in diamonds and all fucked out of your mind. Does it make you feel good baby? Wearing all these expensive things?”

He had his chest pressed into her back as he spoke quietly into her ear, hips pasted to her ass.

“I love it. It’s so nice, Daddy.”

He moved off of her, reaching an arm under her waist to pull her up to standing, and turned her in her arms, “Look at this,” bringing her gloved hands into his, he lifted them upward, “Ruined. Need to buy you new gloves it appears.”

She realized the cleaning job she’d done on them after making the video had been shoddy at best and now the tips of the fingers were steaky and lighter than the rest of the material, “Maybe dry cleaning?”

Harry pursed his lips as he began to take off her bracelets, unhooking each clasp, “Maybe. Not sure these can be salvaged, though.”

When he pulled her gloves off he reached around her neck to undo the necklace and then her jeweled belt before running his hands up and down her arms, “Gorgeous with or without all the diamonds,” he smirked.

“I like the diamonds, though. Fun to play dress up.”

He raised a brow and brought her left hand up to his mouth pressing his plush lips over her ring finger, “Thinking about what you’d look like with a pretty diamond right here.”

Y/n parted her lips and kept her gaze locked on Harry’s, “Like a… ring?”

Harry laughed at her shocked expression and pushed his fingers between hers as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “Yeah. Like a ring.”

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b14augrana · 3 days

Text

'Spar'

Your sister throws a party for you after you win your first official fight, and you end up having a talk with her girlfriend

Ona Batlle x teen!Bronze!reader

masterlist

Warnings: reader is a boxer but i have 0 boxing knowledge + pretty badly written 😬😬, bunch of sister-in-law bonding time, short little fic

A/N: bit of a different fic, i didn’t want to write this prompt and it took a lot of back and forth decision making but i hope you enjoy 💁‍♀️

Football has never been your thing. Growing up, you’d sit in the backyard and watch your older sister practice all sorts of football-y things, occasionally urging you to give it a try in, but you were never interested. Your thing was boxing.

It was a bit random to most people, granted how good your sister was at football and how much everyone in your family seemed to like it. You could almost perfectly imitate the looks on people’s faces when you told them you were a boxer and you disliked football.

All of the confused faces and questions and people trying to convince you to switch sports never managed to stop you. Sheer determination is what got you to where you are now.

Obviously, you’re not like your sister. Lucy is a world class defender with more accolades than you can remember on top of being one of the faces of women’s football. What most people don’t know about her though, is that she is better at being your big sister than being anything else. She’s the only person you trust without a second thought.

When you’re sad about something? Lucy. When you’re angry? Lucy. When you need help with homework? Lucy. When you have a super important secret that’s bugging you? Lucy.

Your first fight was super important to you. The whole week leading up to it, it was all you could talk about. When you got out of school early and went to Lucy’s training, you spared nobody from your rambles of excitement.

So, when you totally didn’t want a party after your first official boxing match that you ended up winning and you need to count on someone to throw you a party? Lucy.

You didn’t want a party, not really. That didn’t stop Lucy from throwing one anyways. Your basement turned into a dark blue haven, voices barely audible over the music blaring from multiple speakers.

She had invited your friends, as well as some of her teammates. You recognised Aitana and Fridolina, and you had a conversation with them, which Lucy crashed to talk their heads off about your fight and how incredible it was to watch before proceeding to insist that they come watch your next fight. Y’know, classic big sister things, because she knew how much you hated non-family members watching your matches. Like, seriously, you hated it.

If you knew your sister at all, you knew she would’ve invited her girlfriend to this party, so as she was talking to Aitana and Frido about the boxing match, you scanned the room for her. You had met Ona before but your conversations were always brief; either between breaks at training or while she waited in the living room for Lucy to get ready to go out somewhere.

She was nice, but you’ve always been wary of people your sister dates, especially after her and Keira called it off.

You found her sitting on the sofa, scrolling on her phone with her drink in the other hand. You felt bad, because she was all alone, and obviously her other teammates and girlfriend were in the middle of a conversation.

She looked up when she realised you approaching her, and a smile crossed her face when you occupied the vacant spot beside her. “Hi (Y/N),” she greeted.

“Hi Ona. I knew you’d get dragged here,” you responded, reciprocating her bright smile. She laughed at your comment and nodded, placing her phone in her lap.

“I heard about your fight. Congratulations!” she said, and you shook your head. “I think everyone’s heard about it and if not, Lucy will make sure they do,” you grumbled.

“She’s proud to be your big sister, that’s all it is,” Ona replied, and a slightly awkward silence lingered between you two after her words. There wasn’t much silence due to the music, but no words were exchanged, until you spoke.

You turned to her, squinting slightly to see her properly in the light. “I don’t normally like people dating my sister, because she’s my best friend and I have very high standards for who I’d accept as her girlfriend since she deserves only the best…” you started.

Ona looked at you, and you didn’t know it, but her stomach sank just then. Her muscles tensed as she looked at you, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly with worry that she was trying to suppress. She knew how much Lucy loved you, her little sister, so being accepted by you came above all. She had an inkling that was all about to come crashing down.

“…But you’re different. If I want anyone to date my sister, it’s you.”

The brunette’s expression completely shifted from nervousness to surprise. Her mouth fell agape slightly, and it was near impossible to combat her smile. A warm and fuzzy feeling is what she’d call the emotion blooming in her heart.

In a shy voice, you spoke once more, convincing yourself that you’ll manage as you asked her your question.

“Would you, maybe.. want to come watch my next fight?”

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 3 days

Text

Good Luck, Babe! (1)- Arms Out Like An Angel

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 1- 3.9k- Mature Rating

A/N- This fic will include mature themes such as smut, descriptions of internalised homophobia, drinking, mentions of unhappy marriages and more. Please consider these warnings before reading.

For clarification, Wanda and Reader are both 18 in this fic and the legal drinking age is 18.

---

Hiding a yawn behind your hand, your face expressed your boredom as Professor Harkness rambled on about the context of the novel you were covering in class, her hands moving emphatically in the air as she tried to get her never ending point across, much to your dismay. A sigh of annoyance left you when Steve raised his hand to ask a question, your gaze burning a hole into the back of his head as the teacher started to talk about another useless point, Natasha next to you chuckling at your irritation as you leaned back in your uncomfortable seat, tilting your head to her to show her your lack of interest.

"There's only ten more minutes," she whispered, trying to reassure you as your fingers impatiently drummed against the desk, the redhead amused at the way your shoulders slumped in defeat, eyes trained on the clock at every torturous second that passed by.

"More like ten years," you muttered in annoyance as you let your gaze wander across the various heads in front of you, naturally landing on the brunette's across the class from you. It was like a strange, gravitational pull as your bored eyes searched for her, observing how Wanda smiled politely at Miss Harkness, your heart unable to stop the gentle flutter the sight of her caused. Her fingers toyed with a stray strand of her hair as she intently listened, all of her attention devoted to the woman at the front of the room whilst yours remained on her, a smile threatening to lift the edges of your lips at the way her fingers soon started to spin the rings on her fingers, something she told you confidently she didn't do. You tampered down the smile as you let your thoughts drift away from the Literature lesson you were in, letting them wander towards Wanda to help the time pass, memories of your secret times together consuming your mind.

The shrill sound of a bell knocks you out of your daydreams, your eyes flickering across the room as you move to copy everyone else in packing your books up, Natasha shaking her head playfully at you and chuckling as you frantically try to catch up.

"Come on, I want to go for a smoke," she muttered as she waited for you, your stuff haphazardly shoved into your backpack as you followed her out of the classroom, your eyes briefly meeting Wanda's as she smiled at you shyly, not trying to be too obvious as you walked past her, ignoring the way warmth and affection flooded through you at the small interaction.

"I'll meet you outside, I need to grab a book from my locker," you tell Nat who doesn't wait another second for you, walking towards the exit as you make your way through the crowded hallways, barging past one or two people who were being annoyingly slow.

Eventually, you managed to get to your assigned locker, smiling to yourself at the sight of the small note shoved through the small gaps in it, your head turning to check for people before opening the crumpled paper, recognising the delicate handwriting.

Usual spot at 7? x

Folding the note up as soon as you read it, you pushed it into your pockets before grabbing your book, an excitement bubbling inside you at the idea of meeting Wanda later, an onrush of warmth flowing through you as the enticing green fill your mind, your heart skipping a beat every time you imagine that soft and gentle smile.

You tried to push down the love that enveloped your chest when thinking of Wanda but it was inevitable, you had fallen hard for her. You had to remind yourself of how the two of you were actually 'nothing', words the brunette had repeatedly said to you but you knew that couldn't be the truth, the longing look in both your eyes, the delicate moments you shared together couldn't just mean nothing. Maybe you were just just a fool in love, you weren't sure, but all you knew was that you didn't care when you were with her, the secret moments together were enough for you at the moment.

Her laughter caught your attention across the hall, your head naturally turning, lips tugging into a smile at the sound as your eyes met her enchanting green. The room was filled with others but all you could see was her, a silent conversation passing between you as you shrugged your backpack over your arm, your body already moving towards her when the sight of a tall blonde caused you to pause in your tracks, her attention switching to Vision, one of the most popular boys who clearly had a crush on her. You turned your gaze away at the sight of them, a small crack forming in your heart at the wide and bright grin that took over her face when he kissed her cheek, a small bubble of hurt building at the pit of your stomach as you brushed past more students, making your way to the exit without looking back at her, a weight tugging on your heart.

***

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you waited nonchalantly for the brunette to turn up, your back resting against your truck that was parked behind the small store you worked at, gaze trained on the small bird that had landed on a nearby branch, it's small movements of great interest to you, your mind finding something else but the excitement of meeting Wanda to focus on. Exhaling a puff of smoke once you heard approaching footsteps, you couldn't help but smirk teasingly as you lolled your head to the side, features softening at the sight of her as she shook her head at you playfully, tutting at your actions.

"How many times do I have to tell you they're bad for you?" Her voice gentle and soft yet teasing, an infectious smile gracing her lips as she grinned up at you, leaning against your car as her fingers plucked the cigarette from your mouth.

"At least once more," you mutter as you always did, watching in amusement as she takes a brief drag of your cig before dropping it on the floor, crushing it into the ground with her shoe as her gaze expresses her disapproval of the habit before she steps closer, your arm naturally moving to rest over her shoulders. "You owe me a packet at this rate, Maximoff," you mumble playfully, looking around on the floor at the many remains of cigarettes she'd stolen from you, a soft and angelic chuckle escaping her as she leans into your body, her enchanting green focussed on the small bird from earlier.

"You should be thanking me," she teases as she tilts her head to rest on your shoulder, peering up into your eyes in that intoxicating manner, your gaze softening as you admire her natural beauty, hints of scarlet tinting her cheeks at your adoring look. "I'm saving your life," she murmurs, a hum leaving you as you turn your head away from her, not wanting to kiss her here as you knew it wasn't appropriate.

"More like killing my bank account," your tone is laced with sarcasm as you feel her hand slide into your pocket, taking the packet out of it and into hers so you couldn't use them, your head shaking at her as she thought she was being sly and sneaky.

"Mhmm, whatever," she whispers, purposely letting her accent seep into her words as she murmurs them near your ear, knowing the effect her voice had on you, a low sigh leaving you as you turn your head back to her, noticing the look in them. "Can we go to the Lake?" she asks in a hopeful voice, her green pleading you to say yes, knowing you had a massive soft spot in giving her what she wanted, one of her hands snaking under your jacket affectionately to help persuade you.

Your smile swiftly fades into a mischievous smirk at her words, knowing that most of the time when she'd ask to go to the lake it was for privacy, the serene and peaceful area completely isolated and perfect for the two of you to have some sinful moments.

"Of course," you rasp out, lowering your own voice in revenge for her earlier teasing actions, her teeth biting down on her lower lip seductively as she looks up at you, a genuine smile breaking out on her face at the enamoured look in your eyes before your gaze drifts lower to her lips, her hand slipping out of your jacket as she tilts her head up, letting her lips ghost near yours.

"Come on then, I want to watch the sunset," she whispers out, tauntingly pulling her lips away at the last moment, your body craving to press your lips to hers right now, to have her moaning into your mouth as you pushed her up against your car but you knew it wasn't the place, a small laugh leaving you at the way she enthusiastically makes her way into the passenger's seat. You shake your head whilst looking up at the sky in amazement at how wrapped around her finger you were, the sound of her pressing your horn making you laugh once more before jumping in, ready to take her to your secret spot.

***

Once the two of you arrived at the lake, you swiftly prepared your truck for the two of you to spend the rest of the evening in, the back seats being pushed down and the boot opened as you placed the blankets and pillows down, the sight before you mesmerising.

The body of water stretched a vast distance as the wind caused gentle ripples across the reflective surface, the trees surrounding the car giving you the privacy you both wanted whilst the canvas of the sky gradually grew more iridescent. The scenic view of the sunset, the symphony of colours painting the evening sky, reminded you of the woman next to you as she shuffled her way over to you on your makeshift bed, her body as close as possible to yours as you sat and watched the sun slowly descend. The vibrant colours were powerful, passionate and overwhelming, just like the emotions Wanda evoked from you but the tranquil beauty of it was reminiscent of your time with her, the two of you always sharing peaceful and soft moments just like this one.

Your comparison to her and the natural phenomenon were cut short as her hand slid across your abdomen, the delicate pressure of her hand against you drawing your gaze from the sky to her eyes that you'd argue were more alluring, the shades of green hypnotising. You noticed an expectant look in her eyes before she rested her head against your shoulder, her body cuddling closer to yours as she shared a tender embrace, your fingers reaching down to interlock with hers, letting her play with yours as she knew it was a habit of hers.

"Hm?" your tone questioning as you realised she had asked you something, the pads of her fingers tracing over the lines on your palms before moving to the back of your hand, feeling every small ridge of your knuckles and the light protrusion of your vein to keep her hands busy, the brunette always fidgeting with them.

"I asked what you were thinking about?" she whispers, keeping the tranquil atmosphere that had wrapped around the two of you, the intimacy that was brewing between you both as you relaxed against one another.

"Just how beautiful you are," you say, tone laced with charm and flattery as you offer her a playful smile, leaning your body further into hers light heartedly, your words causing her to grow shy, an accompanying blush creeping onto her face.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she huffs out, aware of the warmth in her cheeks and the heat going straight to her core at the way your eyes flicker between her shy stare and mouth, the way your pupils dilate as she subconsciously wets her lips.

"Is that so?" you murmur out, smiling at the way she moves her body to lay down in your truck, her hand fisted in your jacket as she pulls you down on top of her, peering up at you with want in her eyes, legs spreading a little to welcome your body. Bracing yourself above her, you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear softly, knee sliding between her legs and pressing against her core causing a soft moan to escape her, the sound setting your body a light, arousal clouding your mind. "Even if I tell you how enchanting your eyes are? How your lips are just so... irresistible?"

Her fingers thread through your hair as she pulls you closer to her, your lips brushing over hers, smiling against her lips at the timid expression etched on her face, the obvious blush painting her cheeks.

Before you can say anymore, she tilts her head up to kiss you, the world around you fading away as you focused on the intoxicating feels of her body pressed against yours, the way her back arches, pressing her chest further against yours, legs wrapping around your middle to pull you closer as she gasps into the kiss at the way her hips grind against your knee.

Passion is poured into the kiss as you groan into her mouth at how her fingers tighten their grip in your hair, one of your hands moving to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss as you slide your tongue into her mouth, dominating the kiss effortlessly as she gives you control. As soon as one of you part from the kiss, lips lingering open against one another, the other crashes them back together, addicted to one another as she moans into your mouth, the noise eagerly being swallowed by you as lust takes over, desire consuming you both.

"Fuck," she groans sinfully, accent adding a rasp to her words as you throb around nothing, when you bite her lower lips softly, tongue soothing over the dull pain before you steal another passionate kiss before letting your mouth trail along her jaw, encouraging her to loll her head back so you could pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

"Do you have any idea of how truly beautiful you are?" you whisper, honesty and love lacing your words as you peer up into her darkened eyes, one of your hands moving to the hem of her shirt, slowly creeping under it as your fingers drift across the soft skin of her stomach, feeling the warmth her body radiated.

Your words strike a cord in Wanda as the sheer adoration dripping from your voice, the enamoured look in your eyes is too much, the emotion on show overwhelming as love wraps around her heart, the action suffocating as her mind fights what she wants to what she must have, her thoughts tangling together. She loved the way you made her feel, she loved the way your words sent a shiver down her spine, sent warmth pooling between her thighs but she hated how it was you who made her feel this way. She couldn't feel this way, not towards you. She wanted, no, wants you to make her feel this way but she shouldn't. How could she want something like this? It wasn't right... It wasn't how things were meant to go, this wasn't her.

She let out a shaky breath in response to your low voice, your lips stilling against her throat at the way her body language shifted, concern immediately filling you as you pulled back, hand sliding out from under her shirt to not make her uncomfortable as she avoided your gaze, trying to unravel her messy thoughts. This was supposed to be casual. Nothing more.

"Hey," you coo in a delicate voice, trying to get her attention as she blinks back the few tears threatening to spill in her eyes, the sight of her causing something to stir in your gut, a saddened expression taking over your face as you attempt to comfort her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood anymore," she mumbles, wiping her eyes and moving to sit upright as you sit next to her, confused as to what you did wrong to upset her, a small pang of guilt washing through you.

"Hey," you softly coo once more, gaining her attention as her gaze meets your tender one, "You never have to apologise for wanting to stop, you don't owe me anything." Your gaze expresses how serious your words were, never wanting her to feel pressured, a small smile tugging at her lips at how caring you were, another wave of confusion crashing through her at the butterflies that swarmed her stomach when you kissed her forehead comfortingly. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you had to," you whisper, trying to hide the pain in your voice as you watched her get comfortable next to you, her head leaning on your shoulder despite as her mind screaming at her to get as far away as possible, her heart's craving for you overpowering her. "I'm sorry if I upset you," you murmur, offering your hand out in case she wanted to fiddle with it, your gaze locked on the spectacle happening around you, the sight almost meaningless as you waited for her to relax against you.

"It wasn't you, I promise," she whispers, easing the worry swarming through you, her hand naturally reaching down to interlock with yours, the comfort you provided helping her relax as she tried to push down the variety of emotions gnawing away at her, not ready to confront them. "It's just me I-" she cuts herself off with a defeated sigh, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand soothingly as you let her talk, having a small idea of what she might be referring to. "Can we talk about something else? I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles, her free hand reaching down to pull the blanket over you both as you settle on watching the sunset, your arm moving to rest over her shoulders so she could sink further into your body.

"Is it a bad time to offer you a cig?" you whisper playfully, trying to change the conversation as she had asked, a small huff leaving her as she lightly slaps your arm, a disapproving and berating look in her eyes as she looks at you, a smile taking over your lips as the anxious expression from earlier is replaced, a smile stretching across her lips when she realises what you're doing. "I'll take that as a no," you grumble, dramatically rubbing the spot she lightly tapped making her roll her eyes at your theatrical actions, "Can I at least have my packet back you stole?"

"What packet?" she innocently murmurs out as she avoids your gaze, knowing you'd see straight through her lie, the despondent feeling dissipating into joy as you tease her, your head leaning against the top of hers.

"This one," your tone is cocky as you had slipped the packet out of her pockets, her lips tugging up into a shy smile as she had been caught, a chuckle leaving you at her reaction. "So you're a thief and a liar," you say tauntingly, tossing the packet to the side so you could hold her hand again, the feeling of her fingers playing with yours making your heart flutter, warmth stirring in your chest as you glanced at her.

"I'm not a liar," she says defiantly, various shades of blazing orange and red reflecting in her mesmerising green as you smirk mischievously, knowing how to catch her out.

"I don't play with my rings when I'm bored," you mimic, purposely using a higher pitch voice as you repeat her words from another secret meeting, a giggle leaving her at your poor attempt at her voice. Her hand raises to cover her mouth at the adorable noise, her nose scrunching in the way you loved, a genuine laugh leaving her as she rolls her eyes at you once more.

"Were you staring at me in class again?" she teases back, turning around in your arms so that she is looking at you, her eyes exploring your features as she takes in your beauty, the casual smirk planted on your lips making her own lips curl up into a smile.

"I wasn't staring, I was admiring," you counter, earning another chuckle, "But that's not what we're talking about. I saw you-" Her finger places itself against your lips to silence you, her teeth on show as she grins at you, knowing you were right but not wanting to admit it.

"Why don't we sit in silence?" she teases, your eyes rolling this time as she places a soft kiss to your cheek before sitting next to you again, curling up against you as she seeks the warmth your body always provided, wanting to simply be with you.

A comfortable silence takes over you two as you watch the sky darken, no words needed to understand each other as a gentle touch was enough, the vibrant hues of red and oranges bleeding into pinks and purples before fading into deep blues and greys, the subtle transformation elegant as you savour the moment together, part of you hoping the sun would never have to set as you wanted to stay there with her forever.

Only once the two of you could see stars shining bright and the moon illuminating the sky did you decide to leave, the hours spent together thoroughly enjoyed as you reluctantly took her home, wanting your time together to never end.

Despite the late hour, the two of you were still wide awake, the empty country roads causing you to have the radio on full volume, your gaze inevitably drifting to your side at the sight of the brunette singing along to whatever song was blaring out of your speakers. Her enchanting stare caught yours as she tilted her head to the beat of the music, joy, youth and affection engraved on both of your faces as you listened to her sing, the memory slowly engraving its way into your mind as she unbuckled her seatbelt, her finger pressing the button to open your sunroof.

"Be careful, Maximoff," you shouted over the music, her body standing in your car as her body fit through the gap, your arm wrapping around her thigh to keep her steady whilst her arms stretched out the car like an angel as you sped through the tunnel, adrenaline and excitement coursing through you both as you simply enjoyed being young and carefree.

Her laughter and singing filled your ears as she sang her heart out in the empty tunnel, the sound of the engine, music and her angelic voice echoing around you as you smiled to yourself, unable to stop the love you felt.

You knew in that moment that any doubts you had about calling it off swiftly left your mind, any worries about her never wanting to call it love unimportant as the overwhelming sense of happiness that wrapped around you in that moment was worth everything.

Being with her was worth anything.

#wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #friends to lovers #lesbian #internalized homophobia #good luck babe #secret affair #secret love #wlw

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fluoresensitive · 2 days

Text

it's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

I’ve been on Tumblr for a really, really, really long time. I joined back in 2012, when I was thirteen years old. Like pretty much every thirteen-year-old who finds themselves on Tumblr, I was closeted and depressed and lonely. I was so isolated from my peers due to my autism that I had been taken out of school and was being homeschooled. Other than church activities, Tumblr was my only way of looking out into a scary, “secular” world that I was shielded from.

It was bliss! The first blog I ever had was an Alan Rickman themed blog because I was obsessed with Alan Rickman. I liked reading about feminism from the massive amounts of feminist blogs there used to be, I liked seeing older Black people discuss racism, I liked knowing there was a place where it was okay to question my gender and sexuality and my upbringing.

It rocked my world! I got into fandom spaces, I got into writing fanfiction and roleplaying. Some of my best memories are me auditioning for Harry Potter Marauder Era roleplay groups. And then discovering independent roleplaying, creating my own characters or roleplaying as my favorites with no group behind me. People who remember me from way, way, way back will know I used to roleplay as Hannibal Lecter, as Gustavo Fring, as my most successful and important OC I’ve created Agatha Garcia, a baking witch with a sad story. Even writing this now I’m beaming because despite the traumas of being in these kinda icky spaces. Tumblr was an escape, it was magical.

Of course, there were not-so-great moments. In 2014, I was angry about anti-Blackness and my God was Tumblr’s fandom spaces anti-Black. You couldn’t discuss real life issues without being accused of being a reverse racist, you couldn’t discuss the realities of being Black in America (especially, after Mike Brown’s death) without being shouted down about keeping the peace. I was not a peaceful teenager. I was angry, I was awake, and I was not going to take anything laying down. Because of my less than serene posting, I got callout posts, I got a reputation for being mean and a bully and aggressive. I took it as a badge of honor—of course these racist motherfuckers think I’m a bully! I leaned into it, I got angrier, but eventually, around 2016, I broke from the roleplay community, and drifted off into a world of my own.

First it was called musespiration, then blvckmuseum, a way for me to sit at the periphery of the roleplay community without interacting with it directly. I reblogged pictures of Black people that I hoped would be inspirational and inspire them to keep creating their awesome original characters. Late 2016, I switched to vaantablack—one of my greatest eras, I think at least. I started making moodboards and posting little bits of my writing. I got into “trouble”, again, for being aggressive about anti-Blackness but this time I was surrounded by Black tumblr users, people who were more than happy to stand behind me. It didn’t matter how many ugly asks I got, there were people who liked me! Who thought I was smart and creative and funny. People who stood by me when my family went homeless in 2017, who celebrated with me when we were housed in 2018. I remember watching Beychella with all of Black tumblr, all of us screaming about the iconness the moment. I remember when Black Panther came out and we lost our collective minds. Ugh, what a time!

Around that time, I changed my URL from vaantablack to the now very recognizable fluoresensitive that is my brand, I guess? I changed my aesthetic (still sticking to my eerie changeling vibes) and started to knuckle down with posting my short stories. I built a thing for myself, made a community of (dwindling) Black tumblr users. More and more of us were being ran off the site—some accused falsely of being Russian bots, some driven away by the Klan-esque hordes of white (and non-Black) users who did not want us there. People I ki’d with, iconic trans women like Silver and Rashida, huge blogs like lagirl and hundondestiny and so on, were disappearing. No one wanted to deal with cruelty outside and on the computer.

I stuck it out. Call it loneliness, call it bailing out a sinking shit; I stayed on Tumblr. I liked sharing, I liked having a place where people listened to me and trusted me and thought what I said I had value. I thought I was, in my small way, changing the world.

Even if I haven’t exactly shaken the roots of the blogging world, I hope I’ve touched people. I hope you think about my vaantablack or fluoresensitive, and you smile. I hope when you find me on bookshelves, you can share an anecdote about something I’ve said or posted. I hope I’ve helped you see the humanity in Blackness, the beauty of being nonbinary, the joy of lesbianism. I hope I gave you good recommendations for movies and books, I hope you enjoyed the horror-posting. And more than anything, to Black tumblr, I hope you remember me.

This is my final text post. I’ll be clearing out my likes slowly and answering a last few questions, but as of Friday the 21st, this’ll be an archive. I’ll miss you all.

If you want to follow my career and adventures, you can find me on Instagram, my professional Twitter, my Patreon, or my Substack. Long time friends/mutuals, please ask for my phone and email, I never want to lose contact with you!

(And, of course, if you want to make this Juneteenth goodbye especially sweet, here are my money links. Very overjoyed to never have to beg for help after this again, but thank God for everyone who gave to me throughout the years. I swear you’ve kept my family from living on the streets!)

paypal.me/marsinaries venmo.com/fluoresensitive

#🦢#i wept writing this god i'm gonna miss this place but it's hell for my psyche and i no longer need it

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azrielstaylorsversion · 3 days

Text

Scars to match mine

Azriel x reader | angst

Warnings: torture, burns

When Y/N is captured by the Autumn Court they try to torture information out of her. But what better way to torture someone than with fire?

I woke up with a pounding headache. The world around me was dark. I tried to gather my thoughts, remembering where I was.

The last thing I remembered was being outside in the Autumn Court. Gathering information on their movements. Then I was attacked. It all came back to me now.

I groaned, trying to sit up. My arms and legs hurt, like I had been thrown in here. I managed to get to my feet, in need of finding a way out.

I tried reaching out to my mate, but like I expected, there was no sign of the bond.

That was a good thing, I reminded myself. This would mean Azriel would know something was wrong. He knew about my whereabouts. He would come looking for me. I just had to be patient.

I slumbed back against the cold wet wall of the cell I was currently in. It wasn't big. There was nothing but stone in here, along with a strong steel door leading to god knows where.

A sigh escaped my lips, trying to ignore the pain in my body.

I couldn't wait to get home to Azriel, to just get this over with. Rhys would probably give me a lecture about being stupid, even though he never meant it. This time it had really been my fault. I knew I was getting to close, the possibility of being attacked very high.

The door to my cell unlocked, thrown open, revealing one of the sons of the Autumn Court.

I didn't move an inch, keeping my eyes on him and the two guards behind him at all times.

"Good. You're awake." he exclaimed rather happily.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I just kept staring ahead.

He moved his head to the guards. "Haul her up." he ordered them. They did as they were told.

A small flash of panic went through my body, but I pushed it down.

Their hands were harsh against my body, certainly trying their best to leave bruises. I stood out of free will, but they still kept their strong hold on my body.

"So, you care to explain your plans?" the Autumn son asked.

I stared at him, keeping my mouth shut. He would be a fool if he thought I was going to answer his question. I've been through worse things than torture. This was nothing compared to that.

"Well, if you aren't going to talk I unfortunately have to hurt you." he said with a smile. "But I will try it without that one more time."

He opened his hand, a small ball of fire forming inside of it. I did my best to hide the flicker of fear flashing through me.

Knives, whips, beatings. I could take all of that. But fire.. Fire was one of the worst kinds of torture. Especially with what happened to my mate.

"Tell me why Rhysand send you. What are you doing here?" he tried again.

I let out a small laugh which sounded more like a huff. "You really are dumb." I said to him. He looked offended.

Good.

"I would rather die or be tortured for years then tell you anything about the Night Court." I told him.

His smile disappeared at that. "I kind of wished you would've just answered the question right away. Now I need to ruin your pretty body." he said, his lips tilting upward again.

The ball of fire in his hands grew. A sickening feeling filled my body.

"I think you would like some matching scars with your mate, won't you?" he told me happily.

This time I didn't hide my fear. I thrashed against the hands that held my body, but they were to strong. I couldn't move.

I tried to move my hands away, but one of the guards held them up. There was no way in moving them.

In panic I tried to reach for the bond, only to remember it wasn't there.

Yet I kept screaming Azriel's name in my head, hoping for a small way through the blockage.

He now held the fire dangerously close to my hands. The warmth was terrible.

"One last chance."

"No." I said firmly, preparing myself for the pain to come.

He moved my hands into the ball of fire. Excruciating pain filled my body. Worse than ever.

I cried out, not even trying to hide my pain.

The male was laughing as I kept screaming, begging him to stop.

Everything after happened so fast. I couldn't remember if it had been a few seconds or minutes.

Flashes of blue crossed my vision along with the red of blood.

I fell to the ground, curling up to myself, trying to somehow push my hands away. To get rid of the terrible pain that lingered.

Everything was blurred. But one thing I knew, was that the hands that picked me up were familiar. The voice talking me through my pain was familiair. It was nice.

I could vaguely remember flying. The next vague memory I had was of entering a house, voices yelling and people gathering around me.

I remember telling someone I felt so much pain. I also remember that someone telling me I was going to be okay. That he loved me so much and he wouldn't leave my side.

It was only when someone started touching my hands that I lost consciousness.

The thing I do remember is waking up. My eyes flickered open slowly to find the sun setting outside.

I looked around in confusion. I was in my room. In my bed. Mine and Azriel's.

A warm hand was placed on my arm. I turned my head to find my mate smiling at me. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked gently.

I nod, a bit unsure, still having to process most of it.

His hands cupped my face. "I'm so sorry about what happened. And I'm so glad you're okay."

I smiled at him, lifting a hand to touch his face... only to find it wrapped in a thick bandage. Both my hands.

Realization flashed through me, along with panic and a bit of pain.

Azriel immediately reached for me. "Hey, don't panic. It's okay. I'm here." he told me, staying perfectly calm.

"I-.." I couldn't find my words. "I can't feel anything." I decided on.

Azriel gave me a sad smile. "Madja gave you something strong against the pain. That's the reason you don't feel your hands." he said. "Hopefully.." he added quietly. He didn't need to explain what he meant by that.

Azriel's warm smile had disappeared from his face, sadness having taken over.

"Is it bad?" I questioned quietly.

"Yes. It will hopefully heal with time, but the scarring will stay. It will probably look something like my hands." he explained to me softly.

I always thought Azriel's scars were beautiful. But I never thought I would have to live with them myself. This felt different.

"I will not love you differently because of your scars." he told me, his hand on my cheek. He must've felt my negative thoughts.

"He told me we would have matching scars." I said, not even sure why I was telling him this.

Azriel's body stiffened. He shifted a few seconds later, the bed dipping slightly from his weight. He wrapped his strong arms around me carefully, tugging me into his chest. I gladly let him as I kept staring at the wall in front of me.

"Do not think differently about yourself. I know how hard it is, I've been there. I will help you through it, like you have helped me through it."

I snapped my attention back to Azriel, my eyes locking with his. I nodded, knowing and feeling he meant every word.

I buried my face in his chest, trying not to cry.

He held me tightly, his hands moving up and down my body while whispering sweet words in to my ears which eventually lulled me back to sleep again.

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader

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reidrum · 17 hours

Text

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid headcanon #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 3 days

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When they misunderstand and kiss your cheek - svt 97z

💋Who; Seventeen 97z (individually) x reader 💋What; lil fluff reactions 💋Wordcount; 1.9k 💋Warnings; Very minor profanity.

Read the other versions here; 95z - 96z - Maknae3

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- That's it! The last of the series! Ah, these were cute and fun to write, even if I wasn't always in the right headspace to write lil fluff pieces, I still enjoyed the process. Thank you to everyone who showed love to these, I appreciate every one of you 💖

💋Seokmin💋 For as long as you can remember, you've always wanted to go to a photo booth with someone important to you and take some fun and cute photos to get printed on a little strip and treasure them. You don't know why exactly you want to do it so much, nor why you've never done so before when the booths are pretty common, it's just never happened. And if there's anyone you know will do it with you without question, it's Lee Seokmin. So one day you send him a mood board with a few photosets on it and tell him you want to do that with him. As suspected, Seokmin doesn't even ask a question besides "when?" A few days later, the pair of you are excitedly rushing through the shopping centre to the booth he promises you has the best filter options as if he's some kind of photo booth expert. Though he does turn out to be correct, at least as far as you're aware because there are some really cute filter options which you're excited to try. It goes exactly how you expect for a while, the two of you grinning pressed together on the bench and making funny faces and dramatic poses for the camera. Clearly, Seokmin had really paid attention to the photosets you sent him because he's leading you into some of the poses you can recall. You don't remember them all because honestly, you hadn't paid that much attention to the specific photos and just the general vibe. So you really hadn't noticed that most of the sets you sent him included some kind of cute cheek kiss photo. Therefore, Seokmin really can't be blamed for thinking you want that particular pose seeing as it featured so much. A pose you hadn't even noticed. Unbeknownst to you, Seokmin has been working himself up to this the entire time, the whole morning really. It feels like a big move, to kiss your cheek even if he's most certainly kissed most of the guys' cheeks many times. But this feels pretty fucking monumental, honestly.

You're just about to ask him if he wants to add a filter when he starts to lean in after taking a quick inhale to steady his nerves, the clicker in his right hand ready. The photo he happens to take is frankly, hilarious. He hadn't expected you to turn to talk to him right then and you certainly had not expected him to kiss you so what he winds up capturing when he presses the clicker is both of you wide-eyed and lips touching. "Uh," Seokmin starts when he gathers himself and leans back rapidly, cheeks flaming red in a way that matches yours. "I didn't know you were turning." "I didn't know you were…leaning in?" You look genuinely bewildered. "What exactly were you doing?" "Kissing your cheek?" His statement curves up into a question as your expression only grows more puzzled by his words. "Like-like the photos!" "What?" "The photosets all have a cheek kiss photo!" "They do?" He nods rapidly. "Oh, I didn't even notice." He deflates a little, well a lot really, you can see the way his embarrassment rapidly turns to disappointment. "You didn't want me to kiss your cheek?" "Well, I mean, I'm not opposed if you want to." You shrug lightly, trying to play it off as you slide your gaze aside to look at the screen shyly, though you immediately start to laugh at the large photo of you two staring in shock at each other with your lips brushing. "What?" Seokmin looks at the screen and starts to laugh. "We have to print that one." He giggles. "Our first kiss." "First?" "Uh-" He looks at you with wide eyes in alarm, he really had not meant to say that. "It's not even a real kiss." You point out then reach out to gently tug him closer by the collar of his t-shirt. "How about a real kiss this time?" "Seriously?" You nod and then can't help but giggle when he enthusiastically cups your neck with his free hand to lean in quickly. "Don't laugh." He whines. You vaguely register the sound of the booth taking photos. He's looking at you adoringly despite his whine, not that you know that yet, but you will when you have the proof in your hand when Seokmin insists on printing all of the photos you've taken. "You're so eager, it's cute." "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, sweetheart, of course, I'm eager. don't you want to kiss me?" He pouts and you're not entirely convinced it's entirely an act. "Come here, idiot." You tug him in the remaining gap to press your lips to his. Seokmin doesn't forget to press the clicker to capture your first real kiss, though he does very quickly drop it to hold your face and put all of his focus into kissing you breathless.

💋Mingyu💋 A brand Mingyu has an advertisement deal with has sent him a package of their newest products and of course, he shares them with you as you have different skin types and the brand always sends him one of everything to try. So you're both sat on the floor in his living room, headbands on to keep your hair out of your faces and the collection on the coffee table in front of you with two little mirrors. A few minutes ago, he handed you the moisturiser that is apparently designed for your skin type, though you think something has gone very wrong with their formula as it has not dried well at all. Your skin feels all sticky and tacky to the touch, it's pretty gross and you certainly won't be using that again. Mingyu looks over when you mumble his name, his own skin shining with the drying moisturiser he has just finished diligently applying. And he finds you pouting while pressing your cheek slowly. To him, it looks like you want something and all he can think is that you want a kiss on the cheek. Although his stomach is fluttering with nerves at the sudden suggestion, he still shuffles a little closer so that he can lean over and press a kiss to the apple of your cheek. However, when he pulls back, he feels the tackiness on his lips and pulls a slightly disgusted expression while settling back into place and grabbing the packet of face wipes the company supplied. "You're sticky." He comments, tone as impressed as his face shows, which means, not at all. You stare at him for a second then nod slowly. "Yes, I am aware, that's what I was trying to tell you." Mingyu blinks at you dumbly, one hand raised to his mouth as he wipes the sticky residue from his lips. He lowers his hand a little to talk. "Not to kiss your cheek?" "Not to kiss my cheek." Immediately, Mingyu's cheeks flush with embarrassment and he directs his attention back to the mirror to wipe at his lips a little harder around a kind of muffled "oh, sorry." "It's okay," You mumble and hold your hand out. He glances at it and almost takes it into his own, momentarily assuming you want to hold hands but then he puts the packet of wipes on your palm and blushes darker. "I didn't mind." You assure softly as you turn to your own mirror and work on wiping away the product on your skin. "Oh." Mingyu tries not to grin dopily at what is essentially permission to kiss you again. As soon as you're done cleaning your skin, his lips find your cheek again, this time followed by a cute little shy giggle before he hands you a different product to try.

💋Minghao💋 Lately, when you both have a spare few hours, you and Minghao have been watching a fantasy drama full of cute romantic tension between the two main leads. Neither of you had realised just how romance-focused the show is when you started and at first thought it might be a bit weird to watch so many kissing and suggestive scenes together, but it's not been as bad as either of you assumed. In fact, you both find yourselves playfully mimicking the actors quite a lot, it helps to remove the tension that builds otherwise. A tension that has been growing thicker and more obvious over the past months between the pair of you, both of you are aware of it but aren't sure if making a move is wise. You both value your current relationship and ease far too much to want to risk it. Though it comes to a head one afternoon when you're both sat on his couch tucked up under the same blanket with your snacks and the AC on because it's not cold at all, the blanket just feels too cosy and you're used to sharing it from this routine starting in winter. Of all the scenes to cause something to happen between you, it's a very cute one, with no suggestive remarks, and no tension on screen. The main female lead skips up to the main male lead and silently asks for a kiss by cutely pouting and turning her cheek towards him. Of course, he kisses her cheek and that's that, they share an adoring smile and go about their business. Without even thinking about it, you copy her action, pouting and tilting your cheek, just because you think it's a cute action and are used to copying the actors at this point. You really hadn't expected Minghao to be paying you any attention and to follow along. But then his lips are on your cheek and you freeze momentarily. "I think you do it cuter." He informs smoothly as he leans back and gently turns you to face him with his long fingers pressed tenderly against your jaw. Your eyes lock and despite there having been so many chances before now, so many moments full of pure tension, this is the moment that changes everything. "Can we stop pretending that we're going to be able to be friends for the rest of our lives?" "We're not going to be friends?" You reply quietly, heart thumping and certain you know what this means but you don't want to skip any scenes of your own love story. "I still want to be friends, yes, I care about you too much and love being friends with you to not be friends. But I want to be more," "Best friends?" You can't help but tease. Minghao's face drops for a second into his trademark unimpressed expression but he quickly breaks and chuckles. "Best friends and romantic partners sounds perfect to me. What do you say?" "I say it's about time." "Then can I kiss you somewhere else this time?" "Xu Minghao!" You gasp scandalised in the most theatric of ways. "We've just started our relationship and you're already trying to get me in bed, what would-" He cuts you off by leaning in and slotting his lips against yours. You giggle happily and tilt into the kiss. "Are you going to be this dramatic our whole relationship?" He hums when the short kiss breaks, brushing his nose against yours with a fond smile on his lips. "I am. Regret this yet?" "I can never regret you." And to prove his point, he kisses you again with all the months of pent-up affection spilling out to seep through your parted lips and down into your chest, filling it entirely as your own affection fills his in return.

A/N- I think I have ruined myself with the Hao one, why did I make it so soft and sweet omg

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minniesmutt · 2 days

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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: OT8 X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: THIS IS A LOT DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE SO PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND BEFORE PROCEEDING: TEASING, NIPPLE PLAY, PRAISE/DEGRADING, FINGERING, ORAL (F. & M. REC), DEEP THROATING, FACE FUCKING, BEGGING, PET NAMES (BABY, BEAUTIFUL, DOLL, DARLING, PRETTY, SWEETIE, BUBS) SOFT DOM!CHAN, SUB!READER, REST OF SKZ ARE MEAN!DOMS, PERV SKZ, ROLEPLAY(INTRUDERS & VICTIMS), FEAR PLAY, CNC/DUBCON, ROUGH SEX, CREAMPIES, UNPROTECTED SEX (VAGINAL + ANAL; WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP), MULTIPLE ROUNDS, SPANKING, CHOKING, DACRYPHILLIA, SADOMASOCHISM, GAGS, EXHIBITIONISM, DP +TP , TOYS, MANHANDLING, SPIT ROAST, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP(S), AFTERCARE; CODE FOR SCENE BC EVEN I GOT CONFUSED WRITING; LEE KNOW, CHANGBIN, HYUNJIN, HAN, FELIX,SEUNGMIN, IN ☾ ━━━ WC: 5.3K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

It was a nice anniversary. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city and work. Chan had found a cabin for rent in the woods and took the weekend off for just him and Y/n. It was perfect, to say the least. Y/n had made sure to pack enough food for the weekend so they could cook and not worry about having to go into town.

Even though it was only two nights fully at the cabin, both were sure to make it count. Who knows when the next time they’ll get three consecutive days in a row together?

Friday night Chan drove them up to the cabin after a lunch date. It wasn’t a super long drive so they didn’t have to leave early in the morning. Only maybe a couple of hours. So they made a lunch stop before getting groceries for the weekend and then driving up. Chan letting her play car DJ on his phone. Stealing a kiss at stoplights. Giggles the whole way up and deep into the woods.

Chan made sure to drive slowly on the uneven road as the got further into the woods, away from society. His hand was on her thigh until they got to the cabin. Then it was the hassle of unloading the car. Bringing in the food from the car, Y/n took to unpacking it as Chan brought in their bags and set them in the bedroom and set up all the electronics. Mainly just the TV. Nothing in the 21st century was completely off-grid anymore. Even with being so far from civilization, there was still some internet to let them at least watch Netflix. Chan set the remote on the coffee table once he was done with the TV and walked into the kitchen as Y/n was finishing up putting away the groceries. He smiled and grabbed her waist, pulling her into him to pepper kisses all over her.

“Chan!” Y/n giggled as she tried pushing him away— not trying to though. She loved the affection from him.

“Get you all to myself for three days,” Chan said between kisses, pulling her closer to him

He ended his kiss assault by pushing his lips onto her. Y/n smiled against his lips as she grabbed his shoulders. Chan walked her back up against the counter, pulling away from her lips long enough to help her up onto the counter before attacking her neck with kisses

“We’ve got three days Channie.” Y/n moaned as his hands slipped under her shirt.

“Three days just to fuck you, baby,” Chan growled against her neck.

Y/n felt her body heat up as he chuckled at her reaction. He brought his hands down and grabbed her thighs, pulling her off the counter. Y/n grabbed onto his shoulders and stared at him as he walked into the living room.

“Think we can fuck all over the cabin in three days?” He asked as laid her back on the couch.

“Remember when we had the dorm to ourselves for a weekend?” She asked as he tossed his shirt off

“Hm, what was it, everywhere twice?”

“Some places three times.”

Chan leaned back down and smashed his lips onto hers. He pushed her shirt up over her chest. Hands roaming each other’s bodies. Y/n worked her way down his abs to his jeans. She was unbuttoning the material, pushing it down enough to be able to palm him over his boxers. Chan moaned into her mouth, grinding against her hand.

Y/n slipped her tongue into his mouth. Exploring and wrapping around his own before he pushed back. He pushes her bra up to join her shirt above her breasts. Rough hands kneaded her breast and finger pads played with her nipples.

Chan detached his lips first and moved down to her chest. Kissing all along her skin before wrapping his plumps around one of her nipples. His hands moved down from her tits to push her pants down past her hips. Y/n lifted her hips to help him a bit, he pushed her pants down to her mid-thigh. His fingers moved quickly between her legs, rubbing her clit over the fabric of her panties as he switched nipples.

Y/n laced her fingers in his hair, grinding against his fingers. His rough tongue pressed against her nipples before he detached and moved his lips down her stomach, leaving love bites in his wake. He pulled up just before the waistband of her lace panties, just for a bit to get the fabric of her pants and the lace off of her.

Tossing them to join his shirts. He laid down on his stomach and brought her legs up over his shoulders. Y/n took a moment to toss her shirt off as he kissed her folds gently. A calm before the storm.

Chan licked up between her folds before diving in head first. Kissing her clit and slowly licking. His nose brushed her clit when he moved down. “My perfect baby,” Chan groaned into her. Y/n smiled as she laced her fingers into his hair. If Chan looked up at her, she was sure he would see heart eyes.

Chan started his pace slow, gradually speeding up till he lapped her up like a starved man. Moans were very quick to fill the living room. Chan wrapped his lips around her clit while two fingers worked inside her. Slowly starting to push in a third. Pads rubbed against her gummy walls while thrusting in and out of her. Her hands gripped his roots while his free hand wound its way up to her breasts.

“More channie,” Y/n whined right before he slipped his third finger in.

“That enough for you baby?” Chan asked as he looked up at her

“Mm. Want your cock,” Y/n begged

Chan hummed as he went back down, sucking harder on her clit. His fingers picked up their pace inside her. Y/n arched towards the ceiling as he built her orgasm up. The knot tightened fast. The harder he sucked and the faster he went, the harder it got to control her moans or have any self-control.

Soon enough the knot snapped in her stomach. Cumming on his fingers before he pulled them out and licked her clean. He brought his now free hand up to her mouth. Y/n opened her mouth for him to slip his fingers into her mouth to lick his fingers clean of her juices. Moaning into her as he felt her tongue wrap around his fingers.

He pulled away from her cunt as he was positive she was all clean. Pulling his fingers out of her mouth, laying her legs on the sofa. He stood for a moment to discard his pants and boxers. Y/n sat up to take off her bra. Chan stopped her mid pulling his boxers down to stop her and unhook her bra for her.

Y/n smiled up at him as he pulled the fabric off her body. Then she saw his erection standing right up. She giggled before bringing him into her mouth. The surprise was nice on his end for sure. Y/n fixed her position to sit on her knees before she started sucking him off. Chan stood straight as he looked down at her. Her hands planted on his thighs, her eyes flickered up at him as she sank further down on him.

“Fuck baby,” Chan groaned as he grabbed the back of her head.

Y/n moaned around him as she swallowed him. Chan let out a loud whiny moan just before she pulled back before her nose hit his abdomen. One hand moved to hold the base of his cock before she started quickly bobbing her head, never taking him fully into her throat, just deep enough to tease him. Both knew full well she could take all of him into her throat.

Until she did. Swallowing him till he was all the way inside, his hand gripping the back of her head to hold her still before pulling her off. A string of saliva connected her to him as she looked up at him with slightly glossy eyes, sucking in deep quick breaths.

“Need to cum inside you baby.” Chan pushed her back down onto the couch, grabbing her legs and putting them around his waist.

“What if I want your cum in my throat?” Y/n asked as he lined himself up at her hole

“Later beautiful.” Chan pushed into her, watching her head fall back onto the couch.

“Fuck,” Y/n whined just before he started his pace. After the quick surprise blowjob, he needed to cum. He picked a fast pace as he started. Grabbing onto her hips to get better leverage.

“Never gonna get over how good you fucking feel,” Chan groaned. His cock fucking deep into her.

Y/n rolled her hips slightly against him as he fucked into her. Every word he muttered under his breath or whined was how good she felt and just how lucky he was to have an amazing girlfriend like her. If she wasn’t already hot from foreplay and getting dicked down, she’d be blushing. Right now, her mind was only thinking about his tip just grazing that spot.

“Deeper Channie, please baby. Wanna cum on your cock,” She whined.

Chan didn’t hesitate to throw her legs over his shoulders again and lean forward. Hands planted next to her head after intertwining their fingers together. The first thrust in the new position hit the spot dead on. She didn’t know how Chan was able to find the spot every time but she thanked every higher power out there for his rare skill of finding the g-spot.

He resumed his previous pace, not daring to change it as her walls clamped down around him. “Pretty, gonna cum for me again?” Chan huffed

Y/n nodded as a certain thrust had her walls and the knot in her stomach tightening. She knew Chan wasn’t faring much better with the way his dick was twitching inside of her. One of his hands left hers and came down between their bodies. Thumb pressing against her clit and rubbing quick circles, working her closer to her next orgasm.

Y/n gripped his hand tighter, curses falling from both their mouths as they got closer. Chan was the first to break. He thrusted in and out as quickly as he could before she came moments later. She shook under him as he slowed down to a stop, enjoying the feeling of her wrapped around him a little longer.

After a few moments, Chan pulled out before leaning down and softly kissing her lips.

“All good baby?” he asked pulling away and kissing her cheeks

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded, moving her arms to wrap around his neck, “You wanna make dinner tonight?”

“You want me to make dinner tonight,” Chan smiled at her

“Saving my energy for when you decide to blow my back out later.”

“I’ll do it right now.”

Chan placed his lips back onto hers. Y/n tangled her hands in his hair as she giggled against his lips. “Wanna move to the bedroom?” Y/n mumbled against his lips.

“Mhm,” Chan pulled away before getting up and pulling her up for a moment. He moved the throw pillows and the blanket off the couch then pulled something underneath the cushions out and it turned into a bed. Chan sat back on the mattress sofa and pulled her onto his lap, giving her a proud smile. “There we go.”

“You’re such a dork.” Y/n giggled as she straddled his lap and cupped his face.

“Your dork,” Chan laughed

Pulling each other in for another kiss. Chan laid back, pulling her down with him. Hands grabbing her hips, grinding her against his semi. Moaning into the other's mouth before Chan pushed his tongue into her mouth.

Y/n snaked a hand behind her, grabbed his dick, and pumped him, pulling away from his lips. Chan tilted his head back as she pumped him back to full length. Y/n positioned him at her entrance and slowly sank down.

Chan lifted his head and grabbed her hips, helping her swallow him again. “Slowly baby,” Chan said

Y/n planted her hands on his chest, stabilizing herself. Once he was fully in her, slowly she started rolling her hips against his. Chan kept his hands on her but he didn't help her. Simply letting her grind against him.

He moved his hands towards her ass, gripping the flesh in his hands. Y/n smiled down at him as she switched from bringing to bouncing in him. “Shit,” Chan groaned, gripping her ass tighter.

Both stopped when they heard something on the back porch. Both turned towards the door. It was pretty dark outside by now, the couple having gotten to the cabin around sundown.

Chan sat up wrapping his arms around her waist. “Maybe it's just an animal,” he said, kissing her collarbone.

“Can you check?” Y/n asked, looking down at him.

“Yeah,” Chan answered.

Y/n got off his lap and sat on the mattress, pulling the throw blanket off the ground and covering herself as Chan slipped his boxers on before heading to the back door.

Y/n waited anxiously for him to come back, telling her it was just a possum or something. Gripping the blanket she kept her eyes trained towards the back of the house. Barely noticing the figure behind her in the mask. Until his gloved hands grabbed her throat and covered her mouth.

Her eyes went wide as she reached up to grab the perpetrator's arms to pray them off her. Thrashing in the grip which subsequently made the blank fall off her bare body.

“Quit squirming,” the voice behind her pulled her roughly into his firm chest.

Y/n shook her head as she tried to pry herself away. The hand on her neck moved to grab her wrists, holding them down. He pushed her forward onto the mattress, his body lying on top of hers.

Both her arms were grabbed by a third party and pulled behind her back while the first man held her head down onto the mattress till he was done.

She was pulled back up by her hair and got a glimpse at the black and white mask with the elongated mouth. “Be good and stay right here for us kitten.”

The masked man dropped her back on the mattress before she heard a chair hit the floor. She lifted her head to Chan being tied to one of the dining table chairs, tape over his mouth forbidding him to talk. Her eyes watered as he made eye contact with her.

Y/n looked up at the intruder tying her boyfriend up. He had a bigger build than her boyfriend and was slightly shorter than him as well. Same mask as the first one. Build alone she could guess it was easy to overpower Chan.

“Awe,” a new voice said behind her, slightly deeper than the first man. Was it the one who tied her up or another one? There were either three or four additional people inside the cabin, “Poor things got cum dripping out of her.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she felt the mattress dip down behind her. Two fingers ran up from her clit to her entrance. This person was also wearing leather gloves as well. Y/n bit her lip and closed her eyes, squeezing water past her waterline as two of his gloved fingers pushed her boyfriend’s cum back into her. Thrusting in and out slowly.

“Watching your girlfriend get fingered by someone else is turning you on, huh?” the man next to her boyfriend asked. Y/n opened her eyes and saw Chan was indeed hard under his boxers. The man chuckled and pulled the waistband of his boxers down below his balls. Chan groaned as the cool air hit his sensitive cock as the man walked away, towards her.

She clamped down around the man fingering her, which made him laugh. She was trying to shrink back away from the man walking towards her but there weren’t many options at this point. “Think she likes being used in front of her boyfriend.”

The man who tied her boyfriend up crotched down in front of her, “Wanna help your boyfriend?” He asked

Y/n sniffled and nodded her head. “Words, doll.”

“Y-yes,” Y/n stated as best she could

“Wanna get out of this situation?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled under his mask before standing up. The fingers pulled out of her before she was sat up on her knees. Finally getting a better look around the room. Six people surrounded the room, including the two near her.

“Look what I found.” a voice came from down the hall. Everyone in the room turned to the seventh person who walked in holding a remote and a dildo.

Y/n’s face flushed before the seventh person got on the bed behind her. The man in front of her grabbed her face, “Open up.” She could hear his smile

Y/n kept her mouth closed, shaking her head. The man behind her yanked her head back and hovered over her, “You want this to end well?”

“Ye… yes,” She whined

“Be a good whore and open your mouth.”

He tugged on her hair for good measure. Y/n opened her mouth and a second later the toy was shoved in her throat. Y/n gagged around it as he fucked her throat with it. The other six gathered around the sofa, leaving some space for Chan to watch, and pulled out their cocks. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw them all slowly pumping them as drool dripped out the sides of her mouth.

“Bet you’re upset you stopped her from sucking your cock earlier Channie,” The first man said mockingly over his shoulder.

“Stuff her already,” A new voice said.

The toy was pulled from her mouth. Y/n doubled over coughing, trying to catch her breath. Which just gave the man behind her the right position to push the toy into her pussy. She did a weird cough moan before she was forced to sit straight and a cock shoved down her throat. She moaned as her eyes went wide as the man started fucking her throat while the others continued pumping their cocks over her.

“Shit,” the man groaned as he thrusted in and out of her throat.

The one who found the toy was behind her messing with the remote. Turning it on which made her moan around the cock in her mouth. The fake cock thumped up and down inside her as she started to get passed around on their cocks. Each of them pulled her off another. Each using her and their hands to get closer to their orgasm. Coming to the point they took turns shoving their cocks down her throat to cum till she was positive her drool had been replaced by their cum.

She wasn’t fairing too well on the toy either. The more they all used her mouth as a cum dump with the little thing fucking her, she got wetter and the knot in her stomach built.

“Look, barely done anything to her and she’s already fucked out.” The seven laughed as they pushed her onto her back spreading her legs.

“Wan’ cum,” She mumbled out.

“Think you deserve to cum?” the deepest of the voices asked

“Not on the toy.”

The toy was pulled out of her making her whine as her hole clenched around nothing.

“Poor thing.”

One of the taller two sat back on the sofa the more built of the group lifted her and made her straddle him.

“Come here darling,” The man cooed as he lined his cock up with her sensitive entrance. Slowly she sank onto him, making her moan. He wasn’t as big as Chan but there was some competition length-wise, “That’s it. Take my cock.”

His hands grabbed her hips to hold her steady on top of him. ”Channie,” Y/n moaned which earned her a slap on the ass.

“Channie isn’t fucking you anymore doll.”

“Think she needs another cock in her to get it through her head.”

She was pulled forward onto the tall one’s chest and she felt wet leather at her tight rim. Y/n shook her head as she felt him breach her ass. The man below started thrusting up into her while the one behind her fingered her ass open. She could tell his fingers were thick without the gloves but with them, it was a whole other thing.

The man below her had wrapped his arms around his body and kept her pinned down to him. Soon she felt a second finger enter her as well, making her scream a “fuck”. Scissoring her ass open as the man below her slowed down as he felt her clenching.

“Get it in already. He’s probably fucked her ass before.”

Chan definitely had fucked her ass before. Neither could deny it.

Chan kept his eyes trained on his girlfriend. Angry cock laying against his stomach and leaking precum all over his abs. Beyond turned on at watching his girlfriend get gangbanged.

The man stationed behind her pulled his fingers out and grabbing his cock. Pumping himself before pushing into her. Below had stopped thrusting to let him inside as she screamed into his shoulder. The man behind her had her boyfriend beat in girth.

Once everyone was adjusted, the two men were thrusting in and out like made men. She was never but filled. one going in as the other was pulling out.

Behind her grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up a bit so the room could hear her. No coherent words were coming out of her at this point. Far too fucked put to even think about anything as she clenched around both men as the knot in her stomach tightened.

One particular thrust from the man in her ass had her body going limp as she came on the other one’s cock. Body shaking as they used her holes till they came inside. Filling her up then pulling out. Y/n fell onto the mattress as their cum seeped out of her.

The comfort didn’t last long as she was pulled up and placed on someone else's lap. Dick pushed cum back into her ass as he breached. She whined leaning forward as his hands held her waist. “Forget how to ride a cock?” he asked before smacking her ass

“Learn how to fuck her maybe.” the second voice said as he pushed her back and slid his dick into her soaked cunt. The second man spread her legs apart before both started thrusting into her. Whines leaving her mouth and small little “fucks” with them. Any tears that had been threatening to spill had started streaming down her face once the second pair started their attack.

It was the same as the first pair. Taking turns thrusting in and out of her. Another orgasm building up in her sensitive body. She subconsciously squeezed around them, head falling back before the intruder on top of her grabbed her neck. Y/n sucked in a quick breath of air as her once-drooping eyes went wide.

“Don’t leave us yet baby.” He laughed

“Still got three cocks to make cum inside your whore holes.”

Both men came inside her, mixing with the first two and Chan’s from earlier. Pulling her off and tossing her to the side. Two more sets of hands grabbed her, this time letting her lay on her side still. One of her shaky legs was pulled into the air as their dicks slid into her cum filled holes.

“Shit. She’s fucking full.” The man in front of her groaned

“Think she can fit three more loads?” the man behind her chuckled as they both started thrusting in and out of her.

“‘o more,” Y/n groaned

“Awe she’s begging for it.”

Y/n shook her head before the man behind her wrapped his longer fingers around her throat.

“You can take a few more. You’re gripping us like you want it.”

“Make some room,” the deepest voice said.

The two moved the position so she was straddling the intruder that had his cock in her cunt. She was easy to move with how numb her limbs were.

“Think you’re pretty thing can fit three cocks in her?”

It was obvious the man was talking with her boyfriend but she still managed to hear the last bit of the sentence before she tried talking them out of it.

“Maybe she needs one in her mouth too.”

“Get in there.”

The first man that fucked her pulled her head up and forced himself into her throat again. She screamed around as she felt another tip prodding at her filled holes. Almost like he was trying to decide which one he wanted to stretch. Ultimately he started joining the man in her eyes.

She cried around the man fucking her face again as the men below got situated.

“Shit thought she was full before,” the man above her huffed.

Slowly the three started moving. It was a painful but pleasurable feeling once she got used to it. She wasn’t going to admit it— not like she could when she had a dick in her throat and she was severely cock drunk.

Her body felt light. No real control of anything else, cum dripping out of her as the four fucked her. Moving as best they could inside of her. Everyone twitching inside her as her orgasm suddenly shook her entire body.

“Fuck” the man below groaned before he came inside her cunt.

He stilled inside her as the two in her ass weren’t far behind him or each other. The first man came and then pulled out, some of his cum spurting out onto her ass and lower back as the second followed. Coming in time with the man in her throat.

The four took a moment before pulling out and off her.

“Fuck,” Jisung groaned again as he threw his ghost face mask off, sweating a bit. Minho, Seungmin, and Changbin had already taken theirs off along with their gloves once they finished. Hyunjin had put his back on to get his dick sucked one last time before the scene ended.

Changbin had untied Chan when the last five were mid fucking. The oldest snuck off to take care of his erection once the scene ended while the other three quietly got all necessary aftercare items ready.

The coffee table was covered with sports drinks and water and discarded gloves and ghost face masks.

Felix untied her wrist from behind her back as Seungmin came back with a warm wet towel.

“You with us babe?” Jisung asked as he brushed her hair out of her face

Y/n hummed as she lay against his chest. God, she was exhausted.

It was very rare Y/n took all her boyfriend’s cocks at once. Threesomes and foursomes were more common in their relationship.

“Can you look at me, babe?” Jisung asked as he slowly turned the to onto her side. Y/n looked at her boyfriend with her sleepy eyes, “Hi sweetie,” He smiled

“Hi ji,” Y/n said

“Can Seungmin clean you up?” He asked

“Tired,” She groaned

“I know baby. But we gotta make sure you’re okay babe.”

“Quick and gentle bubs. Promise.” Seungmin said as he squatted down in front of her.

“‘Kay,” she said as she laid her head against Jisung’s chest. Seungmin talked her through what he was doing so he didn’t catch her off-guard

“I grabbed her favorite sweater of mine and blanket from the dorms two before we left,” Jeongin said as he came back in from the outside.

“I’ll start cooking dinner. Yongbok, come help me.”

Once Seungmin finished cleaning her up, Jisung sat them up.

“Hyunjin helped me with the sofa,” Changbin said

Everyone had taken their own little tasks in the aftercare session. Y/n tried to pay attention, mainly so she could stay awake but she was so out of it. Jisung picked her up so the two could fix the sofa.

“Shower,” Y/n groaned

“Channie’s in the shower right now baby. You wanna join him?” Changbin asked “Yeah…”

Han passed her off to Changbin as the other producer grabbed the maknae’s hoodie for her before walking her to the bathroom. He gave a knock on the door to alert the man in there.

“Baby wants a shower with you Chan,” Changbin said as he opened the door.

“Okay,” Chan said as he opened the shower curtain. Changbin passed her off to him and then set the hoodie on the counter for her next to Chan’s close.

“I’ll bring in some bottoms for her. Minho and Yongbok are making dinner, and the rest of us are fixing the living room. Seungmin did most of the clean up but she still wanted a shower.”

“Alright. We’ll be out soon,” Chan replied as Changbin walked out of the bathroom. “Feeling okay baby?” Chan asked. He turned the water down a bit before pulling her under the water with him.

“Feel like jelly.” Y/n leaned her wait into him as he helped her clean up.

“Can you tell me who’s all here with us?”

Y/n listed off the rest of their partners as he washed her up. He asked her a few more questions to make sure she was out of her subspace if she got into it. He was usually good at reading her expressions during sex when she dropped into it but he couldn’t see her face much during the scene so he didn’t wanna take chances.

He turned the water off, got the two of them out of the shower, and dried off. He got her dressed before he put his clothes on picking her up and bringing her back into the living room to relax and talk with the rest of the group.

“Feeling okay pretty?” Hyunjin asked

“Yeah. Thank you guys for trying the scene.”

“Of course baby.” Chan sat back on the sofa next to the other two producers

“We weren’t too rough with you?” Changbin asked

“No. I liked how rough you guys were. Plus we talked about it before. Wasn’t anything we didn’t talk about that I didn’t like.” The warm shower woke her up and recharged her a bit so she was able to form sentences again.

“How’d you like being excluded old man,” Seungmin joked at Chan.

Chan shrugged, “I got a round and a half in.”

“Is it too soon to ask to do this again?” Y/n asked

“Not for a while kitten. You just took eight dicks.” Minho called from the kitchen

“I didn’t mean right now! But, I like when I get to have kinky sex with all eight of my boyfriends at once.”

“We’ll record next time so you can enjoy it any time,” Jisung said

“That actually sounds like a good idea.”

“You’re gonna give her a new kink, again, Jisung,” Minho yelled as he came around the corner, baring a spatula

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It becomes all of our problems.”

“Is that an issue?”

“No, but I don’t need random videos sent to me throughout the day of one of us fucking her. Yongbok already got her into the lingerie photos.”

“I have no regrets,” Felix yelled from the kitchen

“None of us do,” Seungmin laughed

The room seemingly erupted into chaos after everyone fucked their brains out. But what was new?

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LISTTIP JAR

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Text

Sundays at the Library | Part Two

Part One

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Despite Spencer's best efforts to keep you his Sunday solace, you become all he can think about.

Warnings] Gruesome descriptions of typical CM gore, references to sex, Spencer's POV, insecure/anxious reader, poetry excerpts, like 3k of Spencer pining over reader (sorry not sorry), tech stuff I know nothing about

Word Count] 14.1k

Author's Note] These are links to the poetry from this part: "Your laughter", "The Insect", "And because love battles". Though I use important excerpts, I would highly recommend reading these because I reference them throughout. Sorry to make you do homework but I promise it's cute bc Spencer is falling in love through poetryyyy.

Spencer spent four days in Seattle, but he would be lying if he said that was the only reason he didn’t get to finish all ten of his library books by Sunday.

He read one book last Sunday evening while sipping tea on his couch and then he read two of them a day from Monday to Wednesday in between his work hours. Early Thursday morning Penelope rallied the troops to the conference room to explain that they were going to Seattle because four women had been found butchered. No case was easy exactly, but this one was especially hard. The women were found in horrific states, cannibalism was suspected, and Spencer was in charge of doing the geographic profile. The problem was the unsub was very criminally sophisticated and it seemed like he had no comfort zone, so Spencer was struggling. To top it all off, one of the victims' mothers had broken down wailing in the police station, right in front of Spencer’s map, begging for someone to find her daughter's killer. . . and the rest of her remains.

Spencer had nothing he could say to the poor mother. JJ ended up trying to comfort her, old instincts from her liaison days kicking in. He went back to his hotel room that night and cried. It’d been a while since he cried on a case, a few months or so, but it happened every so often with bad ones, mostly children. So he let himself cry on the loveseat in the corner for a few minutes before taking a shower, putting on some soft PJs, and crawling under the covers of his double bed. For a while he stared into the ceiling picturing the map, the circles he drew, and the pins he placed on it. Half the pins marked an abduction site and the other half signified where a body was found. If he concentrated too hard, he could see the bodies in the morgue: their blue lips, sheet like skin, the carved out flesh.

Most people would assume there was no downside to an eidetic memory, but Spencer knew there was. He could remember every horrendous, gruesome detail of a crime scene, a victim's injuries, an unsub’s taunts. It all haunted him, swimming around in his vision and fogging his brain when he wanted peace. Reading helped because it kept his brain busy and his head clear. When he couldn’t take the horror anymore, Spencer leaned over the side of the bed to his go-bag on the floor.

Inside was a couple outfits, sleepwear, his usual toiletries, and a few of his library books. He wasn’t sure how much time he would have, so he brought all three of his unread ones. When Spencer unzipped the bag, he remembered he brought four borrowed books. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda sat atop the rest of his clothes and books. It must have floated to the top as Spencer rooted through the bag for his comfiest pajamas. He hesitated to bring it up onto the bed, thumbing the curling corners, but eventually took it into his lap.

Spencer wanted to read the book as soon as he got home from the library. He actually almost blew a stop sign he was in such a rush, which Spencer never did because he was a very careful driver. Some—Derek—would call him too careful, but there wasn’t such a thing as too careful. However because he was so reckless and excited, Spencer couldn’t bring himself to read the book. It was too distracting, too enticing—he couldn’t allow himself the pleasure of it because it would consume him. Already you were nagging his thoughts, distracting him from his day, his job, and he had to curb it somehow. He certainly couldn’t feed into it by reading the book you gave him. So, he decided he would wait until Saturday to read it so you would continue to just be his solace on Sundays.

But Spencer wanted a distraction, he needed one really, and he wanted it to be you. He opened the book and immediately smiled as he was met with your handwritten notes in pink pen ink. He couldn’t explain why the loops and lines were so you, but they were, and it only made it easier for him to hear them in your gentle whisper.

Spencer read 20,000 words per minute, but he read close to three per minute as he combed through the poems and your little comments and analyses. He savored them as much as he could, because he could only read them for the first time once and never again would they be so fresh and sweet. Every other line his heart would flutter and his breath would pause as he searched between the stanzas and in the margins for your own reactions.

Pablo Neruda wrote some powerful political poetry in support of the Communist Party in Chile, but it was only a sliver of the book's poems. The rest of the pages consisted of beautiful and heartbreaking romance poems. As he read them, he thought of you. Because you’d given him the book, of course, and it was your thoughts scrawled out on the page right alongside Neruda’s. In his drowsy head, the words merged, printed black and scribbled pink swirling, and suddenly the woman Neruda was talking about was you. You were the woman he longed to forget, but would forever plague him. You were the woman made for his arms, his kisses, his soul. Your body was the journey his hands itched to make.

But Spencer couldn’t think that of you. When his eyes would glaze and your image would appear on paper, he blinked quickly and rubbed his eyes raw. It was wrong to think of you like that because you were an acquaintance—a friend at best. He had no right, even if you’d given him the book. He thought then about why you’d given him the book. Sure, it was because he reached his check out limit and could always read more, but why had you given him this book? It was clearly a favorite by how worn and full of notes it was, but the notes were your deepest thoughts on love. Obviously he would consider you as he read them.

He tried not to though, he really did, until he came across “Your Laughter.” Upon its title alone your giggle echoed in his ears and he leaned closer to the lamp light to read it unobstructed.

“My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life.”

Perhaps he had imagined those other women Neruda wrote about as you, but this was you. Your laughter gave him life, comfort, and he was starting to think he couldn’t be without it. Every stanza solidified it in his mind that he loved your laugh, that he would take it over bread or air, because in the dim library it stole him away from the world and relieved his burdens, if just for a moment. He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning with the page open on his chest.

—

On Friday morning Spencer woke with you on his mind, and that couldn’t happen. He had to banish you from his head, lock your memory away in a deep, dark vault just to get his work done, because every time he saw a flower, or a book, or even heard a laugh, he was thinking of a line from The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and you were that poetry. He had to stuff the book at the bottom of his go bag and swear off it until the case was finished—and he did. He redirected his entire focus back to his map, pins, and circles.

But every night when he went back to the hotel, depressed and exhausted, he sought the book out and found comfort in your words. He fell asleep to them and dreamt your thoughts, then woke up in the morning to you clouding his mind and he had to lock you away again to stay focused.

He was successfully able to rid you from his thoughts at work until Sunday when he woke up antsy at the idea you were in a different state. He tried again to concentrate solely on the case, but when his watch rolled over to 11 he got stuck staring at it, thinking about what you were doing on the other side of the country. It was already 2pm in Virginia due to the different time zones. He wondered what you were thinking. Did you stand at the desk, perched over it for the best view of the front doors? Were you also sad when the hour hand crept slowly passed 11 on the grand clock above the door and he did not walk in? Maybe you didn’t care and the day continued as normal. Or maybe you were only upset he was not promptly returning your book. He thought if only he solved the case faster he wouldn’t have to wonder.

He shook his head, shaking you away, then focused back on the map. Not more than 20 minutes later he solved it thanks to a call from Garcia about a fifth missing woman fitting the victimology. When he added a pin to her abduction site, he found the pattern, the comfort zone, and the unsub. He gathered up the map to present his findings to Hotch, to show him where he knew the secondary location had to be, and just like that the police station was bustling with a new vigor.

They wrapped up the case late Sunday evening. They put away a monster and were able to give that grieving mother and three others closure on what happened to their daughters. That night, a woman went home to her family and Spencer returned to his hotel room, gathered his belongings, and rushed to the jet. He’d never been more ready to get back to Virginia because as exhausted and relieved as he was, he was also sad. He shouldn’t have been, but he was, because 11am came and went in a police station and not in the library ten minutes from his apartment. You’d called him so reliable and he missed it. He should have warned you about his unpredictable hours, he realized, but now he was just anxious to explain himself. He didn’t want to be the unreliable man leaving a trail of disappointment and broken promises, it was so much like his father the thought made him shiver.

He was so quick to the jet he beat Hotch and JJ, who were always prompt to get back to their kids. She eyed him as he bounced on his heels, checking his watch. It was nearly 9:30pm which meant they would arrive in the early morning anyway. He would return to his apartment and sleep, hopefully for a while, because the library wouldn’t be open for hours. But Spencer bounced with anxiety because he was late and he hated being late. All he did was think and he was overthinking. He hoped you weren’t.

“Spence?” He realized JJ’s eyes were on him. She had her usual concerned expression, knitted brows and tilted head. “You okay?”

He nodded because he was okay, technically. There was nothing really wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, and by now Hotch was watching their exchange. “Are you sure? You look a little. . . stressed.”

She wouldn’t give it up then. “No, I just sort of had plans today I missed. I had to return some library books and I don’t like to be late,” he explained, hoping it would soothe her worries. It wasn’t a lie. . . maybe a bit of a half truth, but his weekends were meant to be his and he wasn’t obligated to talk at length about his personal life.

JJ scoffed, checking her phone as she relaxed, calmed by his explanation. Hotch’s eyes swept back across the street, waiting for the others to arrive. “Well, you know better than to make plans. I missed date night with Will again.”

“That sucks,” Spencer hummed absentmindedly, eyes also watching down the road for the rest of the team.

It was approximately seven minutes later when their SUV pulled up and the six of them boarded the jet. The team took their usual seats, mostly in silence as Hotch did paperwork, Morgan listened to music, and the rest of the team tried to get some sleep. Spencer took the familiar couch at the back of the jet, but he didn’t curl up to sleep just yet. Instead he opened his go bag to the book he had packed away right at the top to ensure he brought it. A smile spread across his face unbeknownst to him as he took it into his hands. He brought his legs up onto the seat and leaned with his arm on the armrest and his head tucked into his elbow as he got comfortable. Unfortunately, he was used to folding himself up on the small couch, long limbs and all, but it was a good enough position to read in.

Spencer picked up where he left off reading slowly again, tasting the words as he mouthed them to himself alone. Every so often his silent recitation was interrupted by a quiet chuckle or a snort, because not only was your commentary deep but it was witty. Your takes on Neruda’s physical interest in love was so intriguingly sardonic he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Spencer found one particular poem, “The Insect,” sensual until he spotted your jokes scrawled along the bottom near the page number.

“From your hips down to your feet I want to make a long journey. I am smaller than an insect. Over these hills I pass, hills the colour of oats, crossed with faint tracks that only I know, scorched centimetres, pale perspectives."

In your hasty, sloppy handwriting you responded:

“He better be adept at licking between those hills if he is smaller than an insect”

Spencer cracked a wide grin, stifling his laugh in his collar. Your humor, tucked between the pages of an unassuming book, was uninhibited by your meekness. He couldn’t help but think you would never say such a crude thing aloud, or maybe you would, and he only needed to know you longer to hear it from your lips. Neruda’s next stanza was even more lewd.

“Now here is a mountain. I shall never leave this. What a giant growth of moss! And a crater, a rose of moist fire!”

He followed a loopy arrow from the section of lines to your reply.

“Crater??? I suppose my razor bumps must be the stinging rocks that tearing out the moss uncovered”

Spencer snorted, wondering if you remembered writing those quips when you generously handed him the book. They weren’t abundant, most of your responses were scholarly thoughts or opinions on love, but he could see your mood ebb and flow throughout the poems, crossed out thoughts and new additions from when you reread and re-examine with fresh eyes and new ideas. When he got to the end of the poem, he could see how your tone had shifted.

“Sliding down to your feet I reach the eight slits of your pointed, slow, peninsular toes, and from them I fall down to the white emptiness of the sheet, seeking blindly and hungrily the form of your fiery crucible!”

Another arrow from the last word guided him to the next page where he assumed you added more thoughts after going back over the poem again.

“Neruda is only a man, so his metaphors of the body have to be expected. But his unrestrained desire and dedication is the important subtext. To make the journey long and slow and appreciate it all with unparalleled reverence? A girl might just have time to fall in love.”

Your interpretation of the poetry spoke volumes about your outlook on love. How you searched between the lines for the words unsaid, that between the carnal romance, you found desire and dedication. That was what you valued, as well as “time to fall in love.” The sentiment gave him pause because Spencer had a habit of. . . fixation. Spencer cared fast and deeply, and maybe that was too much for you. He would have to cool off, give you space, even if he was starting to want everyday to be Sunday.

“What’s so funny over here?”

Spencer looked up, tucking the book into his chest, startled by Derek suddenly standing right in front of him. “Nothing. Just. . . reading.”

Derek leaned down his head to see the title, eyebrows rising with a scoff. “The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He shook his head as he continued behind the curtain to the bathroom. “Only you would be laughing at poetry, pretty boy.”

Derek would laugh too if he took a look at your writings, but Spencer didn’t feel like sharing you. He went back to his reading and it took him about an hour to finish the book. The feeling of turning over the last page was hollow. Of course, he could remember every single word, could recite it backwards if he wanted to, he studied it so intently, but the feeling of reading it, of getting inside your head was over. He drifted to sleep with the book tucked into his arm, trying to hold onto that feeling just a little longer.

Rossi shook him awake when they landed. The sun wasn’t up yet and a glance at his watch told him it was only 5:30 in the morning. The team wasn’t expected back until Wednesday, so Spencer only dipped into the office to grab paperwork before he got into his car and drove back home to his apartment. Blasting the radio was the only thing that kept him awake while driving. He didn’t realize it when he first got on the jet, but his body and mind were exhausted. His limbs ached and his head was foggy. Once he got in the door he dropped his bag on the floor and slumped into his bed, drifting back off into deep sleep.

—

From the way the light filtered in through the blinds, the sun was arching high in the sky when Spencer finally woke up again. His eyes were practically crusted shut and his mouth was dry, all the moisture leaking out onto his face and bedspread. He rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up and stretched. The rest did him good. He had more energy, at least, and he didn’t feel like weights were attached to him. He sat there for a minute, just adjusting to the world, then his eyes drifted to his alarm clock. It was 12:43pm.

At once he jumped up from his bed, raiding his closet for a fresh pair of clothes. He didn’t mean to sleep in, he meant to be at the library early to explain himself. All he bothered to put on was a clean button up and slacks before he slipped on his converse and grabbed his keys. He stopped himself at the door when he remembered he was going to the library to return his books, so he swung back around to pick up the basket on his coffee table and grab The Poetry of Pablo Neruda from his go bag.

He jogged down the stairs to his car, breezing past his neighbor Mrs. Cavanaugh who greeted him kindly. Of course, he drove just as carefully as he normally did, using his turn signal, completely stopping at each stop sign, and maintaining the speed limit, all the while his fingers rapped the steering wheel. His parking job in the library lot wasn’t great, though if he was being honest it never really was, but he didn’t hang around long to admire its crookedness as he grabbed his basket and speed walked into the library.

It was comforting to be met with the familiar chill and paper air. A hand thoughtless combed through his hair as he took his time to walk down the rug to the front desk. He realized he didn’t put a comb through his hair before he left which meant it was definitely wild. He would have spent time being embarrassed about it if he looked over the counter and saw you, but he didn’t. In your chair was an elderly woman who squinted through her own glasses as she read a thick book she clutched in her wrinkly hands. She looked up and saw Spencer standing there, an unamused look on her face.

“Checking something in?” She asked in a smoker's voice.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Spencer floundered, surprised you weren’t there. He took your book from the top of the basket and then brought the rest up to the counter. The woman watched him as he pulled the books from the basket, an over plucked eyebrow raised. He had to dig around in his wallet for his library card too, but eventually set it on the counter to avoid the talons at her fingertips. She let out a sigh as she began scanning them.

Spencer tapped his fingers against the countertop, eyes roaming around the library. Was Monday your off day? He never asked. He actually didn’t know much about your personal life besides that you were in graduate school. Maybe you had classes today? He could come in again tomorrow. . . but was that weird? He wouldn’t have any books to check in, so he didn’t have any actual reason for coming in besides seeing you. Would you find that odd? That he sought you out? He didn’t want to wait until next Sunday to talk to you again.

Spencer looked back at the librarian as she cleared her throat. She finished checking in the books and slid back over his library card, but he was still just standing there. “Is there something else you need?” She asked and he whispered your name. “What?”

“I–I mean, is she working today?” Spencer clarified quickly. “The girl who is at this desk on Sundays?”

She blinked at him, leaning back in her chair and picking back up her book, a sharp finger turning the page. “She’s working.”

He nodded, gathering up his library card and basket and briskly walking away from the desk. With no additional clues as to where you were, he went to the second floor and began walking around. You had to be around there somewhere, eventually he would find you. He scanned the shelves as he walked, looking in the sciences for books that interested him, but he was too preoccupied looking over his shoulder for you walking by. Eventually he was fed up waiting for you to walk by and roamed the library just looking for you.

It took going to the fiction section to find you. He rounded the corner of a bookcase and saw you up on a ladder, arm full of books, the other busy nestling them into their places on the shelves. Your hair was done up and you wore a long, patterned skirt, but also a fitted long sleeve shirt. It hugged you like you hugged the books, and Spencer’s eyes trailed the outline of your figure illuminated by a gold halo from the window behind you. In over a week of not seeing you, Spencer didn’t forget a single detail of how you looked, but the feeling he got when he looked at you was new and invigorating.

He saw you in a new light, literally and figuratively. He knew some of your inner thoughts; each poem he read felt like a conversation. Maybe it was one way, but you read the book so many times perhaps it wasn’t. He hoped maybe you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave it to him, as if, in your own shy way, you were saying all those words to him.

A quiet gasp broke his train of thought and suddenly you were looking at him, turned on the ladder to see him at the end of the bookcase. “Spencer?” You looked surprised, caught off guard, and when you tried to scramble down the ladder clinging onto the books and nothing else, you tripped on your skirt and teetered on the foothold.

Spencer was next to you instantly, the basket sliding up his arm as he steadied you with a hand on your waist. You took hold of his other hand, delicate fingers wrapping tight around his palm, and slowly came down off the ladder. He let you go once you were on the floor again, unsure of what to do with his hands warmed by the feel of you.

“Thank you, I was really trying not to twist my ankle falling off that again,” You smiled nervously, embarrassed, and looked down at the books you held against yourself.

“Again?” Spencer asked, brows quirking up, lips twisting into a smile. Not only were you shy, but you were klutzy. He wasn’t sure which made you more endearing.

“Oh yeah. I was laid up for a week after falling off a three foot ladder. Now I don’t reach so far out,” you explained, finally chancing a look up at him and finding his eyes already on you.

“I got shot in the knee once. I was on crutches for five months, two weeks, and five days and I hated pretty much every second of it,” he blurted out, and to his delight you breathed out a quiet laugh.

“Well you’ve got my twisted ankle beat,” You shrugged at him. He chuckled in reply, and slowly the conversation faded away. He had so much to say to you, to explain, but it disappeared from his mouth when he stood in front of you. Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He wondered if you thought about him even half as much as he thought about you. Finally, your voice came out in the softest whisper. “I didn’t know if you were going to come back. . .”

“I was in Seattle,” like a dam burst, at last his words came rushing out. “I travel for work a lot and I’ve been in Seattle since Thursday. I only got back this morning.”

He searched your face for your reaction but your eyes were unreadable. “You just got back from a four day work trip across the country and the first thing you do is go to the library?” He couldn’t tell whether you were weirded out or not. Normally your emotions were all over your face and he read it just like a book, but suddenly you snapped it shut.

“No. Well—yes, kind of. . .” When you only continued to look at him, he felt the need to keep talking. “I had to return the books, y’know? And. . .” He searched your eyes for an indication to stop or keep going, but they were only pools of hope with borders of acetate. “You called me reliable—before, I mean—and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t. I didn’t have any way to contact you either to let you know I wasn’t going to come in so I just. . . came here as soon as I could.”

The meekest of smiles lifted the corners of your lips and Spencer nearly let out a sigh of relief. “I guess it’s silly, but I was a little sad when you didn’t come in. I thought I really messed it up, and that sucked because it gets kind of boring in here without a genius FBI agent to be surprised by,” you shrugged, finger tapping along a hardcover book in your arms. Spencer opened his mouth to reassure you that you didn’t do anything wrong, but you continued. “I think it’d be better for both of us if we had a way to contact each other—so you can warn me of course! When work has you too busy to come in.”

Spencer stood in front of you for a few seconds, processing what you were saying. Then you inclined your brows at him and he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket. “Oh, right. You can just put your number in and I will, uh, text you.”

You struggled to adjust the books in your arms to get a free hand, so Spencer set the basket down and offered his help to take them. “Oh, thank you,” you mumbled, passing the books into his long arms and taking his phone. As you thumbed in the numbers, Spencer turned to the shelves and began putting the books in their rightful places. You furrowed your brows at him, mouth falling open. “Oh, Spencer, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to help.” He gave you a smile over his shoulder and went back to fingering over the spines to find the correct placement.

“Thank you then. Just. . .” Your head craned outside the end of the bookcases, glancing either way before walking back to the trolley that carried the books that needed reshelving. “Don’t let Mrs. Wilson see you. I think she’d actually fire me.”

“Mrs. Wilson?” Spencer questioned, brows creasing. “The woman at the desk today?”

You just gathered another armful of books from the trolley when your head snapped back to Spencer, then glanced between him and then the nearly empty basket on the floor, worried. “Oh my God, she checked your books back in. She didn’t say anything mean to you, did she? Nasty little comments are her specialty.”

Spencer took more books from the cart, his eyes glued to you as you scaled the ladder again. “No. She wasn’t exactly friendly either, but she didn’t say anything mean.” You wiped fake sweat off your brow. “Is she your boss?”

“Kinda, yeah. Technically I’m a library aid, but I do pretty much everything she does as the librarian,” you said, voice dry and tired with annoyance. “Actually I do everything she’s supposed to do besides berate people for late books, that’s her favorite pastime. Most of the day she manages the desk while I do everything else. I only work the desk Sunday because that’s her off day. I’m pretty sure she spends it at church because she’s always telling me I should be going.”

He glanced at you as you talked, continuing to organize the books. It was the most he ever heard you talk, and he was starting to hear the same voice he heard on the margins of The Poetry of Pablo Neruda. “I’m glad I came in on Sunday then,” he said. He likely never would have met you if he didn’t come in on Sunday, what with you rushing around doing all the other day to day library duties. That meant there was a 1/7, or 14% chance of him meeting you at the library the way he did. He didn’t even want to think about how slim the chance of him meeting you was after also factoring in the other libraries in the area he could have visited.

“I’m glad you did too.” You smiled over at him, shelving your last book and carefully heading back down the ladder. “She never would have let you check out all those books at once.”

He quickly placed the remaining book in his hand on the shelf, joining you at the trolley as you divided up the last of the books left. “So, if she’s so mean and awful at her job, why don’t you report her?”

You paused, eyes going distant and your shoulders slighting curling in on yourself. “I could report her to the director I guess, but. . .” You only considered it for a moment before collecting the books and spinning away down the bookcase with a shake of your head. “I don’t see the point. She’s just a grouchy old woman. It’s not like I can’t handle it. I think the reason she hates me so much is because she thinks I’m going to replace her.”

Spencer eyed your body language and shift in tone. It was the confrontation that scared you, he realized. He saw it before with Todd and now with Mrs. Wilson and the director. You didn’t stand up to her or advocate for yourself because of some self conscious doubt or fear of rejection. Sure, Mrs. Wilson might be mean and a bit scary, but that shouldn’t mean you have to deal with her blatant disrespect. He wanted to give you some encouragement, but seeing your reaction to his question—the way you curled in on yourself to protect yourself from the discomfort just considering reporting her gave you—made him not want to push you, so he finished putting the books in the bookcase.

“If you say so. I'm just sorry you don’t get along with your coworker. I feel like my team at the BAU is my family and I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” he confessed. His only real family was his mom, but he felt it wasn’t appropriate to talk about her just yet. Although he did feel like the team was also his family, so it felt right to talk about them.

You hummed, a dreamy look on your face. “That’s nice. It makes sense too, since you all have to trust each other with your lives, don’t you?” You brought your bottom lip between your teeth suddenly, hesitating to look at Spencer. “I um, I looked up what the BAU was the other day because I wanted to know what you did exactly. It just said you created “profiles” of serial killers, but it didn’t mention field work.” You slotted onto a shelf the last book in your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as they became idle, eyes wandering back and forth between him and the floor. “I was just thinking if. . . are you in danger often? You didn’t seem very scared of that guy the other day—obviously he’s not nearly as scary as a serial killer, but you also said you got shot in the knee?”

Spencer held back a smile because you seemed upset, but the fact that you took the time to look up what he did and worried about him made his stomach swirl in a way which was more pleasing than nauseating. “Field work is a part of my job, yes. We profile serial killers and other criminals, but we also help the local police catch them. I’ve had other injuries besides getting shot in the knee, too. So, yes, often it can be a very dangerous job.” It also felt wrong to bring up Tobias Hinkel, the trauma Spencer experienced, and the path it led him down. Maybe at a later time he could bring it up, but now he was more comfortable recounting exactly the amount of times he’d been shot at and every injury he’d gotten on the job from being punched to poisoned. Spencer did none of that though, because your face became sickly and your brows knitted so tight with concern he thought they might merge together. “I’m always okay though! I trust my team and we all keep each other safe. I wear a bulletproof vest to protect my vital organs and I carry a gun, so I’m kind of hard to kill.”

You crossed your arms, nodding as you calmed down from the worry. Spencer wondered if you were also an anxious person, it would make sense since you were so concerned about him and his job. It was a dangerous job, sometimes in the moment Spencer dismissed the probabilities that he could actually die, but it was always possible despite his experience, knowledge, and skills. Unlikely, but possible. “It’s a really good thing your coworkers have your back then,” you joked, but it was weak and Spencer could tell you were still unsettled.

He wanted to calm you down, because there wasn’t anything to be worried about. He was good at his job, safe, and he always ran all the probabilities and took the best course of action. Most importantly, he always had a thorough and accurate profile, which Gideon always said was the deadliest weapon he could have. You didn’t need to worry about him despite the danger. “‘What more can they tell you? I am neither good nor bad but a man, and they will then associate the danger of my life, which you know and which with your passion you shared,’” he recited. Your head tilted as you took in his words, an excitement of realization slowly filling up your face. “‘And good, this danger is danger of love, of complete love for all life, for all lives.’”

“‘And because love battles’, Pablo Neruda,” you named it. Spencer was right when he assumed you read it several times because you had it memorized enough to spot it. “That poem is about fighting for and defending his love despite his past and what others have to say about it—not the danger of having standoffs with murderers.”

“Yes, but I can repurpose it. I do this job despite the danger because I love people. I love helping them, saving them. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. If I don’t catch the murderers, who will?” He explained, trying to show you that this job was just a part of him, however dangerous it was, he could handle it. “I know it can be scary, but trust me when I tell you that I’m good at what I do. There aren't any people out there better at this job than my team. You don’t have to worry.”

You plucked at the ends of your sleeves, thinking on what he told you. The seconds ticked by and he resorted to examining your body language, how your shoulders were even and between them your chest rose and fell at a steady pace. Your face was placid too, until it warped with a playful smile and you stepped closer to him. The breath left his lungs in an exhale. “So. . . you did finish The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He took air in again with a chuckle. Teasing him must have meant you felt reassured. “You must have been distracted being so good at your job that your interpretation was off, because that’s not at all what that quote means.”

Spencer took a step towards you, his long legs almost closing the gap of space between your bodies before you scrambled back a step. “Oh, I know what you think of that poem. I know exactly what you think of all Neruda’s poems, since you spelled it out for me.”

Your hands came back to the front of you, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoided the intensity of his eyes, face warming with embarrassment. “You read all my notes?” How could he not? Surely, you must have known he would.

“Of course I did. I thought it was all very insightful,” he said, and because he couldn’t help himself, he continued. “Especially all your little jokes. What did you have to say about ‘The Insect’? ‘He better be adept at licking—’”

“Spencer!” You squealed, certainly disturbing anyone who was in the surrounding rows of bookcases. Your hands rushed to cover your face. “I didn’t—You weren’t—oh my God!”

Spencer laughed at your suffering, taking sadistic pleasure in it only for a few moments before he gently pulled your hands from your face by your arms. “It’s okay. I thought they were all very funny. You’re very funny.”

It was harder for you to shake off the embarrassment. You carefully removed your wrists from his hands to wring them. “I didn’t think you were even actually going to read it.”

Spencer’s brows twitched into a furrow, puzzled as to why you thought he wouldn’t read the book you gave him. “Why not? I like poetry.”

You shrugged. “I–I don’t know, I just definitely didn’t expect for you to memorize it and everything I said.”

“I have an eidetic memory,” he countered, knowing he would remember everything you ever wrote and said to him. “And some of that stuff is pretty hard to forget anyway.”

You whined, mortified. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize what that means.”

There was a pause between you and Spencer, because you were embarrassed and he wasn’t sure why. Having someone read your private thoughts is vulnerable and flustering, but you gave him the book. You must have known he would agonize over your every word, but your reaction said you didn’t. Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was reading too far into things, his obsessive, addictive personality sending him spiraling down a hole of a relationship he dug all on his own. You didn’t think about him as much as he did you; you didn’t read into the things he did and search for more meaning.

“Do you need more books?”

“Huh?”

He was staring into your face thinking hard, but you snapped him back out of it. “You finished reading all your books right?” You repeated.

“No, I only read seven of them,” he thought aloud.

“What? What happened to Mr. 20,000 words per minute?” The shyness fled you slowly as you turned again to teasing him. It was cute, but it also flustered Spencer, because he definitely couldn’t tell you he didn’t finish his other books because he spent all his time scrutinizing every word both you and Pablo Neruda wrote.

“I–I told you I was in Seattle for four days. I didn’t have time to finish them because I was busy.” It was a lame excuse because he definitely did have enough time, he just spent it reading the book you gave him because it comforted him better than any other book could.

You hummed, tapping your fingers along your forearm. “Okay, well, you should look for some more books. I have to get back to work or the library’s going to collapse without me. So, um, text me?”

He got whiplash from your sudden goodbye. “Y–Yeah, of course. I’ll see you next week right?”

“Of course,” you repeated, throwing him a wave as you grabbed the handle of the trolley and started pushing it out of the aisle.

“Wait, don’t forget this.” Spencer stopped you as he picked his basket back up from the floor, plucking The Poetry of Pablo Neruda out of it to hand to you.

You took it with a grateful smile, setting it on the trolley. “Thank you, Spencer, I’ll have to give you more poetry book recommendations since clearly you liked this one so much.”

He watched you disappear around the corner and was immediately hit with everything he wanted to say to you, what he should have said, all the conversations he wanted to have had. It wasn’t enough. You’d taken a decent chunk of time out of your busy day to chat with him but it still didn’t satisfy him. Spencer wondered if there would ever be enough of you, or if he was now forever craving you, needing your words, your laugh, you entirely.

He resigned himself to looking around the library for new books to read. Every time he entered a new aisle, he looked for you, having hope you’d be there but you never were. Still, he took his time finding books, but once he had seven in his basket he made his way down to the front desk.

Of course, Mrs. Wilson was sitting there and she was just as pleased as she was before to see Spencer standing in front of her. She stood up as he began unloading the books onto the countertop.

“Seven books?” She croaked.

“Yes? I only have three out and the check out limit is ten,” he justified, pausing as he rummaged his wallet for his library card.

“I know the checkout limit. You can’t check out more than five books at once,” she hissed, clawing two books off the top of the stack and dropping them onto the cart behind her. Without missing a beat, she turned back and snatched up his library card from the counter and began scanning.

“Okay. . .” he mumbled, unsure how to respond. Obviously that wasn’t library policy, but he wasn’t interested in fighting with your coworker. All he needed was for her to dislike him. Well, dislike him more than the disdain she seemed to have for everyone.

When she finished scanning and checking the books out, she slapped his library card on top of the stack and sat back in her seat, picking up her book again without a word. Spencer took that as his sign to get lost and quickly gathered up his books in his basket and made for the exit. He looked back once more as he opened the double doors and turned back around as they shut behind him.

Spencer wiped down the books and his basket in his car, setting them both up snug in his passenger seat. He sat there for a moment, looking back at the library, then pulled out his phone. Like you said, your name had been added to his contacts, your full name. He bounced his leg as he considered sending you a message, but finally gave in and typed a simple one out.

- Hey, it's Spencer Reid.

Again, his leg bounced viciously as his fingers hovered over the buttons, sporadically typing out letters before deleting them. He even set it down before he picked it back up and hurriedly sent another message.

- Mrs. Wilson only let me check out five books.

He tossed his phone over into his passenger seat with a sigh. Spencer Reid did not text. It was strange, embarrassing, and not at all something he was used to. He felt the urge to call Garcia and even ask if he was doing it right. Was there even a right way to text? There had to be and he had no clue what it was. Constantly Garcia was bringing up internet language Spencer did not understand. What if you knew it and he didn’t? He almost went back into the library to research it on the computer.

But he had to go home. He hadn’t eaten yet and his stomach was starting to rumble and growl. There was a chinese place on the way home, he could stop by there and get takeout. It wasn’t the healthiest plan, but there wasn’t much at the apartment besides pasta. That meant he also had to go grocery shopping tomorrow. He sighed through his nose as he put the car in drive, only to immediately throw it back in park when he heard his phone chime. He lunged over the console to the passenger seat so quickly the seat belt locked up and he choked himself momentarily before he could unfasten it and snap up his phone from the seat. There was a text from you.

- When do you go back to work?

His brows creased, but he responded swiftly nonetheless.

- Wednesday. Why?

- That means you have to come in tomorrow at 11, that's her lunch break. I can check you out.:)

He was even more confused by the punctuation at the end of your sentence. He reread it thrice for any clues to the meaning before he tilted his head and saw a smiley face staring back at him. A laugh burst from him, shaking his chest. He could put off grocery shopping until later in the day tomorrow.

—

Spencer came into the library Tuesday at 11am promptly. You escorted him around the library as he found two more books, then you let him pick an additional two more to check out on your own library account. After picking out the books, sneaking to check him out at the front desk became the best covert op mission Spencer had ever done, and he actually had done quite a few. As you talked, Spencer recounted cases he worked on and taught you the lingo they used in the field. When you slunk behind the front desk, you actually whisper-screamed “Clear!” at him with a face so serious Spencer had to slap a hand over his mouth so he didn’t blow the whole operation by laughing in your face. Your head bobbed constantly for any sight of Mrs. Wilson, even though you told him she ate lunch at the diner down the street. Then you slid him the two extra books like the scandal was DEA investigation worthy. All the while, you and Spencer giggled like children.

You were a lot less worried now when he told you about the cases he worked on, he tended to leave out the really scary parts, but the idea of him chasing after armed murders didn’t terrify you as much anymore. You seemed to trust him and his skills more, likely because of his excellent performance during “Operation Paperback,” which was the code name you lovingly bestowed upon your mission to check Spencer out more books while Mrs. Wilson took what was most definitely not a smoke break. (You told him you were going to launch your own investigation into the cigarette butts you kept finding in the parking lot when he left now that you were a pro at “FBI stuff.”)

Spencer left the library with a giant grin on his face and it stuck with him even as he picked out his next week's worth of meals at the grocery store. He also planned when he would see you again and thought about all the things he wanted to talk to you about. Of course, he wanted to tell you about all the great things he did: his successes as an FBI agent, how he earned his PhDs, the time he hit the ball and ran the winning homerun for Derek’s baseball team. But he also wanted to tell you the darker parts of his life: his mother’s illness, how the job had traumatized him, his struggle with addiction. And he wanted to know so much more about you in kind.

Swiftly, it was no longer just Sundays he was visiting the library. He was dropping in after work and on the odd days he had off due to prolonged cases in other states. It took him less than a week to memorize your schedule. You had off on Fridays and Saturdays, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you had classes. Of course, your classes were late after work on Monday and Wednesday, however they were early in the morning on Friday. The library hours were something he also saved in his mental rolodex. It had open hours all seven days of the week: 10am to 4pm on weekends and 11am to 7pm on weekdays. Spencer was leaving work on time for the first time in years to make it to the library before close.

Over the next couple weeks as he went to the library, he realized you spent a lot of time troubleshooting the computers. So when he came in he would either find a book to read or set himself up at an open computer near the one you were working on. He told you he was “researching” things for cases, but he didn’t really have to because anything he wanted to know he could have asked Garcia with her masterful skills and FBI grade software. He came to chat with you, listen to you complain about having to fix the computers so often because the local teens kept breaking them. Still, you were too timid to reprimand them or threaten to kick them out. In his job everyday there was always confrontation, everyone had to do it, so it was both confusing and sweet to him that you lacked the nerve to address people. He only wished you would stand up for yourself, because when you avoided confronting the problems it only ever gave you more labor.

You became much more comfortable with him though. You shared more thoughts openly, met his eyes more, and even shared things about yourself that seemed very personal. You told him about your parents, your friends, your quaint apartment, and some embarrassing stories of your childhood. As close as you both were becoming over the weeks, you refused to let him read any of the poems you wrote because “it's different when you read it than when strangers read it.” He couldn’t dream of it being bad. He wouldn’t even give criticism or comment on it, but still you wouldn’t let him. You did, however, let him read your interpretations and analyses of poetry and literature you were reading for your classes. He would finish scanning the texts in minutes, which you would whine and complain about taking hours doing as a slow reader, and then read your writings and give you his critiques. At first you were nervous and fidgety about it, would go quiet when he didn’t necessarily agree. Then, slowly, you became more argumentative, fighting him on whose perspective was correct. Spencer loved arguing with you, the way your face lit up when you thought you had him, and the pout of your lip when you conceded the genius maybe knew what he was talking about.

He handled five cases over the weeks he got to know you, during which he never used his phone more. He would be away for days at time and not be able to visit the library, so he resorted to texting you during the day and calling you from his hotel room in the evenings after you got home from classes, or just before you tucked yourself in for bed. Sometimes he talked about the cases, only giving you bits of information and keeping out the truly horrific things. Other times, he talked about his life. It was hard at first, telling you about the darkest parts of him, how he was far more complex than he originally led you to believe, then it became easy. You took it in stride, showing him an empathy he never knew he craved so deeply. You comforted him over the phone, or in the library, and assured him you didn’t see him any differently than before. Told him you were still his friend.

His friend. Of all the things you said to him while he was vulnerable, that one was the only one that wounded him. You were a great friend, truly, but Spencer was closer to the realization everyday he didn’t want to just be your friend. On the nights he wasn’t away on a case, when he entered his empty apartment and prepared himself dinner alone, he missed your voice. He wanted you there always, more than someone should want a friend. He never thought about Derek, or Penelope, or JJ the way he thought about you. His team was his family and he loved them, but the way he felt about you was another thing entirely. You consumed him at times. When he should be thinking about a case or chatting with one of the team, something reminds him of you and suddenly he’s stuck in a loop of thinking about what you were doing, thinking, feeling. He was distracted, and the worse part of it all was that his team was starting to notice.

Spencer tried to be discreet, but sometimes as he sent a text under his desk or hidden alone in a room Derek would catch him and he’d have to come up with a fast excuse. It always sounded defensive and not quite convincing because Spencer was not a very good liar. The rest of the team was catching him lost in thought, which wouldn’t be as damning if it didn’t happen so often. He cared for you so much he couldn’t help but think of you all day. He likely would never stop talking about either if he wasn’t hiding your existence from his team. At first it was because he tried to keep you very separate from his work life, like his job at the FBI didn’t have to exist when he was with you and therefore you did not exist when he was at work. But now you’d infiltrated his life completely and there was no possible way to keep you separate. He hid you now because well. . . he was embarrassed. Clearly he was obsessed with you, he couldn’t deny it anymore, but you didn’t feel the same way.

You were caring, kind, generous, empathetic, yes, but in love with him? Well you gave no indication you were. Often you would call him your friend, mention you were scared of relationships, and when he tried showing you he was interested in being more than your friend—getting closer to you, complimenting you, flirting with you—you got quiet and shied away, so he backed off. He wanted to be with you so desperately he put to use all the tips Derek had given him—the PG-13 ones at least—but none of it worked. Perhaps he wasn’t doing it right, or you just didn’t like him. He was trying hard to just settle with being just your friend.

“Oh my God, I hate this thing!” You hissed, slapping your hands over your face and groaning quietly into them.

“I’m guessing you tried turning it off and on again?” Spencer grinned. He pulled out the seat to the computer next to you, hanging the strap of his messenger bag on the chair behind him. Your eyes glared at him between your fingers.

“Don’t make me hate you too, Spencer. That never works.” Well then the problem went beyond his ability to fix. “I just don’t understand how they can get so many viruses on a computer? Everyday I’m blocking new websites.”

Computer six, which conveniently was the computer with the least visibility from the front desk, was almost always in need of fixing. Mainly because of a group of teens who would come in on the weekends or after school to play around on it. Constantly you were blocking the unsecure, often dangerous or pornographic websites they frequented. How they found them all, you could not fathom. You were fairly good at fixing the computer with all the time you’d spent doing it and all the tutorials you had to research, but were truly stuck. It was almost a week of the computer being down and you had no luck repairing it.

“You tried everything?” He asked, his smile dropping into a frown at your distress.

“Yes. I don’t know what to do anymore. Mrs. Wilson is on my ass about fixing it and she’ll never call the director to send someone to fix it because that costs money. And I’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a new computer and I don’t even play.” You drug your hands down your face, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I could get it fixed.”

You let out an unstifled laugh, which he would be happy to hear if you weren’t laughing at him. “Spencer, you suggested turning it off and on.”

“No, I mean I could ask someone to fix it. A member of my team, Penelope, is a technical analyst. She’s very good with computers and she could fix it.” He didn’t want to ask Garcia, actually the last thing he wanted to do was get his team involved, but he hated even more to see you so upset and stressed. He was just your friend and that was all Garcia would see.

Your mouth fell open and you waved your hand dismissively. “Oh no, I couldn’t bother her with this. She's probably so busy. I–I can handle it.”

Spencer smiled. You were so sweet, always determined on dealing with things so you didn’t have to put the weight onto others. It only made him want to help more. “She’d be doing me a favor. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

“Are you sure?” Beyond the apprehension, he saw how hopeful you were.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll let you know when she can come fix it,” he said, watching the smile spread across your face. You were so elated, you reached over the space between the chairs to give him a hug, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much, Spencer,” you mumbled into his shoulder. He awkwardly patted your back, unsure exactly what to do with his gangly arms. He wasn’t too much of a hugger, neither were you, so it was the first time you’d ever hugged him. His cheeks warmed at the thought.

Unfortunately, he had to follow through on his promises. So the next day when he went into work he hung around the door to Garcia’s lair, repeating over and over in his head how he was going to ask. He opened the door with a knock and she swirled around in her chair to look at him, a megawatt smile beaming.

“Hey handsome, what can I do ya for?” She greeted, spinning a fuzzy orange pen between her fingers.

Spencer wrung his hands in the doorway, halfway between coming in and running away. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Of course! What did you need me to look up?” She spun back in her chair, hands at the ready.

“It’s not that, it's a personal favor. A–A tech problem. Do you think you could help me with it this Sunday?”

Slowly, Garcia tapped her heels on the floor to turn her spinny chair back towards Spencer, eyebrow quirked. “Okay, technophobe. What’s this tech problem because I didn’t think you owned a computer?”

“It’s a computer at the library I go to. It’s been out of order for a week now and they can’t seem to get it fixed,” he explained, continuing to fidget.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head, gesturing at him with her fuzzy pen. “Is there not more than one computer at the library? Or are libraries really that popular still? I think you should just get a computer, Reid. I promise it’s not that scary and I’ll pick you a good one! The kind even old people know how to use—no offense. We can go—”

“Garcia,” he interrupted her rambling with a wince. Clearly he wasn’t going to get away with asking for her help so vaguely. “The library can’t afford to pay someone to fix it so I told the librarian I’d ask if you could. If you’re too busy, it’s alright.”

She seemed skeptical, mouth bobbing open and closed like she had more to say, but finally closed it with a simple nod. “I can fix it, of course I can fix it. JJ canceled our brunch plans Sunday so I can be there at 11:30.”

Spencer gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the address. Thank you, Garcia.” He wanted to add that she probably shouldn’t mention it to the rest of the team, but knowing Garcia’s lack of subtlety and habit of being just a tad nosey, he figured that would only make it more suspicious and odd.

So he gave her a farewell and speed walked back to his desk, taking his seat with a heavy sigh of relief. Garcia may not be a profiler, but she knew him well and she had a bloodhound like nose for gossip. If he wasn’t careful, she would sniff out just how much he liked the librarian he mentioned so briefly. Then it would spread like wildfire around the office and Spencer would be safe from no one’s prying and teasing.

It was the first Sunday he was nervous to go to the library. His palms were sweaty as he waited at the computer with you, you none the wiser. He tried to focus on you to calm down because you were always his source of comfort. His eyes trailed over your long skirt and t-shirt combo, making note of the way you kept touching your arms as if you were cold. No doubt you’d slip on the cardigan you kept behind the desk soon, but he assumed you wanted to look nice to meet Penelope, because you did look very nice. Your hair was out of its updo and if he looked hard enough at your face, which he did, he could tell you were wearing lipgloss and some other little bits of makeup.

“You okay?” You asked him softly, eyes looking over his own face.

“I’m fine,” he blurted maybe a little too quickly because you looked unconvinced. Slowly you were learning his tells and he wasn’t sure how long it would be before you found out how fixated he was on you and you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. “I just. . . I hope Penelope can fix it for you.”

You smiled sweetly, looking away at the entrance. “I bet she can, but even if she can’t, it's okay. It was nice of you and her to try.”

He wanted to reassure you that he would always try for you, but Penelope came through the double doors, absolutely glowing like the sun. In mood, but also in outfit. Or maybe it was more like a sunflower? All Spencer knew was that it was very yellow and vibrant. She came rushing over when she saw him and you stand up to greet her.

“Hi, you must be Penelope. Spencer told me so much about you,” You greeted and immediately Spencer realized he messed up.

Garcia’s eyes ran over you, then went back and forth between you and Spencer. He could see the gears turning in her head. “Oh, hello!” She chirped, friendly as always but awkward because she heard nothing about you.

Quickly, Spencer introduced you to Penelope and both you and her shook hands before she put him out of his misery and asked what the problem with the computer was. She took a seat at computer six and you stood next to her, pointing out things on the screen.

“I have some kids that keep coming in and going on all these sketchy websites. I keep blocking them, but they keep finding new ones and it’s loading the computer up with viruses. Then it runs slow and freezes so often it’s unusable,” You shook your head as you explained, exasperated by it all. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot, but do you think you could fix it?”

“Oh, please. Those are some easy fixes! I’ll just remove the viruses and add some more blocking software not even tech savvy kids can get around.” Garcia was already typing at the computer, doing things on the screen Spencer didn’t bother to try and comprehend. He was looking at you as the grin yanked up your lips.

“Really? Thank you so much. I’ve been fighting with this damn thing for weeks. I’m not great with computers.”

“I think you’ve done pretty good so far. You’re much better than Reid, that’s for sure. Sorry fellow genius, but it's true,” she glanced back at him, almost remorseful but still carrying a smile.

You laughed, always eager to tease him. “When he’s on a computer I think he lied to me about having an IQ of 187. He needs my help finding research databases, pulling up old articles, everything but logging in, really.”

“Huh,” Garcia glanced back at him again, only to find his eyes averted and his hands stuffed into his pockets to stop their incessant fidgeting. He was caught and he knew it. He maybe. . . exaggerated how bad he was with computers to you at first, just to get you to come over and talk to him when he first started coming to the library after work, but unfortunately he didn’t know how to end the ruse. Garcia called him a certified technophobe, but even she knew he had those basic skills, especially since she’d seen him do it on his own before.

“How long do you think it will take?” You asked, glancing over the rest of the computers to the desk. “I just have to get back to managing the front desk.”

“Only about a half hour. I’m going to do the other computers as well to save you some time blocking websites. You can go though, I got this.” She gave you a smile, gesturing for you to leave.

“Thank you again, Penelope. I’ll be back before you’re done,” you promised, fluttering away from the table swiftly to help someone standing at the front desk.

“So…” Garcia was looking up at Spencer impishly.

“So?” He asked, though he had a good idea of what was coming.

“Do you like her?” Her eyes were hopeful, lips spread into a grin.

“Garcia. . .” he warned, pleading for her not to go any further. He didn’t want to have to lie, but he couldn’t tell her that he was hopelessly falling in love with you.

But that only sold it for her, her hands reaching off the keys to fan her face. “OMG. You do like her!”

He glanced around to see if you heard her exclamation, but you were busy talking to the man standing at the front desk. “Penelope, she’s my friend,” he tried to be firm in his assertion, but even to his own ears it sounded more like a whine.

“A very cute friend! Who seems like the sweetest person on earth. Oh, and she works in a library. So adorable—y'know—because you’re always reading? Are you sure she’s just a friend?” She launched into a ramble, too clouded by the idea that he may be interested in someone to recognize the hurt on his face.

“I’m sure. She’s… she doesn’t like me like that,” he sounded sad, he didn’t mean to, but he was. He had a very hard time hiding his feelings, and now Penelope heard it and was looking at him like he was a kicked puppy.

“Oh, well, I—really? She seemed so. . .” She was at a loss for words, watching as you walked past guiding the man from the desk over to the staircase, likely showing him where to find a specific genre. Penelope shook her head as you disappeared from view, redirecting her focus back to the screen and letting her hands fly back to the keyboard. “I should mind my business. Right. Bad Garcia.”

Spencer frowned, eyes lingering on where you vanished up the stairs. He pulled back out the chair beside her and slumped in it, avoiding her eyes. “Thank you, Garcia.”

He didn’t have to thank her for long though.

She fixed the computer and you were so incredibly grateful you hugged her. Or rather, you hugged her back after Garcia enveloped you into her arms, so overwhelmed with your praise, but you seemed glad to let it happen. Even after she left, and a few days later the teens returned, they were upset to find the new restrictions on the computer they couldn’t bypass, much to your delight. Spencer was thankful for that, but he was much less grateful when only a week and a half later Garcia slipped up and mentioned you to the team.

He was wrapping up his paperwork fast, reading through documents at lightning speed and filling them out so quickly his handwriting was nearly illegible. But he promised he’d come to the library to see you after work because he was away on a case the past couple days including last Sunday. He was so invested in completing his paperwork he didn’t even notice Derek and Penelope passing him with cups of coffee.

“Whoa kid, got a date you're running late for?” Derek joked, perching at Spencer’s desk to grin down at him with a teasing smile.

“Oooo, I bet it's that cute—” As the words came tumbling from Garcia’s pink lips, Spencer’s face ripped away from his paperwork to look at her, and with a look of horror she quickly cut herself off to sip from her mug.

Derek’s brows creased, looking between Spencer and Garcia with an amused bewilderment. “That cute what?” When Garcia avoided his eyes, drowning in her coffee, and Spencer’s cheeks turned pink, realization covered Derek’s face. “Oh, okay pretty boy, I see you! That must be why you’ve been on your phone so much. What cute girl have you been talking to?”

Spencer cleared his throat, turning back to his papers as he consolidated them from the cluttered mess into a neat pile. “No one.”

Derek laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, no. Don’t get all shy now, playa, spill.”

When Spencer refused to respond, continuing to shuffle about his papers, Derek narrowed his gaze onto Garcia, who could drink from her cup no longer and began coughing. It gathered the attention of a few other pairs of eyes in the office just in time for her to finish her choking and begin spilling.

“Okay! She’s this absolutely adorable librarian! She’s the sweetest thing and her style is so cute and I wanted to ask her where she got her glasses from, but I was too distracted because Reid totally likes her and thinks that she doesn’t like him, but I was trying to get all profiler on her because I thought ‘there’s no way she couldn’t like boy genius because he’s just as cute and they are so made for each other’ and—like you guys know, I’m no profiler—but I’m pretty sure she likes him!” Finally she took in a breath, practically hyperventilating and fanning her face.

Spencer gawked at her, wide eyed. “Penelope!”

She looked at him sympathetically, but it was Derek’s face that he focused on. His brows were high on his forehead, mouth gaping as he took all of her words in. “Okay, first of all: wow. Second of all: why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

Spencer chewed on his lip. He didn’t really want to explain himself to Derek and Penelope, two people known for their confidence and dating escapades, but he was cornered. Not only that, but he was becoming so desperate he found himself wanting their advice. “I–I don’t know. Whenever I try to show her I’m. . . interested, she gets quiet and awkward.”

“How have you been showing her you’re ‘interested?’”

He shrugged, leg bouncing under the table. “Flirting with her I guess?”

Derek scoffed. “You guess?” When Spencer could do nothing but look away with a heavy sigh, Derek continued. “Look man, she could just be shy. I know it’s scary, but you have to just ask her out on a date. That's the only way you’re really going to know if she likes you.”

Spencer picked at a loose thread on his cardigan, voice quiet. “But what if she says no? I just. . .” He licked his lips, playing over the words in his head and wondering if he wanted to be so vulnerable to Derek and Penelope. “I like her so much. . .” he whispered.

Garcia cooed, tottering around the desk in her heels to wrap her free arm around Spencer. “Who could ever say no to you, handsome? I’m positive, she’ll say yes, I know that girl likes you!”

“Hey,” Derek said, getting Spencer to look up at him as Garcia released him. “You got nothing to worry about, pretty boy. Now you go to that library and ask her out to a nice fancy restaurant—which no pretty girl can refuse—and I’ll worry about this paperwork.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked meekly, but Derek and Penelope only reassured him and ushered him out of his seat. He was out of the office less than ten minutes later, getting into his car. He flipped down the sun visor to look at himself in the tiny mirror, frowning at his reflection. His hair was always a mess and he needed to shave.

He flipped the visor back up with a sigh, putting his car in drive and taking himself to the library before he sat in the parking lot all night stressing. He didn’t have to ask you out, but he did have to go because he promised you he’d be there. . . and he missed you dearly.

The library was empty when entered. There were sometimes a few stranglers this late, but on a random Tuesday night the library was clear of everyone but you, bent over wiping down the tables for the night. His eyes roamed over you, breath catching in his chest like it always did when he first laid his gaze on you again.

“Good evening,” he greeted, trying not to startle you with his presence.

You turned quickly, a smile taking over your bored face when you spotted him standing by the front desk. “Spencer! How was your flight this morning?”

“Fine. I finished the book on biological regulations and development, but I mostly just slept because we had a whole day of paperwork to catch up on.”

“And work today?” You asked, throwing a wet wipe in the trash and plucking out another as you moved to clean the next table.

“Like I said, paperwork. Very boring.” He untucked his hands from his pockets, setting his messenger bag down at the front desk and grabbing a wet wipe from the container to help you wipe down tables. He often helped you with your closing work when he arrived so late, especially on nights you had classes after work. “How about you?”

You shrugged, gesturing around the room with your hands. “It’s the library. Same thing everyday here.”

“That’s not true. What about the clown?”

A laugh burst from you as you remembered the story you told him the other day on the phone, you curled up in bed and him sitting on a couch in a hotel room five states away. You stayed up late until he got back from the police station just to tell him about the man who came in dressed in a full clown get-up to print out coloring book pages for a birthday party he was running late to. It made your whole week and you just had to tell him, howling particularly hard about how Mrs. Wilson, after thoroughly wiping down the printer, printed out a notice to put on the front door instating a library dress code of no costumes.

“The clown was probably the most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. That says something about how boring it is.”

“Is the FBI showing up everyday not interesting?” He mocked confused.

You gave him a playful glare over your shoulder. “Okay. I guess you can be the second most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. Right below the clown.”

Spencer chuckled. “I should be offended by that, shouldn’t I?”

“Feel how you want to feel, Spencer. But Bo-Bo is the only one who’s given me coloring book sheets.” You shrugged, playing nonchalance.

“Oh, because I print those out so often at my job? If I did, there wouldn’t be enough crayons at the dollar store for you to color them all.” Maybe he was in a fake competition with a clown for your favor. Either way, when you ducked your head with a breathy giggle, he knew he won it.

When you both finished wiping down the tables, he took out the trash while you set about turning off the lights, shutting down the computers, and other small tasks. He met you at the front desk as you collected your bag and jacket, pulling his messenger bag back over his own head. He held the door open for you as you both left the library and stood by your side as you locked the doors.

“Thank you for helping me close,” you smiled at him as you tucked the keys into your bag.

“Of course.” He wanted to say it should have been Mrs. Wilson helping you, because the old bat usually took off an hour or so before close, but you brushed him off every time he suggested reporting her and he didn’t want to sour your mood. He also liked walking you to your car, especially when it was this late and dark, because the thought of anything happening to you was so devastating he couldn’t stand to think about it.

So he walked with you down the staircase and across the lot to where you parked your car early this morning and he pulled in next to you a little while ago. It was already dark, but the street lamp you parked your car under illuminated you and him as you stood under it, arms wrapped around yourself. You searched for something to say, he could see it in the way your lips twitched and your eyes roamed his face. For a moment, the sound of crickets and the eerie hum of night faded, and Derek’s words were thunder in his ears. He would never know unless he asked you, and he couldn’t live looking at your sweet face knowing he never even tried.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes nearly as big as planets amplified by your glasses, which glinted off them as you nodded rapidly, lips parting to take in a sharp breath. “Yes!”

Spencer was taken aback. His ears buzzed and a tingling sensation filled his extremities. He was elated, but thrown off by your complete enthusiasm. “Wha–really?”

You shook your head at him, laughing breathily as if he stole the wind from you. “Yes, of course I do, Spencer. I–I’ve wanted. . .” Your eyes looked between his nervously.

“You wanted what?” He insisted, leaning in because he had to know what you’ve been thinking, what you’ve been wanting from him that he missed.

You looked down shyly, picking at your nails despite how your fingers shook. “I wanted to ask you out when I first met you. When you were just some guy in the library, and I thought you were obviously flirting by trying to impress me but. . . then you were telling the truth and I–I was so embarrassed I was wrong and I thought you didn’t like me like that. . . and soon enough you weren’t just some guy, you were Spencer, and I–um, I couldn’t let myself ruin it.”

His hands gently took yours, stopping their anxious picking. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at you, heart so full and beating so fast he heard it thrumming in his ears. “You couldn’t ruin anything. You’re so. . . perfect,” he mumbled, close enough to taste your air. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since you gave me that book. I saw you in every poem and reading your thoughts made me feel like I was in your head, feeling what you were feeling. I needed it after every case, I–I needed you. All I wanted was to ask you out but. . .”

He was at a loss for words, but you shook your hand, squeezing his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Spencer. . .” His eyes glanced down to your lips, but just as he considered leaning down to capture them with his, you ducked your head nervously again, softly letting go of his hands. Spencer reeled with disappointment he didn’t kiss you, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Um, I did give you that book on purpose. I think the most romantic thing on this Earth is poetry and. . . I hoped it was enough of a sign.”

He recovered quickly, excited just to know you returned his feelings. He sighed into the new open air between the two of you. “I knew it. You bewitched me.”

You giggled, a sweet sound that picked up as you met his eyes again, swatting at him with a hand. “No I didn’t!”

Your laugh dissipated and the two of you were standing in the parking lot, looking at each other under a streetlamp. “Saturday at seven?”

“What?”

“Our date? Is Saturday at seven okay?” He reiterated.

“Oh. Oh, yes. That’s a good time,” you stuttered, snatched from whatever daze you stared at him in. He smiled.

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure out the details?” He offered. You needed time to process it, he thought, because he knew he did. He would get home and sit on his couch, replaying every word from your lips and flutter of your lash in his head. Maybe that was the best part of an eidetic memory.

“Okay.” You nodded. He opened your car door for you and you climbed inside. “Good night, Spencer,” you hummed at him before closing the door.

He watched you leaving the parking lot before he got into his own car because he had to sit there for a minute, calming his pounding heart before he got out on the road. For the first time in a while, he was most excited for Saturday over Sunday.

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