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badathumanemotions · 9 months ago

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Heat of the Moment

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Category: Smut CW: A/B/O, Delta Spencer, Omega Reader, Masturbation, Wet Dream, Heat, Rut, Breeding, Knotting, Oral Sex, Somnophilia, Going Into Heat While On A Case, Scenting, Biting, Marathon Sex, Fingering. WC: 18,486 Y/N, an omega, goes into heat while on a case. Spencer does his best to try to control himself. (Not Proof Read) Master List This was supposed to be a quick smut piece but as you can see it kind of got away from me.

The soft click of the door closing echoed through the quiet hotel corridor as Y/N L/N, the youngest member of the BAU team, let out a sigh of relief. She had spent the entire day poring over case files, her mind racing with the grim details of the unsolved murders in rural Wisconsin. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered on her clothes from the morgue. As she approached her room, the weight of the day's events grew heavier, the anticipation of a hot shower and a good night's sleep almost palpable.

Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed, her thoughts immediately drifting to the Unsub they were hunting. He was clever, leaving behind clues that seemed to taunt them with every step they took. The latest victim had been found in a field of tall, golden grasses, her lifeless body a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop. The way he had displayed her, so open and vulnerable, sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. Her mind reeled with the possible motives behind his gruesome rituals.

Y/N rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of the chaos. Why unmated females? What was his endgame? The questions swirled like a tornado in her mind, refusing to be pinned down. She pulled out her notebook, flipping through the pages of neatly scribbled notes and theories. Each one looked less convincing than the last, and she felt the pressure of the case closing in on her like a vice. The urge to solve this was more than just professional; it was personal. As an omega, she knew the fear that these women must have felt, the vulnerability of being hunted by someone who saw them as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.

With a frustrated groan, she tossed the notebook aside and peeled off her clothes. The fabric clung to her sticky skin, and she felt a little warm, a hint of irritation building in her chest. Her headache grew, the pounding in her temples becoming more insistent. She decided to take a quick shower to wash away the grime of the day, hoping the cool water would bring some relief. The spray washed over her, and she leaned into it, letting it soothe her tense muscles. The water trickled down her body, and she noticed that her skin was more sensitive than usual, her senses heightened. She dismissed it as stress from the case, not realizing that her body was already preparing for the inevitable.

After drying off, she slipped into a soft, oversized t-shirt and shorts, her usual sleepwear for comfort. She crawled into bed, the sheets cool against her overheated skin. As she lay there, her thoughts strayed from the case to her team, particularly Spencer Reid. He had been acting differently around her lately, more protective and attentive.

Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the way his eyes had lingered on her earlier in the day, the heat in his gaze unmistakable. But she had been too focused on the case to give it much thought. Now, as she lay in the dark, the memory of his touch sent a warm shiver through her. They had always had a special bond, one that went beyond friendship or colleagues. But she had never allowed herself to explore the possibility of anything more. She had always been too scared to risk their friendship, to admit that she wanted him to claim her, to be the one to fill the void that only a mate could.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and soon she drifted into a deep sleep, her dreams filled with the warm embrace of the man she had secretly longed for. Spencer's gentle whispers and tender touches filled her mind, his scent wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. In the haze of her dreams, she felt his body pressed against hers, the softness of his lips brushing against her neck, sending waves of pleasure through her.

The dream grew more intense, and she could feel his teeth graze her skin, the pressure building until she gasped with desire. His strong arms held her close, and she melted into his touch, arching her back to give him better access to the sensitive spots that craved his attention. His scent was intoxicating, a heady mix of masculine musk and the sweet promise of home. Her body responded instinctively, heat pooling between her thighs, begging for his touch.

In her dream, Spencer's voice was soothing, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he trailed kisses down her neck. His hands roamed over her curves, exploring every inch of her body with a gentle possessiveness that made her toes curl. She reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The feel of his skin against hers was electric, and she could almost taste the desperation in the air.

The intensity grew, and her body responded, betraying her with a need that was impossible to ignore. Her core ached for his touch, for the pressure of his knot that would fill her completely. She whimpered, her legs parting instinctively, inviting him in. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her chest, and she felt his hardness against her thigh.

In her mind, Spencer hovered over her, his eyes blazing with a desire that mirrored her own. His long fingers traced the line of her collarbone, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. He claimed her mouth with a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deep, tasting her sweetness. His scent grew stronger, overwhelming her, and she could feel the warmth of his arousal, his need for her pounding in time with her own heartbeat.

Her dream-self arched into him, the ache in her core becoming unbearable. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, and moved his attention to her neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. She could feel his teeth graze her, and she moaned, begging for the bite that would claim her as his own.

With a growl, Spencer pushed the fabric of her shirt aside, revealing her full, round breasts. He took one in his hand, his thumb flicking over the taut nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. His mouth followed the path his hand had made, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth. She gasped, her back bowing off the bed, her nails digging into the mattress. The feeling was exquisite, and she wanted more.

He kissed his way down her stomach, pausing to kiss her navel before continuing his descent. His breath was hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring with need. She could feel his tongue against her folds, teasing and licking, tasting her sweetness. Her body responded eagerly, her hips rising to meet his mouth.

Spencer's tongue was a masterful tool, exploring and caressing every part of her with a gentle insistence that made her whimper. He lapped at her clit, the sensitive bud swollen with desire, and she felt the first tremors of an impending climax. He was relentless, his strokes growing more intense, each touch sending her closer to the edge. The room spun around her, the walls closing in as the pleasure built within her, a crescendo that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces.

But the moment never came. Instead, she was jolted awake by the harsh beeping of her alarm, the cold reality of the hotel room replacing the warm embrace of her dream. Y/N's breathing was ragged, her body flushed and slick with arousal. She reached down, her hand finding her clit, still throbbing with the echoes of Spencer's phantom touch. Her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. It was just a dream, she reminded herself, but the need remained, a dull ache that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart.

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she sat up, her body protesting the sudden movement. The room was bathed in the soft glow of early dawn, the curtains not quite thick enough to keep out the light.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of her dream. She quickly dressed in her usual work attire, a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, and headed down to the lobby to meet the others. The team was already there, gathered around a large table with a spread of coffee and pastries. Aaron Hotchner looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her flushed cheeks.

Hotch could smell the subtle change in Y/N's scent, the sweet aroma of an omega in the early stages of heat. He cleared his throat and announced, "Alright, everyone. We're heading to the police station to review the latest evidence and coordinate with local law enforcement." His voice was firm, his gaze flicking briefly to the young omega before returning to the rest of the team.

The day passed in a blur of interviews and crime scenes, Y/N's scent growing stronger with each passing hour. It was a silent, unspoken tension that hung in the air, the other male agents giving her a wider berth than usual. Spencer couldn't focus, his mind racing with images of her writhing in ecstasy beneath him. He found himself glancing at her frequently, his eyes drawn to the way her shirt clung to her breasts, the way her cheeks flushed with the slightest exertion. The urge to claim her was like a beast clawing at the inside of his chest, demanding to be released.

While walking over to the coffee pot, a leering smile spread across one of the uniformed officers' faces as he watched Y/N's hips sway. He leaned in close, his voice a lecherous whisper. "Looks like someone's ready to be mounted," he said, his eyes raking over her body. The other officers snickered, the sound grating on Spencer's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Hotch's head snapped up at the crude remark, his alpha instincts flaring. The room went silent as he stalked over to the group, his eyes burning with fury. He stepped in front of the offending officer, his shoulders squared and his expression hard. "That's enough," he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down the man's spine. "You will address Agent L/N with the respect she deserves, or you can take your comments and your sorry excuse for an attitude elsewhere."

The officer's smile faded, his face paling as he took a step back. "S-sorry, Agent Hotchner," he stuttered, visibly intimidated by the alpha's dominance. The tension in the room dissipated slightly, but the protective vibe from the team remained palpable.

Y/N's cheeks burned as she walked back to her seat, trying to ignore the stares of the other officers. She took a sip of her coffee, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the unease in her stomach. As the day dragged on, she grew increasingly uncomfortable, her skin feeling too tight and her senses heightened. The smell of coffee grew too strong, the fabric of her clothes irritating her sensitive skin. Her stomach cramped, and she felt a sudden need to be away from the male presence in the room.

It was only when JJ pulled her aside, her eyes filled with concern, that the pieces finally clicked into place. "Are you okay?" JJ whispered, her voice low and soothing. "You're flushed, and you've been looking a little…uncomfortable."

Y/N's hand flew to her stomach, her eyes wide with realization. "Oh no," she murmured, the truth dawning on her. "I think I'm going into heat."

JJ's eyes widened in understanding, her grip on Y/N's arm tightening. "You need to tell Hotch," she said urgently. "We can't have unmated males around you in this state."

Nodding, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She didn't want to be a liability on the case, but she couldn't ignore the primal pull of her body. She nodded, and JJ slipped away, leaving her in the women's room.

The walls felt like they were closing in, the room suddenly too warm. Her stomach churned, and she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. Y/N leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink, trying to get a grip on herself. The realization that she was going into heat hit her like a ton of bricks. Hotch was an alpha; he would have picked up on her scent immediately. The thought of his reaction made her stomach drop.

Her eyes searched the mirror, looking for any signs of the change that was happening to her. Her pupils had dilated slightly, and her cheeks were flushed. She could feel the pheromones radiating from her, calling out to any unmated within range. Panic set in, and she knew she had to tell him, had to get out of there before she became a distraction. Before any of the unmated in the precinct tried to claim her.

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest as she tried to compose herself. She couldn't let them see her like this, not when they were so close to catching the Unsub. She took a deep breath, willing the scent of her impending heat to recede. It was a fool's errand; she knew that once an omega's heat started, there was no hiding it.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she could feel the weight of every male gaze in the precinct on her. It was like a tangible force, pushing her to submit, to let one of them claim her. Her legs felt wobbly, and she clutched her stomach, willing the pain to subside. The air was thick with the scent of testosterone and desire, making it hard to breathe.

The case they were working on was a stark reminder that, no matter how much the world moved forward, some dark corners remained stubbornly entrenched in the past. The idea of an unmated omega was still a taboo subject, one that brought out the basest instincts in the men around here.

Y/N's steps grew heavier as she made her way back to the team, the whispers of the male officers like a toxic fog that clung to her. She could see the way they watched her, the hunger in their eyes. Here, in this small town, the old ways died hard. The stench of misogyny and discrimination was a palpable presence that made her skin crawl.

Spencer's protective instincts kicked in. He could feel the tension in the air, the way it thickened with the scent of unbridled lust. His eyes scanned the room, his grip on his notepad tightening. He knew Y/N was in trouble, knew that he had to get her out of there before things got out of hand. He caught Emily's eye and jerked his head towards the door. "Get the keys and start the car" he murmured tersely.

Emily's confusion was evident, but she didn't question him. She knew Spencer well enough to trust his gut, especially when it came to Y/N. She nodded and slipped out of the room, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. Spencer turned to Y/N, his voice low and urgent. "We need to go." He took her by the elbow, guiding her gently but firmly towards the exit.

Her eyes searched his, questions swirling in the depths of her gaze. "What's happening?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Spencer didn't answer, his focus solely on navigating the gauntlet of male officers that seemed to have grown denser in the short time they had been apart. His hand on her arm was a silent reassurance, a promise that he would keep her safe.

The cool night air hit her like a slap in the face as they stepped outside. The crispness of it helped to clear her head, the scent of her heat less overpowering. Spencer led her to the car, his eyes never leaving her as he opened the door and helped her inside. Emily was already behind the wheel, the engine running, the headlights casting a pool of light on the deserted street.

"Take her back to the hotel," Spencer instructed Emily, his voice tight with urgency. "Keep her safe."

Emily nodded, her gaze flicking to Y/N's flushed face before she shifted the car into drive. The engine roared to life, and the tires squealed as they peeled out of the precinct's parking lot. Y/N leaned back in the seat, her eyes closed, trying to ignore the way her body was betraying her. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the scent of her arousal growing stronger by the second.

Spencer watched the car pull away, his mind racing. He had to tell Hotch, had to make sure she was protected. He took a deep breath and headed back into the precinct, his steps quick and purposeful. The eyes of the male officers followed him, their gazes lingering on his retreating back.

Spencer could hear the murmur of his and JJ's voices. He paused, his hand hovering over the slight ajar door. "We can't risk it," Hotch was saying, his voice tight with concern. "We need to get her somewhere safe, away from here."

JJ's voice was just as urgent. "But the case, we can't just leave it—"

Spencer pushed the door all the way open, interrupting them mid-sentence. His eyes were wild, a mix of fear and determination etched into his features. "I had Emily take her back to the hotel," he announced, his voice strained. "But we can't just leave it at that. We need to make sure she's safe, that no one tries to claim her."

Hotch nodded gravely, his expression tightening. "You're right," he said, his gaze flicking to the door that Y/N had just left through. "We need to be more vigilant than ever. Her heat is going to make her a target for any unmated male in the area."

JJ nodded in agreement. "But we can't let it affect the case. We have to catch this unsub before he strikes again."

Hotch's jaw clenched. "We'll split up the workload," he decided. "JJ, you and Prentiss stay with Y/N. The rest of us will keep working the case from here."

Spencer's chest tightened with a possessive instinct that he had never felt before. The thought of anyone else being with Y/N while she was in heat was unbearable. He needed to be the one to comfort her, to keep her safe from the predators that would be drawn to her scent. His eyes met Hotch's, and he could see the alpha's understanding in the depths of his gaze.

Hotch took a step closer, his voice a low rumble that only Spencer could hear. "You know I can't have you around her like this," he said, his expression a mix of sympathy and resolve. "It's too risky."

Spencer's eyes flashed with frustration, but he knew Hotch was right. The alpha's protective instincts were as much a part of him as Spencer's own need to claim her. "I know," he forced out, his voice tight.

Hotch clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep her safe," he promised. "But we also need you to stay focused on the case. We can't let this distract us from catching the Unsub."

Spencer nodded, swallowing hard. "I know," he murmured. "But what if—"

Hotch's hand on his shoulder was firm, cutting him off. "You're the best we've got, Reid," he said, his voice firm. "Your mind is crucial to cracking this case. We need you here."

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to push down the primal need that was threatening to overwhelm him. He knew Hotch was right; Y/N was in good hands with Emily and JJ. But the thought of her in heat, vulnerable and alone, was almost too much to bear. "Understood," he said, his voice strained.

As he sat down at the table, the scent of her still lingered in the air, a sweet, musky aroma that seemed to have seeped into every corner of the room. It was like a siren's call, taunting him with what he couldn't have. He closed his eyes, willing the images away. Her naked body, writhing with need, begging for his touch.

The case notes in front of him blurred, and he found himself tracing the same line over and over again with his finger. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, torn between the hunt for the Unsub and the overwhelming desire to claim Y/N.

With a growl of frustration, Spencer shoved his chair back and began to pace the room. He needed to focus, to find a pattern, a clue that would lead them to the killer. The scent of Y/N's heat was a constant distraction, a siren's song that played on repeat in his head. But he couldn't let it derail him. Not now, not when they were so close.

He picked up a file, his eyes scanning the pages with a fervor that was almost desperate. His mind raced, trying to connect the dots. The Unsub was clever, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that led them in circles. But Spencer knew he had to be in here somewhere, hiding in plain sight. He couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of saving lives.

He could feel the eyes of the other agents on him, the weight of their expectations. They needed him to be the genius he was known to be, not the lovesick fool his mind was trying to turn him into. Spencer took a deep breath, centering himself. He had to find a way to block out the scent of Y/N's heat, to focus solely on the case.

The clock on the wall ticked away the hours, the seconds feeling like an eternity. The rest of the team worked tirelessly around him, each one driven by the urgency of the case. Files were spread out across the table, coffee cups grew cold, and the room grew stale with the scent of their determination. Yet, Spencer's mind kept wandering, his thoughts slipping back to Y/N and the desperate need to claim her.

Midnight approached, and the team's energy began to wane. The room grew quieter, the murmurs of conversation dying down as the weight of their failure to catch the Unsub grew heavier. One by one, they called it a night, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and frustration. Spencer knew he should be just as tired, but the ache in his body was keeping him wired, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N.

With a final sigh, he stood, his legs protesting after hours of inactivity. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be with her, needed to protect her from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of this small town. The scent of her heat had been a constant distraction all evening, a siren's call that grew stronger with each passing moment.

He headed back to the hotel, his mind racing with the urgency of his need. The elevator ride up seemed to take forever. When the doors finally opened onto his floor, the air was thick with her pheromones, a sweet, potent scent that made his blood boil. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the beast that stirred within him. He had to be in control, had to keep his head.

But the moment he stepped into the hallway, the scent grew stronger, and his resolve began to crumble. His heart raced, his cock hardening in his pants. His body was screaming at him to claim her, to make her his, to fill her with his seed and keep her safe. It was a primal urge that was almost too much to resist.

With each step closer to her door, Spencer's control slipped further away. His breaths grew shallower, his eyes locked onto the wood that separated them. His hand hovered over the handle, his knuckles white with the effort of not giving in. The need to be inside her, to feel her warmth and hear her cries of pleasure, was an ache that was becoming unbearable.

He paused, his mind a battleground between his rational self and the primal instincts that ruled during a rut. The smell of her heat was like a drug, clouding his judgment and driving him to the brink of madness. He knew it was wrong, that he could lose everything by acting on these urges, but the beast inside of him didn't care about consequences.

The sound of a door opening down the hall jolted him back to reality, and Spencer realized the risk he was taking. He had to get away from her before he lost control. With a herculean effort, he turned on his heel and raced to his room.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the silent hotel corridor. His hand trembled as he reached for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The fabric clung to his damp skin, the scent of Y/N's heat clinging to him like a second skin. He stumbled to the shower, cranking the cold water to the max. The icy spray hit him like a slap, but it did little to ease the fever in his blood.

Spencer leaned against the tiles, his head dropping back as the water pummeled his face. He closed his eyes and took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to drown out the images that plagued him. The scent of her arousal had him wired, his body begging for release. With a growl of frustration, he reached for the soap, his hand shaking as he lathered it over his chest. His eyes drifted down to the evidence of his desire, thick and heavy between his legs.

He knew he needed to relieve the tension, to purge the images from his mind before he did something stupid. His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking firmly as he pictured Y/N's face, her eyes filled with need. The water sluiced over his skin, mixing with the scent of the soap and the heady scent of his own arousal. His mind was a maelstrom of desire, each touch sending shockwaves through his body.

In his imagination, she was sprawled out on the bed, her legs spread wide, begging for him to fill her. Her voice was a siren's call, her sweet scent of heat driving him wild. "Please, Spencer," she moaned, her voice a breathless whisper. "Knot me, breed me. Make me yours."

The thought was almost too much to handle, and Spencer's hand moved faster, his strokes growing more urgent. He could feel the pressure building, his balls tightening with the need to release. In his mind's eye, he saw her, writhing beneath him, her body begging for his dominance. "Take me," she whimpered, her eyes glazed with lust. "Make me scream your name."

The scent of her heat filled his nose, a sweet, musky aroma that made his mouth water. He could almost taste the slick leaking from her swollen sex, the sweetness of her arousal coating his tongue. His teeth clenched as he fought to keep from groaning out loud, his mind racing with the thought of her tight, wet warmth around his cock.

Spencer's hand tightened around his shaft, stroking faster as he imagined pushing into her, feeling her stretch to accommodate him. His body was taut with tension, his muscles coiled and ready to spring. The water cascaded down his body, mixing with the precum that leaked from the tip of his cock. He could feel the knot at the base of his shaft beginning to swell, the tightness spreading through him like a warm embrace.

The pressure grew unbearable, his hips bucking involuntarily as he chased the elusive release. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. He couldn't control his hips as he began fucking his fist, the rhythm frantic and desperate. The cold water did nothing to cool the heat that raged through him, the need to claim Y/N consuming every thought.

Suddenly, it was as if a dam had broken. Spencer let out a roar of a moan as he came, his knot popping through his tightened grip. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a white-hot wave that crashed over him, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. He leaned against the wall of the shower, his knees threatening to give out as the climax ripped through his body.

His cock continued to pulse, shooting ropes of cum that mingled with the water as it swirled down the drain. Each spurt brought a shiver of pleasure-pain, his body wrung out by the intensity of his release. The cold water had turned lukewarm, but it still felt like ice against his feverish skin. He gulped down lungfuls of air, trying to regain control of his racing heart. With his hand still wrapped around his sensitive length his body felt both relieved and utterly drained.

Finally, the last tremor passed, and Spencer stepped out of the shower, his legs wobbly. He grabbed a towel, the rough fabric scraping against his over-sensitized skin. He dried himself off enough to climb into bed, his body begging for rest. He collapsed onto the mattress, the coldness of the sheets a welcome contrast to his overheated body.

As he lay there, the images from his fantasy played on a loop in his mind, taunting him with what he couldn't have. The scent of his release hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of Y/N's heat that had somehow followed him into his room. He buried his face in the pillow, willing sleep to claim him, to dull the ache in his chest.

But the bed felt cold, empty without her. He tossed and turned, his body craving the warmth of her touch. His mind raced with the memories of their unspoken moments, the glances that spoke volumes, the gentle brushes of skin that had always seemed so innocent before. Now, they were a torment, a reminder of what could never be.

Finally, exhaustion claimed him, and he slipped into a dreamless sleep. It was a brief reprieve from the tumultuous emotions that raged within him, a quiet sanctuary where he could just be. But even in his unconsciousness, the scent of her heat lingered, teasing him, whispering sweet nothings that his subconscious yearned to believe.

The next morning, Spencer woke with a start, the weight of his need for Y/N still pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He took a deep breath, trying to push the images from his mind, but it was no use. He knew he had to end this case, not just for the sake of the victims, but for her.

With renewed determination, he dressed quickly and headed to the lobby. The scent of her heat was faint but still present, a constant reminder of the urgency of the situation. At the station, he bypassed the greetings and jostling of his colleagues, his eyes locked on the mountain of case files waiting for him.

Spencer's mind raced as he sifted through the evidence, his thoughts a whirlwind of patterns and motives. Every piece of the puzzle was a step closer to ending this nightmare, to being able to be there for Y/N without the shadow of the Unsub looming over them. His mind was a sharp blade slicing through the chaos, looking for the one thread that would unravel the entire case. The desire to claim her, to keep her safe and warm in his arms, fueled his every move.

Back at the hotel, Y/N's heat was steadily ramping up. She was still in the uncomfortable and flushed phase, her body sending out signals that she was ripe and ready to be claimed. The air in her room was thick with the sweet musk of her arousal, a scent that seemed to cling to every surface. She couldn't help but feel exposed, vulnerable, as the need grew stronger with each passing moment. Her thoughts strayed to Spencer, the way his eyes had darkened with hunger when he'd looked at her earlier, and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same primal pull that she did.

JJ, bless her, was blissfully oblivious to the internal battle raging within Y/N. They pored over the case files together, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N tried to focus on the words in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to the dream she'd had the night before. The way Spencer had claimed her, marked her as his own, was a tantalizing fantasy that played on repeat in her mind's eye. She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the insistent throb between her legs, the low-level buzz of need that grew stronger with every passing hour.

The hotel room felt stifling, the air charged with the scent of her heat. She knew it was only a matter of time before it became impossible to ignore, before her body demanded she seek out the strongest, most dominant to claim her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the scent grew stronger, her arousal a call that no one could ignore.

Y/N looked up at JJ, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know this isn't easy for you to see."

JJ's gaze was filled with understanding. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured her, her tone gentle. "It's just biology. But we need to make sure you're safe. Spencer would have my head if anything happened to you."

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flaming even hotter at the mention of Spencer. She had no doubt that he was feeling the same pull she was, but she didn't know if he felt the same way she did. The fear of rejection was a knot in her stomach, twisting tighter the more she thought about it.

They had to catch the Unsub before her heat grew too intense to ignore. The thought of going through this in front of the team was mortifying, but the fear of what could happen if they didn't catch the killer was far worse. Y/N knew her time was limited, and she hoped they could crack the case in the next 12 hours before her heat was in full swing making flying home no longer an option.

The walls of the hotel room felt like they were closing in on her, the air thick with the scent of her heat. She knew it was only a matter of time before every male in the vicinity would be drawn to her like moths to a flame. The thought of being claimed by a stranger, of being used and discarded, was a nightmare she couldn't shake.

Three hours had passed, and Y/N felt her concentration waning. The words on the case files swam before her eyes. A sudden ringtone pierced the silence, and JJ's phone lit up on the table.

Morgan's name flashed on the screen, and Y/N's heart leaped in her chest. "It's Derek," JJ said, her voice tight with anticipation as she answered the call.

"We've got him," Morgan's deep voice boomed through the speaker, the excitement palpable even over the phone line. "It's a local car mechanic, a guy named Charles Kessler. We're heading to his house now."

Y/N's heart raced. This could be it, the break they needed. JJ's eyes met hers, and she could see the same hope reflected in their depths. "Good work, Derek," JJ said, her voice tight. "We'll wait for your update."

As soon as she hung up, she turned to Y/N, her expression serious. "We need to get you home," she said, her voice low. "I'm calling for the jet to be on standby." Y/N nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Spencer, feeling the pressure of the clock ticking down, had thrown himself into the case with a ferocity that surprised even him. He'd been able to narrow down their suspect list, giving Garcia a manageable list of people to do a deep dive into. His mind was a whirlwind of data and instinct, each piece of information a thread in the tapestry of the killer's twisted mind.

"Got him," Garcia exclaimed over the phone. "It's Charles Kessler. He's got a history of assaults on omegas and his alibis for the murders are shaky at best."

With a flick of her wrist, Garcia sent the home and work addresses to the team's phones. The room was a flurry of movement as the agents grabbed their gear, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Hotch's voice was a low growl as he gave the order to split into two groups.

The first car, with Hotch at the wheel and Morgan riding shotgun, peeled out of the hotel parking lot, tires squealing as they headed for Kessler's workplace. Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss piled into the second car, their eyes locked on the GPS as they navigated the quiet streets toward his house. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the scent of anticipation and fear.

They arrived at a small, nondescript house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a sad-looking fence. The curtains were drawn, giving no clue to what lay within. Spencer took a deep breath, trying to clear his head of the cacophony of his thoughts.

Rossi took point, his hand on his gun, eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of life. Prentiss was right behind him, her expression a mask of determination, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them inside. Spencer brought up the rear, his mind racing with the details of the case, trying to anticipate the Unsub's next move.

They approached the house with caution, each step echoing in the stillness of the night. The door was unlocked, swinging open with a low creak that seemed to shatter the silence. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound their hushed breaths and the rustle of their clothing.

The trio split up, moving through the rooms with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Spencer's instincts screamed at him that Kessler wasn't here, but they had to be thorough. The emptiness of the house was almost a taunt, a silent challenge to their skills. Each room they cleared was a step closer to the inevitable disappointment that he wasn't here.

They found no signs of struggle, no evidence of a hasty retreat, just an eerie stillness that seemed to mock their urgency. The house was disorganized but not dirty, a testament to a life lived by a single man who clearly had issues with neatness.

Suddenly, Spencer's phone buzzed, interrupting the tense silence. It was Hotch's name on the screen, and he snatched it up, his heart racing. "We've got him," Hotch's voice was gruff. "We're bringing Kessler in now."

The relief was palpable, the air in the room seemed to change. Spencer's chest loosened, the tension draining from his muscles.

"We're on our way back," he said into the phone, his eyes scanning the room for any clue they might have missed.

As he ended the call, Emily's voice cut through the quiet. "Guys, come here," she called from the bathroom, her tone urgent.

Spencer and Rossi rushed in to find her standing by the sink. She pointed to the small, crimson smear that had dried around the drain. "It's blood," she murmured, her eyes wide with fear.

They couldn't believe their luck. A blatant clue, a smear of evidence that seemed almost too convenient. But in their line of work, they knew better than to question such fortune. They had seen cases unravel with less.

With haste, they called in the local forensics team to process the scene. He knew that the discovery of blood could be a pivotal moment, a chink in Kessler's armor that could be exploited to get a confession.

The three of them exchanged grim nods before retreating to the car, leaving the house to the white-suited technicians who would meticulously comb through every inch. The drive back to the station was tense, each lost in their own thoughts about what they had found. Spencer's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Charles Kessler.

Once back at the precinct, they found Hotch and Morgan waiting, the latter looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unharmed. The Unsub had been caught trying to flee his workplace, the same desperation that had led him to leave behind the incriminating evidence at his home.

Emily quickly filled Hotch in on their discovery, her voice low and urgent. Hotch's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he listened to her report. He knew the significance of that crimson smear, the potential it held for their case.

"Good work," he said, his voice tight. "I'll handle this. You three get the case files together and make sure everything's ready for the flight back. We need to tie this up as quickly as possible."

Emily nodded, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "Understood, Hotch." She turned to Spencer and Rossi, her eyes flicking to the door. "Let's move."

Hotch strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he made his way to the Chief's office. The urgency of the situation was not lost on him. They had a job to do, and they were leaving a member of their pack vulnerable. But the case was almost closed, and the Unsub was in custody. It was time to bring Y/N home.

He stepped into the Chief's office, the scent of stale coffee and paperwork hanging heavy in the air. The Chief looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and wariness at the sight of Hotchner's tense posture. "What's the status?" he barked, his eyes sharp.

Hotch took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "We've got him," he said, the words feeling both like a victory and a weight lifted. "Charles Kessler. We found blood at his place, and the local team is processing it now. I trust your officers can take it from here."

The Chief looked up, his eyes assessing Hotch's expression. "Your team is leaving?"

"Yes," Hotch confirmed, his jaw tight. "We have… a situation that requires our immediate attention back in Quantico."

The Chief leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "Is everything alright?"

Hotch nodded curtly. "We've made significant progress on the case, but we have a… personal situation back home that requires our attention." He couldn't bring himself to say more, not wanting to reveal the intimate details of his team's dynamics. The Chief studied him for a moment, then nodded understandingly.

"Very well, Agent Hotchner. I'll make sure everything is handled accordingly," he said, his tone softer than before. "Our team will take over the interrogation and processing of Mr. Kessler. You've provided excellent leads; I'm confident we'll get a confession and make sure he's behind bars for good."

Hotch nodded, his eyes never leaving the Chief's. "Thank you," he said, the weight of his words heavy with unspoken relief. He turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his team waiting for him outside.

The drive to the hotel was a blur, the tension in the car thick enough to slice through with a knife. Spencer's hand kept clenching and unclenching, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. He hadn't seen her since he had Emily drive her back to the hotel, and the need to be near her was almost overwhelming.

As they pulled into the hotel's lot, Spencer's eyes darted to the lobby, searching for any sign of her. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her walking out of the elevator, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the hotel lights.

Y/N looked up as the car approached, her eyes locking onto Spencer's. The air was thick with the scent of her heat, and he could see the exhaustion etched into her delicate features. She was a vision of vulnerability, and his protective instincts roared to life.

He barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before jumping out and rushing to her side. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and pain. "We need to go," she murmured, her voice low and thready.

The team didn't need to be told twice. They split off to their individual rooms, each one moving with the speed of a seasoned pro. The hallway was a blur of motion, doors opening and closing in rapid succession as they gathered their belongings.

The jet was waiting for them on the tarmac, its engines humming with the promise of escape from the hellish week they had endured. Before he could board, Hotch pulled Spencer aside, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "Spencer," he began, his voice low and gruff. "Are you sure you're okay flying with her like this?"

Spencer knew what he meant, the question hanging heavily in the air between them. The scent of Y/N's heat was a siren's call, a constant reminder of the primal urges that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath, trying to push the images of her wet and needy out of his mind. "I'll manage," he replied, his voice tight with the effort of control.

Hotch's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of weakness or doubt. Spencer's jaw clenched as he nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I've got it under control," he said firmly, his voice carrying the conviction of a man who had faced his inner demons and was determined not to let them win.

"Good," Hotch said, clapping a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Because I trust you, Reid. You know what's at stake here, and I know you'll do right by her." With that, he turned and headed towards the jet, leaving Spencer to his thoughts.

Spencer watched him go, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in his stomach. He knew what was expected of him, knew the lines he couldn't cross. But as he climbed the stairs to the jet, the scent of Y/N's heat grew stronger, and he felt maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head.

Y/N was laid out on the couch, her head in Emily's lap, her skin so heated and flushed she could feel it burning even through the fabric of her clothes. The air in the jet's cabom was stifling, thick with the scent of her heat, and she couldn't help but wish she could rip off every stitch and let the cool breeze from the air conditioner caress her overheated skin. Her eyes were closed, but the images from her dream played out behind her lids, a tantalizing dance of passion and submission that made her pulse race.

Emily's hand was a gentle, soothing presence on her forehead, stroking through her hair as she whispered reassurances. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice a soft lullaby in the otherwise silent cabin. "We're almost home."

Y/N's breaths were coming in short, shallow pants as she straddled Emily's lap. The pressure of the beta's body against her own was a comfort, a grounding force amidst the chaos of her raging hormones. Her nose was buried in Emily's neck, inhaling the comforting scent that the older woman was giving off.

Emily's hand stilled on her forehead, her eyes flicking to Spencer, who was sitting a few seats away. His knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests, his eyes locked on the floor. The tension in his body was almost tangible, the effort to maintain control evident in every line of his form.

The scent of Y/N's heat grew stronger with each passing minute, and Spencer felt his own body responding, a spontaneous rut approaching like a storm on the horizon. He knew the moment it hit, there would be no going back, no way to hide the raw, primal need that would consume him.

Ten minutes to Quantico. He could hold out, he had to. Spencer's eyes flicked to his watch, the seconds ticking away with cruel precision. The jet's cabin was a prison of his own making, the walls closing in around him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his eyes never leaving the floor.

But then he heard it, the soft whimper that seemed to pierce the silence like a bullet. Y/N's scent was a siren's call, and he couldn't ignore it anymore. His eyes snapped up, and his gaze locked onto the sight of her in Emily's lap. Her eyes were closed, her breaths coming in short, erratic gasps, and his heart clenched in his chest. He knew she was in pain, that her heat was reaching its peak, and the need to claim her, to be the one to ease her suffering, was a beast inside of him that was begging to be unleashed.

Suddenly, the plane jolted, and the sound of the engines changed pitch. He felt the bump of the jet landing back down on earth, the vibrations traveling through his body and up to his very core. The moment the plane stopped moving, Spencer was out the door, gulping down greedy breaths of fresh air. He could feel his mind beginning to clear, the fog lifting slightly as the scent of Y/N's heat grew cleared his system.

The team gathered their bags and disembarked, the tension in the air thick and palpable. Spencer's eyes remained glued to Y/N, his protective instincts on high alert. Walking towards the car, he couldn't help but notice the way she leaned into Emily, seeking comfort and relief from the unrelenting heat.

But Y/N had had enough. As the others pulled away in their cars, she stopped Emily, her voice firm. "I need to talk to Spencer," she said, her eyes pleading. Emily looked at her for a long moment, understanding dawning in her eyes. She nodded, giving Spencer a look that conveyed both her concern and her trust in him.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes searching Spencer's face. "Spencer," she began, her voice shaking. "I… I need to tell you something before…" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing a darker shade of red.

Spencer's eyes widened, his heart racing. He knew what was coming, the words she had been holding back for days now. "What is it?" he asked, his voice gruff with tension.

"I… I've been feeling this way for a while," Y/N began, her voice trembling. "And I don't want you to think it's just because of this heat." She took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes searching his for any sign of understanding.

Spencer's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. "What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Spencer, I…" she took a deep breath, her chest heaving with the effort. "I've liked you for a long time. And I need you to know it's not just the heat."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. He had hoped, dreamed even, that she felt the same, but hearing it out loud was like a punch to the gut. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. "Y/N," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know it's not just the heat. I've felt this way about you too, for so long."

Her eyes searched his, hope and fear mingling in their depths. "You have?" she whispered, her voice a soft caress against his skin.

Spencer nodded, his thumb still brushing away the tears that glistened on her cheeks. "More than you know," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. The words felt like a weight lifted from his chest, the truth of his feelings finally spoken aloud.

Y/N's eyes searched his, her breathing growing ragged. "Take me home," she begged, her voice a whisper. "Please, Spencer."

Spencer's hand tightened on her cheek, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice thick with the same need that was consuming her.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "More than anything," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Spencer took a step back, his hand falling away from her face. The distance was agonizing, but he knew they needed to talk, to understand each other's feelings and boundaries before giving in to the overwhelming pull of their biology. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked at Emily, her eyes wide with hope and fear. The beta met her gaze, her expression unreadable. But the moment she nodded, something in Y/N's chest unlocked. She turned back to Spencer, her breath hitching in her throat. "Emily knows," she admitted, her voice shaking. "I told her before we got on the jet."

Emily's eyes searched hers, a question in her gaze. "Is this what you really want?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving Spencer's. "More than anything," she whispered.

The tension between them was palpable as they walked to Spencer's car. His hand hovered near hers, but he didn't dare touch her, not yet. The drive back to her apartment was silent, filled only with the sound of their ragged breaths and the hum of the engine. Spencer's mind raced, trying to organize his thoughts, his body screaming at him to claim her, to make her his.

When they finally arrived, Spencer stepped out of the car, his eyes never leaving hers. He opened the door for her, his hand brushing against her arm as he helped her out. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the beast at bay.

The moment they walked through the door of her apartment, the dam broke. Y/N launched herself at him, her mouth crashing against his in a kiss that was desperate and needy. Spencer groaned, his arms wrapping around her automatically, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. His control slipped, the scent of her heat like a drug, making his body pulse with need.

He reluctantly pulled away, his chest heaving with the effort. "We need to get you taken care of first," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. He didn't trust himself to be near her without claiming her, without giving in to the urges that were consuming him.

Spencer turned away from her, walking through the apartment with purpose. Each step was a battle against the primal instinct to push her down and take her right there, but he knew that wasn't what she needed. Not yet. He checked each window, his eyes scanning the darkness outside, ensuring no unmated alphas could sense her scent. The need to protect her was stronger than his own need to claim her, and he wasn't going to let anyone else touch her, not now, not ever.

The doors were next, each lock clicking into place with a satisfying finality. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly with every barrier he put between her and the outside world. The apartment was small, but it was hers, and he would make it their fortress tonight.

In the kitchen, Spencer's eyes scanned the fridge and cabinets with a critical eye. He knew the depths of an omega's hunger during heat, and he wasn't taking any chances. He grabbed a notepad and scribbled a list of essentials: protein, carbs, water, and some of the sweet treats he knew she liked. They had to have enough to last them through the next couple of days, just in case.

As he turned to leave the kitchen, he found Y/N standing in the doorway, her eyes on him with a mix of longing and apprehension. The sight of her, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her clothes sticking to her body from the heat of her need, made his control waver. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff as he handed her a bottle of water. "You need to stay hydrated."

Y/N took the bottle, her hands trembling as she twisted the cap. She took a tentative sip, the cool liquid sliding down her throat like a balm. She watched as Spencer walked over to the thermostat, his eyes never leaving hers as he cranked the AC up to the maximum setting.

The cold air began to blow, feeling like heaven on her flushed skin. Goosebumps erupted along her arms and neck, but she didn't care. It was the first time in hours that she felt anything other than the suffocating heat of her own body. She closed her eyes, savouring the relief, her breaths coming out in shaky sighs.

When she opened them again, she found Spencer watching her, his eyes dark and hungry. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and she knew she couldn't bear the touch of her clothes anymore. Her fingers began to fumble with the buttons of her shirt, desperate to feel the coolness of the air on her bare skin.

"Let me," Spencer murmured, his voice thick with need. He stepped closer, his hands brushing hers aside as he carefully unbuttoned her shirt. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, the cool air washing over her skin like a balm.

Y/N's eyes remained locked on his as he unzipped her pants, his knuckles brushing against her feverish skin. Each touch was a spark, igniting the fire of desire that was already raging inside her. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric, her body trembling with anticipation.

Her clothes lay scattered around them, a testament to the urgency of the moment. Spencer's eyes raked over her, drinking in the sight of her nakedness. Her breasts were heavy with need, the peaks tight and sensitive, and she knew he could see the evidence of her arousal, the slickness that coated her thighs.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Y/N reached out and took Spencer's hand. He was a vision of restrained power, his own desire clear in the tension of his body. She tugged gently, and he followed her without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the bedroom.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Y/N's hunger took over. With a snarl of need, she yanked at Spencer's shirt, the fabric giving way under her frenzied touch. Buttons popped and flew in every direction, leaving a trail in their wake. Y/N's eyes raked over him, her hunger growing with every inch of skin revealed.

Spencer's eyes widened at the ferocity of her desire, his own need spiraling out of control. He reached for her, his hands trembling as he helped her rid him of his clothes. Her nails scraped against his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and he couldn't help the groan that tore from his throat.

Once they were both naked, the air in the room seemed to crackle with electricity. Spencer's eyes were drawn to the heat between her thighs, the slickness that gleamed in the soft light. He knew he had to be gentle, that she was in pain, but the need to claim her was a beast that was quickly taking over.

With a growl that was half desperation and half hunger, he dropped to his knees before her. His hands trembled as he spread her legs, the sight of her wet and swollen folds making his mouth water. Y/N's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him, her body taut with anticipation.

Spencer's tongue darted out, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, and she moaned, the sound echoing through the room. He lapped at her, slow and gentle, his tongue tracing the delicate line of her slit. The taste of her was intoxicating, a potent cocktail of need and desire that went straight to his head. He could feel the spontaneous rut he almost fell into come back in full force.

Her hips rocked against his mouth, urging him to go deeper, to claim her completely. He obeyed, sliding two fingers inside her tight, wet heat, curling them just so to hit that sweet spot that had her crying out his name. Spencer's eyes never left her as he worked her over, his mouth worshiping her, his teeth grazing her clit just enough to make her squirm.

And then she whispered it, the word that set his soul on fire. "Mate," she whimpered, her voice thick with need. The word sent a bolt of pure, animalistic lust through him, and he knew he could hold out no longer. He had to claim her, to make her his in every way possible.

With a growl that was more animal than human, Spencer stood, his cock thick and heavy with need. He could feel the rut fully taking over, the need to knot and breed her driving him to the brink of madness. Y/N's eyes were glazed with heat, her pupils blown wide as she watched him, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

Spencer's hand was at the back of her neck before he could think, his thumb pressing into the sensitive spot that sent a shiver down her spine. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice thick with need.

Y/N's eyes snapped to his, the reality of what she had just said crashing over her. But the need was too great, the heat too intense. "Mate," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Spencer's eyes darkened, the word echoing in his mind like a siren's call. He knew what it meant, what it signified. The bond between a mated pair was sacred, unbreakable. And here she was, offering it to him, begging for it. He didn't dare hope, didn't dare believe she truly knew what she was saying.

But the scent of her, the desperate need in her voice, it was all too real. He could feel the rut taking over, his body demanding he claim her, make her his in every way. He took a step closer, his cock pressing against her thigh, the heat of her skin almost unbearable. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice a hoarse growl. "Do you know what you're asking for?"

Her eyes searched his, and she nodded, the desperation in them unmistakable. "I need you," she whimpered, her voice breaking on the words. "Please, Spencer."

Spencer felt something primal stir within him, something that had been lying dormant for so long. He had always known he was a delta, a protector, a nurturer, but hearing her beg for him like this, it brought out an alpha energy he never knew he had. He wanted to claim her, to make her his in every way possible.

With a gentle but firm grip, Spencer guided Y/N to the bed, her legs wobbly with need. He watched as she lay back, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She looked just like the woman in his dreams, the one he had fantasized about countless times, her body begging for his touch, for his claim.

He hovered over her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her. The scent of her heat was intoxicating, calling out to his soul. His cock was rock-hard, the tip slick with pre-cum as it grazed her slit.

"Need… your knot, Delta," she gasped, the words coming out in choppy breaths. "Please… fill me."

The primal plea was all Spencer needed to hear. With a roar that was half-relief and half-desire, he thrust into her, filling her to the brink. Y/N's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his back as she begged for more.

He held her down, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had her crying out in ecstasy. The feel of her tight around him was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the warmth of her body enveloping him, the slickness of her arousal making every stroke pure bliss.

Y/N's nails raked down Spencer's back, leaving a trail of red in their wake. She wanted to scream out in relief at finally being filled, finally feeling the full force of his desire for her. Her legs tightened around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she urged him deeper, harder.

Spencer groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of her pussy gripping him so tightly. He had never felt anything so good, so right in his entire life. And then she started nipping at his throat, her teeth grazing his skin. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through him, making his cock pulse inside her.

"Spencer," she moaned, her voice thick with need. "Make me yours."

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, the gravity of her words sinking in. He knew what she was asking, the full implication of it. To claim an omega during heat was to form a bond that was unbreakable, a promise of forever. He felt his heart swell with love and possessiveness at the thought.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I need to hear you say it."

Her eyes searched his, the depth of her need reflected in their dark pools. "What?" she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation.

"I need you to say it," Spencer murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need to know you truly want this, that you want me to claim you as my mate."

Her eyes searched his, the depth of her need unmistakable. "I do," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want you to bite me, Spencer. I want you to claim me."

The words were like a catalyst, igniting the beast within him. With a snarl of pure need, Spencer leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. His teeth grazed her lower lip, and she shivered, her hips arching up to meet his. He could feel the moment she was ready, her body begging for the bite that would seal their bond.

With one hand braced against the headboard, Spencer's other hand slid down to her neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point that hammered against her skin. He watched as she closed her eyes, her body going taut with anticipation. His mouth hovered over her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

He felt her body tighten around him as he bit down, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck. She cried out, her nails digging into his back as the sensation of his claim shot through her. The pain was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

Her orgasm exploded through her, a supernova of sensation that left her seeing stars. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her muscles spasming around his cock as she rode the wave of ecstasy. The bond flared to life between them, a golden thread that connected their hearts, their souls, forever intertwined.

Spencer's hips stuttered as he felt the bite of her orgasm, her tight pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. He knew he was close, so close to filling her with his knot, to claiming her completely. With a snarl, he grabbed her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he lifted her legs. He folded her in half, the head of his cock teasing her swollen entrance as he looked down at her.

"Knot me," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, Spencer."

Her words were like a command, and Spencer couldn't hold back any longer. He thrust into her with everything he had, his cock swelling with the promise of his knot. Y/N's eyes went wide as she felt the pressure build, the anticipation making her pant with need.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her head as he brought her face to his neck. His pulse thrummed beneath her lips, a silent invitation. She didn't hesitate, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh, marking him as hers just as he had marked her.

The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent him over the edge. Spencer felt his knot swell, the pressure building until it was all he could focus on. He slammed into her, his body moving on instinct alone.

And then it was there, the sweet, tight heat of her pussy clamping down around his knot, the feeling of her body accepting him completely. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he rut into her, the friction of her walls around him sending him spiraling into the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced.

Y/N's eyes widened as she felt spurt after spurt of his cum fill her up, the heat of it branding her from the inside out. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever known, a fullness that was both overwhelming and incredibly satisfying. She moaned, her hips moving in time with his, her body eager to take every drop he had to give.

Their movements slowed, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Spencer's knot was still lodged deep inside her, his cock pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. Y/N could feel the warmth of his seed filling her, the feeling of completeness washing over her in waves. The intense need that had consumed her only moments ago had subsided, leaving in its wake a deep, sated contentment.

With a gentle sigh, Spencer manoeuvred them onto their side, his knot still buried within her, unwilling to let go just yet. He stroked her cheek softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had fallen unnoticed during their passionate union. His eyes searched hers, filled with a tenderness that took her breath away.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N nodded, her eyes still locked on his, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. "More than okay," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams of pleasure. "I've never felt like this before."

Spencer's hand tightened around her, his heart racing from the intensity of their bonding. "Me neither," he admitted, his voice just as rough. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his love for her shining in his eyes. "You're mine now, Y/N. I'll always protect you, always be here for you."

The words sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with her heat. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "And you're mine," she murmured, her voice filled with the same fierce possessiveness.

Spencer chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He kissed her softly, savouring the feel of her lips against his. "Always," he promised, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the minutes ticked by, Spencer felt the pressure of his knot begin to recede. The bond between them was still new, the connection still pulsing with energy. He could feel her body relaxing around him, the tightness of her heat giving way to a gentle, pulsing ache that reminded him of the bond they had just formed.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his. The need in her eyes was unmistakable, and Spencer felt his own body respond in kind. Her heat was just beginning, and she was ready to go again. He couldn't believe it, but his cock was already thickening again, eager to be inside her once more.

With a gentle smile, Spencer kissed her softly, his thumb stroking the claim mark on her neck. "Shh," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Let me love you properly this time."

He pulled away slowly, his knot slipping out of her with a wet pop that made them both gasp. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, sprawled out on the bed, her body flushed and sweaty, her eyes glazed with passion. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. She was beautiful, and she was his.

Their bodies were still connected by the invisible thread of their bond, the warmth of it pulsing between them like a living thing. Spencer felt his rut begin to ebb, the primal need to claim her giving way to a more gentle, loving desire. He knew he could go again, and he knew she needed it. But this time, he was going to take his time.

He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was sweet and tender. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and hollow with reverence. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body arching into him, begging for more.

Spencer's lips trailed down her neck, his teeth nipping at the claim mark he had left earlier. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. His mouth moved lower, kissing and licking her collarbone, his tongue tracing the line of her sternum.

Her breaths grew shallower as he approached her breasts, the anticipation of his touch making her nipples harden. Spencer took his time, savouring the taste of her skin, the scent of their mating still lingering in the air. When he finally reached her breasts, he took one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

Y/N's back arched off the bed, her hands tangling in his hair as she held him closer. He took his time, switching between each breast, his teeth grazing her tender flesh before his mouth closed around the other nipple. She gasped, her body trembling with the sensation.

His hand slid down her body, his fingers finding her clit, stroking it in a slow, torturous rhythm that had her panting and writhing beneath him. Y/N could feel the pleasure building, a crescendo that threatened to consume her. It was different this time, more intense, more intimate.

Spencer watched her face, his eyes dark with desire as he played her body like an instrument. His fingers slipped lower, coating themselves in her slickness. He teased her, his digit hovering just outside, the anticipation driving her wild.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, her body tensing as Spencer's fingers slid through her plump folds before sinking a single finger into her. The sensation was exquisite, sending a shiver down her spine. He watched her face intently, the pleasure etched across her features like a map to paradise. Her breath hitched as he touched her, his eyes never leaving her.

He marveled at the way her body responded to him, her walls clenching around his digit as if trying to pull him deeper. Spencer's own breath grew ragged as he slid in and out of her, watching the way her slickness coated his hand. The sight was mesmerizing, a testament to the depth of her need, her desire for him.

With a gentle push, he added another finger, stretching her slowly. Her grip on his hair tightened, her hips bucking up to meet his hand. He felt her muscles contract around him, her body begging for more. He could feel her building to another peak, her breaths coming faster and faster.

Spencer's mouth returned to her breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he suckled. Y/N's body responded with a jolt of pleasure, her hips rolling against his hand. He could feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around his fingers.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple, the taste of her skin making him growl with desire. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. Spencer knew she was close, the tension in her body almost tangible. He felt his own need rising again, his cock hardening with each whimper she made.

But he needed more. He needed to taste her slick, to devour the essence of her desire. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The scent of her arousal was making his mouth water and his cock ache with need.

When his tongue finally reached her folds, she gasped, her hips jolting upward. He took his time, savouring the sweet flavour of her heat. Spencer lapped at her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, teasing it with gentle strokes. Her legs quivered, her body begging for more.

Her thighs tightened around his head, trapping him in a prison of pure ecstasy. He didn't mind, though; he was exactly where he wanted to be. His nose buried in her scen. He could feel her getting closer, her body tightening around his digits. Spencer's tongue danced around her clit, the musky sweetness of her arousal coating his taste buds. He groaned, his own cock jerking with need.

Her hips began to rock against his face, her breaths coming in ragged pants. Spencer swiped his tongue through her folds, collecting her slick on his taste buds. The taste was exquisite, a flavor that was uniquely hers, and it had him craving more.

As Y/N's climax built, her body tightened around his fingers, her muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of need. Spencer felt the first tremor of her orgasm, the way her walls fluttered around his digits. The sound she made was one of pure bliss, a keening cry that sent a bolt of desire straight to his cock.

When she finally came, it was like watching a star explode. Her body arched off the bed, her back bowing as she screamed his name. The feeling of her pussy clamping down on his fingers was almost too much, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Her walls contracted around him, squeezing him in a rhythmic pulse. Y/N felt her pleasure wash over her in waves, her release a warm, wet embrace that seemed to resonate through every fibre of her being.

Spencer watched her come undone, his eyes dark with desire. He didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to keep her pleasure at its peak. Y/N's body was a symphony of sensation, and he was her maestro.

When her climax finally subsided, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving. Spencer pulled away, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her. Her legs fell open, giving him a perfect view of her glistening pussy, and he couldn't help but admire his handiwork.

He kissed his way back up her body, feeling the heat of her skin against his lips. When he reached her neck, he kissed the claim mark tenderly before pulling back to look into her eyes. "Ready for more?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed with desire. "Yes, mate," she breathed, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, need you to fill me with your cum."

Spencer's cock swelled with need at her words, the base of his shaft already beginning to thicken. He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together as he positioned himself at her entrance. He could feel her heat, her pussy begging for him, the slickness of her arousal coating his cock as he pushed inside her.

Being back in her felt like heaven. The warm, tight embrace of her body was like coming home after a long, hard day. The way she took him in, her walls clenching around him as if she never wanted to let go, was a feeling he could never get enough of.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. His rut was still strong, but he knew he had to be gentle. He had already taken her hard once, and she needed to be cherished now. His hips rolled slowly, pushing into her with a deliberate rhythm that had her crying out for more.

He watched her face as he moved, the way her eyes rolled back in her head, the way her lips parted in a silent moan. It was intoxicating, knowing he could reduce her to this state of pure, unbridled passion. He felt the base of his shaft swell again, the need to knot her rising once more. But he held back, his thrusts measured and deep.

Y/N's nails scraped down his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him to go faster. Spencer growled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he fought the urge to give in to his instincts. He knew he had to be careful with her, to not overwhelm her with his own needs. His hands gripped her hips, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin as he pushed into her with every ounce of control he had left.

He watched himself disappear into her pussy, the sight of his cock disappearing into her tight, wet heat making his knees tremble. It was like watching a painting come to life, every stroke a masterpiece of passion and need. The way she took him, her body moulding around him like a glove.

Spencer felt his knot swell, the beginnings of it teasing her hole as he pushed in deeper. He could see the anticipation in her eyes, the way she bit her bottom lip as she waited for the knot to catch.

Her walls quivered around him, and he knew she was close again. He leaned down, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her neck. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and needy. "Mine to love, mine to protect, mine to breed."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, and she clamped down on his cock, her pussy spasming around his length. Spencer couldn't hold back anymore. With a roar, he slammed into her, his knot swelling to fill her completely.

Y/N felt the heady fullness as he locked them together, her body trembling with the intensity of it all. His seed flooded her, hot and thick, filling her up until she thought she might burst. It was a feeling like no other, a claim so primal and complete that it left her feeling utterly and completely owned.

Her pussy clenched around his knot, trying to pull him deeper, to keep him with her forever. Spencer groaned, his own orgasm tearing through him like a hurricane. He could feel her muscles working him, her body begging for his seed, for the life they could create together.

Y/N's legs tightened around his waist, her ankles locking together as she held him close. Her walls fluttered around his cock, milking him with a fierce need that mirrored his own.

As the storm of passion abated, they lay there, intimately locked together, panting heavily. Spencer's knot was still embedded deep within her, the warmth of his cum filling her up, the aftershocks of their shared climax pulsing through them both.

Exhaustion began to seep into Spencer's limbs, his muscles feeling like overstretched elastic. His eyes closed, and his breathing grew deeper, the scent of their mating still heavy in the air. Y/N's body felt boneless, her strength drained from the intensity of their union. Her eyes remained closed, savouring the feeling of his weight pressing her into the mattress.

Sleep claimed them, a gentle reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions, sensations, and hormones that had consumed them. Their bodies remained intertwined, Spencer's knot still swollen within her, a physical reminder of the bond they had formed. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room, a comforting white noise that soothed their overstimulated bodies.

Y/N awoke later in the night, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of their intense mating. Despite the hours that had passed, the heat of her need hadn't waned. Her hand slid down to Spencer's side, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Her fingers found their way to his cock, already half-hard with the promise of what was to come. She smirked, feeling a sense of power in knowing she could stir him from sleep with just a touch. Carefully, she slid her body down the bed, her mouth watering at the thought of his taste.

Y/N wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the warm velvet of his skin against her palm. She leaned in, her breath hot against his cock as she took the tip into her mouth. Spencer stirred but didn't wake, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt the wet heat of her mouth envelop him.

Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting the remnants of their love making still lingering there. She took him deeper, her throat tightening around his length, her eyes watering slightly from the effort. Spencer's breathing grew more erratic, his body moving slightly with each stroke of her mouth.

She bobbed her head, taking him in as far as she could, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of salt and musk that had her craving more. Her other hand stroked his thigh, feeling the tension coil tighter and tighter with each pass.

Spencer's hips began to move, his body responding to the pleasure she was giving him without fully waking. Y/N took it as a sign to continue, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. She could feel his knot swelling, a gentle reminder of the way he claimed her. The thought made her core ache, her heat flaring up once more.

With a final suck, she pulled away, her eyes meeting his. He was awake now, his gaze dark with desire. "I need you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her earlier screams.

Spencer's eyes flashed with understanding, his hand reaching for her. "You have me," he murmured, pulling her closer. He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together in a silent conversation of love and need.

With a gentle push, he had her on all fours, her ass in the air, her pussy glistening with her slick. The sight of her like this, so vulnerable and open to him, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through him. He felt his cock swell, the urge to claim her again almost overwhelming.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He traced her spine with his fingertips, watching as goosebumps pebbled her skin. Spencer took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, his cock bobbing with need as he lined himself up with her entrance.

With a gentle push, he slid into her, the slickness of her pussy making it easy. Y/N gasped, her body stretching to accommodate him once more. The feeling of fullness was addictive, a warm embrace that had her hips rocking back to meet him. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his blood pulsing with the need to claim her again.

He wrapped his hand around her hip, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he began to move. His hips met hers in a steady rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Y/N's moans grew louder, her voice a symphony of pleasure that had Spencer's cock swelling even more.

He didn't hold back this time, letting his instincts take over as he claimed her in the most primal way possible. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, his cock pounding into her with a ferocity that had her panting and begging for more. Her ass jiggled with each impact, the sensation of his knot teasing her with every retreat and plunge.

Spencer's grip on her flesh was tight, his fingers digging into her soft curves as he pulled her back into each stroke. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate through the walls.

He felt the slickness of her pussy coating his cock as he drove into her, her moans music to his ears. Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more primal and needy than the last. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the world around them shattered.

Y/N's scream was a guttural sound of pure ecstasy as he hit her G-spot with a precision that made her toes curl. Her walls clamped down around him, the sensation so intense she thought she might pass out. The pleasure was like nothing she had ever felt before, a supernova that consumed her from the inside out.

Her pussy clenched around Spencer's cock, the muscles contracting in a vice-like grip. He felt her orgasm building, the way her body was responding to his touch. It was like watching a time-lapse of a flower blooming, beautiful and mesmerizing.

With a sudden jolt, Y/N's pussy spasmed, and she squirted, the warm, wetness of her release coating his cock. Spencer's eyes went wide with shock and pleasure, the sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was like a dam had burst, her arousal spraying onto him in a testament to the intensity of her climax.

He didn't stop, his hips moving faster, his cock swelling even more as he felt the beginnings of his knot. The pressure was intense, almost painful, but the thought of being trapped inside her, of filling her with his seed, had him panting with need.

Spencer slammed into her, his knot finally locking into place with a satisfying pop. Y/N screamed, her body jolting as she felt the fullness. Her pussy spasmed around him, her walls clenching in an attempt to hold him in place.

They remained like that for a moment, both lost in the intensity of their union. Then, with a gentle tug, Spencer laid her down on her side, his cock still buried deep within her. He reached out with one hand, his thumb finding her clit, and began to tease the sensitive bud in a slow, steady rhythm.

Y/N's body arched, the feeling of his knot deep inside her combined with the pressure on her clit was almost too much. She could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, a storm brewing on the horizon of pleasure. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream as he worked her body like a finely tuned instrument.

With his free hand, Spencer reached up to tease and pinch her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot straight to her core, her pussy clenching around his cock in response. He watched her reaction with a dark smile as he continued to manipulate her sensitive peak.

Her breaths grew shallower, her hips moving restlessly against his knot. "Again," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. Spencer was more than happy to oblige, his thumb flicking over her clit faster, the pad of his thumb pressing down just enough to drive her wild.

Her hand reached up to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds of her pleasure. Y/N's eyes met his, a silent plea for more, for the release that was just out of reach. Spencer leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

He knew he was playing with fire, but the thrill of watching her lose control was too great to resist. He pinched her nipple slightly harder, feeling the peak tighten under his touch. Her response was immediate, her pussy clamping down around his knot in a delicious rhythm that had his balls drawing up tight.

"Please," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut, "please, Spencer."

Her pleas only served to spur him on. He knew exactly what she needed, what she craved. He pinched her nipple a little harder, watching as her back arched and her hips bucked into his. The sensation of her silky heat gripping his knot was driving him wild, he needed to feel her come apart around him once more.

His thumb continued to work her clit, the pressure increasing with each pass. Y/N could feel the tension coiling in her belly, the tightness in her chest that signaled her impending release. Her hand fell away from her mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

Spencer watched her face contort with ecstasy. He knew she was close, could feel it in the way her pussy was pulsing around his knot. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Come for me, my love."

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and he knew she was there. With one last pinch to her nipple and a hard flick of his thumb against her clit, she shattered. Y/N's body convulsed in his arms, her pussy clamping down so hard on his cock that he had to bite back a shout of his own. Her orgasm washed over them both, a tsunami of pleasure that left them both gasping for air.

They lay there for a few moments, panting and sweaty, basking in the afterglow of their shared climax. Y/N's eyes remained closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she felt the last tremors of pleasure fade. Spencer's hand stroked her hair, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on her forehead as he watched her relax.

Spencer's knot grew smaller, slipping out of her with a wet pop. He felt the loss of her warmth acutely, but he knew she needed a moment to recover. Carefully, he pulled out of her, his cock still half-hard and glistening with their combined juices.

Y/N's body felt sore but satiated, her limbs like jelly. She could feel the stickiness between her legs, the evidence of their passion. She looked up at Spencer, her eyes filled with love and contentment. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice still thick with arousal. "For being here with me."

Spencer's smile grew, his eyes soft with affection. "Always," he assured her, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through her entire being. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Y/N pressed her nose into his neck, inhaling deeply. Spencer's scent was intoxicating, a mix of sweat and musk that made her hips rock back and forth, searching for friction against his thigh. His arms tightened around her, his own arousal evident as his cock began to harden once more.

"Again?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his, her need as potent as the scent of her heat that still lingered in the air. Spencer's cock was already beginning to swell again, the thought of being claimed once more making her body ache.

He rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply. His hands roamed over her body, relearning every curve and dip, his fingers tracing the lines of her hips before moving to cup her breasts. He felt the weight of them in his palms, the softness of her skin. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and she gasped into his mouth, her body arching towards him.

The digital clock on the bedside table read 3:14 AM, the red numbers glowing against the darkness of the room. The only other light was the soft glow of the moon filtering through the crack in the curtains, casting shadows across the bed. But they were not thinking of the time. Right now, all that mattered was the primal connection that had been forged between them.

Spencer's kiss grew more urgent, his hands moving to her thighs, pushing them apart as he settled himself between them. He could feel the warmth of her heat, the slickness of her desire. His cock, still sensitive from their previous mating, the tip brushing against her folds.

Y/N's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The pressure was almost unbearable, the need to have him inside her once more was overwhelming. Spencer groaned, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip before he broke the kiss. He took a moment to look down at her, his eyes dark with lust.

Her heat was still riding her hard, the pheromones in the air thick and potent. The scent of their mating lingered on their skin, a heady aroma that only served to fuel the fire between them. Y/N reached down, her hand guiding his cock to her entrance. The anticipation was a sweet torture, her body quivering with need.

With a low groan, Spencer pushed into her, his cock sliding through her slick folds with ease. She was so wet for him, so welcoming, her pussy clenching around him as he filled her up.

Y/N thrust her hips up desperately, the need to feel his knot inside her overwhelming. She needed to be claimed again, to be flooded with his seed, to have him mark her as his own. The intensity of her desire was like a living creature, clawing at her from the inside out, demanding to be sated.

With surprising strength fueled by her heat, she flipped their positions, straddling Spencer's hips. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she lined herself up with his cock, his eyes widening in shock and arousal. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance, and she took a deep breath before sliding down onto him, her pussy stretching around his thickness.

Her hips began to move, bouncing on his cock as fast as her thighs allowed. Each downward motion sent a jolt of pleasure through her body, the friction against her swollen clit making her eyes roll back in her head. Spencer's hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he watched her ride him.

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to echo through every corner of the hotel suite. Spencer's hips jumped up to meet hers, his eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of her pussy swallowing his cock. The tightness, the wetness, the way she took him so eagerly.

Y/N's breath was coming in harsh pants, her chest heaving with each thrust. She could feel her orgasm building once more, the pressure growing with each passing second. Spencer's eyes were glued to her, his own arousal clear in his gaze. He watched her with a mix of amazement and need.

"Spencer," she moaned, her voice a desperate whine. "I need your knot. I want to carry your child." The words seemed to hang in the air, a declaration of her deepest desires. She knew it was risky, that they weren't ready for a child, but the heat had taken control of her body, her mind.

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his pupils dilating with the realization of what she was asking. The words hung in the air, a declaration of the deepest kind of bonding. Despite the urgency of her heat, the implications of her words hit him like a sledgehammer. He knew the risks, the responsibility that came with it, but the raw, primal need to claim her, to fill her with his seed, was stronger than his reservations.

For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing. Y/N was on birth control shots, a fact he had overheard in one of her casual conversations with JJ, Emily, and Garcia. But the thought of her round with his pup, their child growing inside her, was too tempting to resist. The idea of her carrying his offspring, of them starting a family, was more than he could ever have hoped for.

With a snarl of need, Spencer gave into the fantasy, his hips bucking up to meet hers The idea of her carrying his pup was too tempting to ignore. He could almost feel the warmth of a new life growing inside her, the bond that would tie them together forever.

"Spencer," Y/N begged, her walls tightening around him. "Knot me, please."

Spencer knew that he couldn't actually get her pregnant at this moment, but the desperation in her voice, the way she pleaded for him, it was too much to resist. He leaned back, allowing her to take control of their rhythm, her hips moving with an animalistic grace that had him growling. The beginnings of his knot was just visible, and she slammed down onto him, her body hungry for the fullness it promised.

He watched as the base of his cock began to swell, the tip of his knot just breaching her entrance. Y/N's eyes went wide, and she threw her head back. The sensation was addicting, the feeling of being filled so completely.

Spencer's knot grew thicker, stretching her to the limits of her ability. She could feel her pussy clench around it, trying to draw him deeper. Her slick was leaking onto his pelvis, the silky feeling of it helping his cock glide in and out of her with ease. Her movements grew erratic, her hips moving with a wild abandon that had them both moaning.

"Fuck me, Spencer," she panted, her eyes glazed over with need. "Breed me, fill me with your cum. I want to feel you knot me, I want to carry your pup." Spencer's eyes widened, his breath hitching at the graphic words spilling from her lips.

The thought of her tight pussy taking his knot was driving him wild. He could feel the swell of his cock, the beginnings of his own orgasm building. "You want to be bred, don't you?" He watched her nod, her eyes never leaving his. "You want me to fill you up, to claim you as mine?"

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words as she felt the pressure of his knot against her pussy. "Yes," she moaned, her voice breathless. "I want it, Spencer. I need it."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, his teeth bared in a feral smile. "You're going to take all of me," he growled, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Every inch, until you're screaming for more."

Y/N's eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown wide with desire. She reached down, her fingers slipping through her slick folds to find her clit. The first touch sent a shockwave through her body, and she gasped, her hips jolting. Spencer watched with rapt attention as she began to rub herself in time with her movements, her fingers circling the sensitive bud with increasing speed.

Her walls began to pulse around his cock, the tightness growing with each pass of her fingers. She was close, so close, and Spencer could feel it. The sight of her touching herself, her need for release, was almost more than he could handle.

With a snarl, Spencer's hips shot up, slamming her down onto his cock, forcing his knot into her tight pussy. Y/N's eyes went wide with pleasure, her mouth forming a silent 'O' of surprise. The pressure was intense, but she didn't fight it. Instead, she leaned into it, her body begging for more.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, the sensation of his knot filling her pushing her over the edge. Her pussy clenched around him, the muscles tightening in a vice-like grip that had him groaning. Spencer could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, her juices spilling out around his knot as she came.

Y/N's nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Spencer's cock throbbed with each spurt of cum. He could feel the heat of it, the pressure in his balls as they tightened and drew up.

"Oh, Spencer," she moaned, her voice a sultry whisper. "I feel so full." Her pussy pulsed around his knot, her walls clenching as she continued to milk him for every drop of cum. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his hips jerking involuntarily as he emptied himself into her.

Y/N's hands moved to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Your knot," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "It's so big, so perfect." Her hips rocked against him, her body desperate for more friction, more pleasure.

Spencer watched her with a fierce possessiveness, his hand moving to rest on her flat stomach. "Imagine it," he said, his voice low and thick with desire. "Imagine me filling you with my pup." The thought was overwhelming, the idea of her carrying his child, a part of him inside her forever.

Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his hand on her skin. She could almost feel the phantom warmth of a growing pup, a symbol of their bond, their love. "I want that, Delta," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I want to carry your pup."

Spencer's gaze grew soft, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "And I want that too," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her stomach in a tender caress. The thought of her carrying his child was so potent, so powerful, that it made his chest ache.

Y/N leaned down, her breasts pressing into his chest as she kissed him softly. Her breath was hot and sweet against his skin, and he could feel the tremors of her aftershocks running through her body. The scent of their mating was thick in the air, a heady aroma that seemed to cocoon them in their own private world.

With a contented sigh, she lowered herself onto him, her body slick with sweat and desire. Spencer's cock remained buried deep within her, his knot still swollen. The pressure was delicious, a constant reminder of their union. She nuzzled into his neck, her purrs of pleasure vibrating against his skin.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as he stroked her back. His fingertips traced patterns across her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Y/N's eyes closed, her body going limp with satisfaction. She could feel the warmth of his body seeping into her, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

Her mind was a haze of contentment, the fiery passion of her heat leaving her feeling like she was floating on a cloud. She was fully claimed by Spencer, his knot still nestled inside her, a constant reminder of their mating. The sensation was oddly comforting, a bond that went deeper than any words could ever express.

Y/N's body was boneless, her muscles relaxed to the point of near paralysis. Each breath she took was filled with Spencer's scent, his warmth enveloping her like a cozy blanket on a cold winter's night. Her mind was a haze of contentment, the intensity of her heat mellowing into a gentle buzz of satisfaction. The world around her was a soft, fuzzy blur, the only sharpness coming from the occasional twinge of pleasure as his knot shifted within her.

The stroking of Spencer's hand on her back grew slower, the gentle circles lulling her closer and closer to the edge of sleep. Her eyes grew heavy, her eyelids fluttering shut as she gave in to the comfort he offered. The feeling of his seed filling her was strange and exhilarating.

Her breathing grew even, matching the rhythm of his hand, as she drifted off into a doze. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, not just from the aftermath of their mating, but from the love she felt for Spencer. It was a feeling she hadn't known existed before this moment, but now it seemed to envelop her entirely.

Spencer's mind, however, remained active. As she fell asleep in his arms, he found his thoughts wandering to the practicalities of the morning. He knew that her heat would last for a few more days, and he had to ensure she was comfortable and safe. The urge to keep her close was strong, but he had to balance that with his responsibilities.

With a sigh, he realized that he would have to call Hotch in the morning. He knew the conversation wouldn't be easy, but as he looked down at Y/N, he found that he wasn't worried. The bond between them was strong, a truth that transcended the constraints of their professional lives.

Spencer felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He knew that he had made the right choice in claiming her, regardless of the potential repercussions. The connection they shared was more than just physical; it was a meeting of minds and hearts that had been building up since the first day.

He looked down at her peaceful face, the soft glow of the moonlight highlighting her features. Her long eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, her breathing even and content. Spencer knew that what they had just shared was more than just the animalistic mating driven by her heat cycle. It was a declaration of something deeper, something that had been simmering between them for a long time.

Whatever the future held, Spencer was certain that they would face it together. The thought brought a warmth to his chest that was more potent than the post-orgasmic bliss. He knew that their bond was unbreakable, forged in the heat of passion and sealed with the promise of a future filled with love and a family of their own.

With that thought giving him comfort, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. His hand remained on her back, his fingers idly tracing patterns that she would never feel in her sleep. Yet, it was a silent promise that he was there, that he would always be there for her.

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 years ago

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Plastic hearts - (7)

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Had some extra time, wrote the next chapter haha. Ken is a golden retriever lover boy ✨

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“It's simple. Go through the ‘tunnel of dreams’. It will take you to where she had gone last.”, Weird Barbie stopped as she dug through her trunk of gizmos and gadgets.

“Then?”, he asked sure that was only the first step.

“Then you improvise.”, she spoke as she brought him a few elements that looked like they were put together by herself.

She strapped a watch around his hand, it’s dial displaying a meter that was scribbled in with sketch pens.

“The Doomsday meter. It will help you with knowing how much time you have left since time behaves differently out there.”, she rushed around him as she spoke out instructions and what to look out for but he couldn’t help but wonder how any of this was going to pan out.

He worried for your safety. He was overthinking, cooking up the most terrifying scenarios of what you could have been facing.

What if you were put in jail like he was?

Or roamed the streets without a home?

This was new. He had never worried about Stereotypical Barbie before, but when he thought of you. His hands yearned to hold you close.

Possibly this was because of the level of respect he had for you and your friendship. He can’t be falling in love again so soon. Can he?

He never felt this stressed and calm at the same time when he was in love before. It was thrilling, exhausting and chaotic.

He brought his attention back to the problem at hand. He had to bring you home. Barbie land was on the verge of collapse.

Weird Barbie ran back to him with a shiny little trinket in her hand. A chain with a small crystal heart pendant. It looked ancient and different. It wasn’t a part of this world.

“Thank Mattel, I found this. They discontinued it long ago but it was around the same time Diamond Castle was released. This is a variant of that necklace.”, she held it as though it was sacred.

“What’s so special about it?”, he asked inspecting it closer.

“This is as close as you can get to a magical compass.”, she raised her eyebrows to then carefully place it in the middle of his palm.

“How well do you know her?”, she asked him with her fingers crossed.

“Well enough.”, he mumbled.

He knew you but he couldn’t remember any of it. He had known you in fragments but now it was replaced with an overwhelming need to just see you again. To want to tell you that he missed you.

“Perfect.”, she jumped, her eyes now borderline crazy with hope.

“Now close your fingers and think of one remarkable attribute she possessed that could never change with time or place.”, she rubbed her hands together, her eyes now focused on the trinket hidden in his hand.

He closed his fingers and thought of the one thing he knew best that could never ever change. The one thing that reminded him he was loved and cared for. The one thing that possessed the entirety of your love he didn’t have a chance to value.

So he thought about it. So much so that he could feel his body crave it. It struck him then, that all he wanted now was a second chance. To do things right. To apologize to you and have you back.

To have you back as his … friend?

Yes.

No.

Maybe there was more to this.

But his palm began to grow warm and from within the cracks of his fingers golden light shined through.

Weird Barbie gasped and then clasped her hands over her mouth, “You did it.”, she mumbled in awe.

Relief washed over him, and so did hope, because now he was one step closer.

“Every time it senses her presence, it will glow. The stronger it does, the closer she is.”, she imparted another rule before she looked up at him with curiosity.

“What exactly did you think of?”, she asked.

“She makes the best sea salt caramel cookies.”, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Interesting.”, she clicked her tongue before she moved away.

What it was that she had observed from his demeanor, he wasn’t sure.

He woke up to the sound of his alarm. His heartbeat a bit faster than usual as he had the worst dream, one of those nightmares again. Where Barbie land is destroyed and everyone thinks he was the cause of it, again.

He got up, to place his head in his hands to take a few deep breaths. It had been longer than he had expected, he was certain to return in a weeks time but New York was an ocean with small delis to fancy restaurants that it was nearly impossible to go to every single one. To track you down with the little he knew. It was as good as fantasy. He would dine alone, with that rock in his hand that never actually glowed the moment he set foot here.

It was beginning to drive him insane. One, to be nowhere near finding you. Two, to see everyone be hurt by the very ideal he had long ago be enthralled. It was everywhere and it stunned him how a large part of the population was actually ok with this. So the job he had now felt much more inspiring.

If this was how Barbie felt, then he wouldn’t stop doing what he did too. He knew a little bit about the job process and what he needed from his last visit. He was passing by a school during recess and was entranced by the sound of their laughs. He had never been a kid before, he had always existed like this. But it touched him, that his existence was never for Barbie’s sake but for them, for their joy and as he shuffled his feet, he heard the sound of paper crackle beneath his feet.

It was a opening for someone who would be willing to help out in the library and also in doing a story reading session a few times during school hours for the kindergarten students.

He was sure he would be a great fit, plus he needed money.

And now as he fixed his tie in place and slicked back his hair that was a lot less paler than what it had been in Barbie land. No matter the worry, he always had a spring in his step. His eyes flit to the doomsday meter, the needle hovered over the green area when he first arrived, now it was crossing over into the orange section.

He downed his glass of orange juice, the tart flavor waking him up, reminding him that today could be the day. It was the day when the school held its parent-teacher meeting for this semester and given the need to maintain an image to get sponsors, a new caterer was set to be hosting the event. So he felt like he had an even more important reason to go.

He took the train along with the morning rush as he held his bag to his chest remembering the one time he was naïve enough to give away his wallet to a thief disguised as a homeless man, he had been homeless once too. As he walked down the street, he made sure he didn’t walk near the edge because on a rainy morning, a car drove past him to drench him in roadside puddle water, causing his shoes that he meticulously polished to lose their shine and also ruined the way he had set his hair.

He was fiercely afraid of rats, so this city had it out for him. Unlike Los Angeles, it snowed here, the people were ruthless and often times he felt like the sun in the darkness of space. No one could light up his world, atleast not like you did.

But as he approached his the entrance, he had a feeling envelope him. It was the sound of his students greeting him, but it was more than that, almost as if his soul could reach out to its other half. He wore the crystal around his neck, afraid that he was going to lose it but now it felt warm.

He grew conscious of its meaning, that his hand snapped to his chest, scared that everyone could see it’s glow but as he looked around, the children couldn’t see it. Only he could, it’s light grew brighter as it spread a zing of warmth through his skin but his eyes moved away from the happy faces to a woman who was observing him.

Her eyes wide as realization dawned on her face but it was in that moment Ken knew that the world could freeze. That even here, magic still had some effect, because even before the pendant could tell him, he knew.

He knew he would find his way to you.

He knew that as he spent everyday over the past few years trying to find you and the more clearer he began to understand his emotions. He had come to understand that all this while, what he had thought was just a friendship was actually a foundation for something more deeper. For something he had wished for his whole life.

He was in love again. And so as he called for you, hoping this wasn’t a dream, the name that was special to him as he whispered it in his sleep.

He could tell anything you had felt for him long ago was not present anymore because in your gaze he saw a mix of shock and pain. You began to turn away from him and he didn't want to waste another second but in the heat of the moment, he watched as you fainted and all he did was drop his bags to run to you.

---

Tags:

@imogen-skye @ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000 @jokersgrf @linacool13 @oh-kurva @dreamsarenicer @memospacexx @haleysucks00 @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @tempobaekh @fallingwallsh @whatafreakingloser @lcversrockk @imonmyvigilanteshh @constellationscharts @eddiemunson4ever @freyafriggafrey @neptunelixir @iamruiningmylife @floralsightings @ynbutbetter @lazyboikat @mrharringtonsbae @spookyscellar @harleyquinn03041998 @haydensith @thatgirljas13 @weasleytwinscumslut @bl00dy-murd3r @itstylersblog @papichulo120627 @lee-lee-23 @dazeglitter-blog @urmom24sworld

#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #ken barbie #barbie #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #ken x y/n #ken x you #ken x reader #ken carson

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energy-healing-with-jen · 7 months ago

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LEARN TODAY: Art Therapy

Art therapy is a mental health tool that helps individuals express and process emotions through creative activities like painting or drawing. It works by allowing people to explore and interpret their feelings in non-verbal ways, guided by a trained therapist. Originating in the 1940s, art therapy is used to address conditions such as anxiety, depression, trauma, and low self-esteem. While generally effective, its results may vary, and it can sometimes lead to heightened distress if not properly managed.

How does it work?

People who make art in any form, whether they consider themselves artists or not, are taking part in a process of self-discovery that gives them a safe space to express their feelings. Furthermore, it allows them to feel more in control over their life. This creative process is enjoyable in its own right, but this is not the only activity that goes on in an art therapy session.

In an art therapy session, an individual may do some of the following exercises:

painting

drawing

finger painting

working with clay

carving

sculpting

doodling and scribbling

making collages

Although these exercises take place under the guidance of an art therapist, what emerges should be the unfiltered responses of the individual. Understanding them can promote mental health and well-being.

Benefits of Art Therapy:

1. Emotional Expression and Release

Safe outlet for emotions: Art therapy allows individuals to express emotions they may not be able to verbalize. It can be particularly helpful for those who find it difficult to talk about their experiences, trauma, or stress.

Reduction of emotional stress: Engaging in creative activities can help people release pent-up emotions, providing relief from stress, anxiety, depression, and anger.

2. Self-Discovery and Personal Insight

Deeper self-awareness: Creating art can uncover underlying thoughts, feelings, or patterns of behavior that a person might not consciously recognize. This can lead to personal growth and a better understanding of oneself.

Processing traumatic experiences: For those dealing with trauma or unresolved issues, art therapy offers a non-verbal medium to process these experiences, which can lead to healing.

3. Boosts Mental Health

Reduces anxiety and depression: The therapeutic nature of creative expression often reduces feelings of anxiety, depression, and mental exhaustion. It can provide a sense of control and a break from the rumination associated with these conditions.

Improves mood: Engaging in artistic creation can trigger the release of endorphins, which can improve mood and foster a sense of relaxation and well-being.

4. Enhances Cognitive Abilities

Problem-solving skills: Art therapy encourages creative thinking, which can help individuals develop problem-solving skills and enhance cognitive flexibility.

Memory and focus: For people with cognitive impairments or age-related memory issues, creating art can improve attention, concentration, and memory.

5. Increases Self-Esteem and Confidence

Sense of accomplishment: Completing a piece of art can give individuals a sense of pride and achievement, helping to build confidence and self-esteem.

Affirmation of uniqueness: The act of creating something personal can affirm one’s uniqueness, promoting a sense of identity and empowerment.

6. Facilitates Communication

Non-verbal communication: Art therapy provides a medium for those who struggle with verbal communication (e.g., children, individuals with speech difficulties, or those with autism) to express themselves in a non-verbal way.

Building interpersonal connections: In group settings, art therapy fosters social interaction, empathy, and communication, creating a sense of community and shared understanding.

7. Stress Relief and Relaxation

Mindfulness and relaxation: Engaging in art can serve as a form of mindfulness, helping individuals focus on the present moment, reducing stress, and promoting relaxation.

Reduced physical symptoms of stress: It has been shown to lower heart rate, decrease cortisol levels, and improve overall physiological well-being.

8. Healing for Physical Illness

Improved coping mechanisms: For individuals dealing with chronic illness, pain, or recovery, art therapy can provide a way to cope with physical symptoms and emotional pain.

Support for rehabilitation: In physical therapy, art can enhance motor skills and hand-eye coordination, supporting physical rehabilitation.

#art therapy #brain #mental health

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minhance · 2 years ago

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5 Benefits of Art Therapy for children

“Art speaks where words are unable to explain.”– Pam Holland (Artist)

Have you seen or observed yourself, when in deepest thoughts and worries, given a pen and paper, unconsciously you start scribbling random patterns? After scribbling you always feel a sense of relief.

Art is a powerful tool that helps to express one’s thoughts and feelings which are too painful to communicate in words. So what is Art Therapy?

What is Art Therapy?

In the field of counselling, there are various forms of therapies and Art therapy is one among them. As the name suggests, it refers to using Art as a medium to explore one’s emotions and diagnose behavioural issues. Colours and creative activities are used to help people especially children to express emotions and feelings, de-stress, resolve conflicts, bring self-awareness and enhance the overall well-being of children.

Art Therapy for Children

“My child does not finish assignments”. “My child does not talk much to me and I do not know what is happening…”

Dear Parents Do these phrases ring a bell ?

Children, as they grow from childhood to adolescence, go through various challenges – personality changes, changes in their physiology, peer pressure, digital addiction, sibling pressure, parents' tantrums identity issues and much more. They find it hard to express their emotions and feelings as they feel overwhelmed by external factors. Sometimes they themselves are not even aware what is going on with them.

This is where we apply Art therapy. Art therapy, without intimidating, helps children in a fun and artistic way to express their emotions and understand themselves better.

Art circumvents the limitations of languages and provides an alternative for children to express their thoughts and emotions.

Art may involve doodling, painting, writing a story or poems, collage, clay art, sculpture, etc.

Art therapy is used by counsellors to address various childhood concerns, such as anxiety, low self-esteem, addictions, PTSD, depression, eating disorders and much more.

According to AATA, “Art therapy is used to improve cognitive and sensorimotor functions, foster self-esteem and self-awareness, cultivate emotional resilience, promote insight, enhance social skills, reduce and resolve conflicts and distress, and advance societal and ecological change.”

Here are 5 benefits of Art Therapy for the holistic development of children.

Improves focus, attention and concentration:

Creating an artwork involves active planning, preparing, deciding on various materials and colours, etc. While creating the artwork, one forgets everything and is in the moment focusing only on the art. It is like being in the zone. It makes one forget all the unwanted negative thoughts and worries and makes one happy. This triggers the release of Dopamine in the Prefrontal cortex which plays a significant role in mediating executive functions of the brain such as working memory, focus, organising, management of emotions, cognitive flexibility and self-control.

Manage emotions and improve communication skills:

Art therapy helps oneself to identify emotions and also acts as a safe outlet to relieve one’s emotions. Cathy Malchiodi, the Expressive Art therapist, states, “Drawing has been undeniably recognized as one of the most important ways that children express themselves and has been repeatedly linked to the expression of personality and emotions.” When they express their emotions through art, they feel at ease and relieved.

De-stress and reduce anxiety:

Stress arises when a child is unable to cope with numerous work demands and goes beyond their capacity to handle them.According to research studies, art therapy has been proven to help significantly lower the stress hormone -Cortisol. Further, children may not even be aware of what is going on with them. Art therapy makes it easier for them to express themselves which helps them relieve stress and address anxiety issues.

Address behavioural issues:

Refusal in obeying parents, attention deficit hyperactive disorder, lack of empathy, anger issues, etc. Art therapy, through positive behaviour reinforcement helps children to regulate their emotions and behaviour and provides techniques empowering them to be in control of themselves.

Self-Esteem and Self-Awareness:

The development of self-esteem in children is largely influenced by the external factors and environment they are exposed to. Art therapy provides an opportunity for children and adolescents to create something original on their own which equips them with the confidence to try new things.The satisfaction of self creation allows them to reframe their mental perspective of self-esteem. It enables self- exploration which provides insights to understand themselves better and work on themselves.

Overall, the goal of art therapy is to reduce symptoms, empower children to better manage themselves, provide coping strategies, identify triggers, increase the ability to problem- solving, manage emotions and behaviour and improve communication skills. Art therapy approaches children at their level and makes it easier to deal with various issues.

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rednexxwritesthing · 22 days ago

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I've GOT YOU!!

TWs: Vomit, ED kinda (?)

Running On Empty

Sonic sits on the table in Tails' lab kicking his feet. Tails always made him have a routine checkup at least once a month, and today had, unfortunately, been one of those fateful days.

As Tails typed away on his keyboard Sonic yawned and checked his bare wrist as if he had a watch on.

"Yo, Tails, how long is this gonna take? It's been forever!" He whines, lying back on the wood table, his ribcage showing slightly through his skin. Tails frowned before sighing and going back to typing.

"Sorry, Sonic, I'm doing my best. I think something's wrong with my math, your weight goes down significantly whenever we do these check ups and I can't see why. I mean, you eat enough for a Mobian your size, and you run a lot, but not enough to burn off all of the calories." He explains with a twinge of exasperation, one hand clutching the fur on his head in stress.

Sonic just bit his lip in thought, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully as he sat back up.

"Maybe it's because whenever I run I throw up?" He suggests calmly. Tails turns to him slowly, eye twitching.

"I- excuse me?"

"Yeah! Like, if I run within 30 minutes of eating I just puke it all up. Disgusting, right?" Sonic snorts, deflecting the nervousness that was continuously creeping up his spine. "B-But that's fine. R.. Right?"

Tails just stared at him before rubbing his temples.

"Sonic-- that is extremely unhealthy! Why did you never say anything!"

"Because it's gross and uncomfortable! And it makes me look all small and weak and I hate it. My throat is always sore and I can't even enjoy food anymore. Whenever I eat a chili dog I can't help but think "how long until I just vomit all of this everywhere?" and it sucks!" His eyes glisten slightly, and he rubs his arms anxiously. Tails takes a deep breath and stands up, walking towards him.

"Sonic, you're not weak." He grabs a pad of paper and pencil, scribbling down some notes. "I'm shocked I didn't realize this sooner, it should've been obvious." Sonic watches the way the fox's hands move quickly across the sheet of paper, writing like his life depends in it.

"Careful T, you might get carpel tunnel if you keep writing that fast" Sonic laughs, Tails does not.

"Sonic, this is serious. You could starve to death if this keeps happening." He sighs "You said it only happens within 30 minutes of consuming food, correct? Then we'll create a comprehensive schedule for meals so that way when we schedule things to do, we don't have to worry about you throwing up." Tails explains looking up at Sonic with eyes of concern and a little pity.

Sonic looks down at the small fox who had saved him in ways he couldn't even begin to describe. He smiles softly and sighs in relief.

"Thanks man, you're a life saver y'know that?" He ruffles the top of his head with a fond expression.

"Aww… Sonic! I do my best" Tails grins, eyes lighting up at the praise. "Let's go get some food and NOT run afterwards." He smirks. Sonic chuckles and winks at him, flashing a thumbs up.

"You got it, but I'm still running there!" He says, racing off.

Later, after Sonic and Tails had grabbed some chilidogs, obviously, when they got an alert from Amy through comms.

Amy: CODE EGG--Just a bunch of badniks this time. See you guys soon!

Without thinking Sonic grinned at Tails and sped off, not hearing Tails' warning to take it easy.

And then the familiar nausea and unease filled his senses within seconds.

His stomach churned.

His mouth watered.

And then before he knew it- it all came up.

His throat burned, he could taste the bile on his tongue, and tears burned at the backs of his eyes. Amy finished off a badnik, before turning and seeing the poor hedgehog bent over, on the verge of tears, a pile of his own sick in front of him.

"Sonic!!! Are you okay?? What happened?!" She questions, concern lacing her tone of voice as she frantically help Sonic sit and lean against a tree.

"Nah- I'm fine Ames. It's the fourth time today."

"THE FOURTH!?" Amy squeaks, and Sonic shuts up immediately. Smiling nervously and shrugging.

"I- you stay here! Tails, help him out while Knux and I finish off the badniks."

"On it!" Tails shouts, landing beside sonic with napkins and a water bottle, cleaning him up as Sonic sips the water, face flushed in embarrassment and shame.

As the battle comes to a close Amy and Knuckles join Tails at Sonic's side.

"Jeez-! Sonic when did you get so thin?? Are you sick?" She frowns, her face etched with nervousness and anxiety over her friend's health.

"I'm fine-"

"-He's not. His body can't keep food down before it fully digests when he's running. He's not keeping down the food so he keeps losing weight." Tails glares at Sonic, who sighs in defeat.

"Sonic! You should've told us! We would've adapted!" Amy pouts, and Knuckles nods.

"Yeah, dude. We could've handled this alone while your body did it's thing." Sonic stared at his friends, eyes watering.

"You… Don't think I'm weak? Or gross?" He whispers, and the three of them wrap him in a tight hug.

"Never! Just… Try not to puke on my shoes." Amy giggles.

"Nah, honestly? I probably respect you more. I mean, you came over here knowing you'd probably throw up. That takes guts." Knuckles gives him a noogie.

"And you're my brother no matter how gross your body is!" Tails smiles.

"I love you guys" Sonic sniffles

"Yeah yeah, we love you too" Amy sighs contentedly.

you angst sth writers need to pay attention to some details my bros

cuz like i havent found a single person who takes advantage of the fact that maybe perhaps sonic has trouble keeping food down when he runs, tails in Sonic Boom asks about it & i lowk forgot sonics response BUT STILL

imagine the angst bro💔 imagine sonic becoming malnourished and everyone us like "sonic are you okay??" and hes like "yup!!!" after he jist threw up for the 5th time and its only 4pm (he wakes up at like 2pm)

#tw throwing up #tw vomit #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #amy the hedgehog #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #sonic boom #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #red writes #tw emetophobia #found family

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isa-solasun · 2 years ago

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IT'S OKAY, I'M HERE FT. SATAN

. summary: you don't feel very good mentally, and the avatar of wrath notices.

. content warnings: hurt/comfort, more comfort than anything, self indulgent, self-inflicted hair pulling out of stress, worried satan

. characters: satan [om!] & gn!reader

. taglist: @reshi-galaxy comment here to be added...

. note: sorry for ghosting you guys :'< i've been losing motivation lately and the burnout is finally catching up. but I decided, you know what? i'm gonna make a use of it!

"No, no, no, no!"

Satan lifted his head from the book he was engrossed in to the source of his disturbance, you. To be frank, you weren't exactly loud, given the current location you were in, a library. And yet, in Satan's mind, any thoughts related to you would always be the most present.

His eyebrow twitches as you let out another panicked and rushed mutter, observing from his peripherals the way your fingers gripped strands of your hair in frustration.

He looked down at the desk you're seated at, full of open books, stationery, and pieces of paper scattered everywhere. How messy, Satan commented in his head. It wasn't unlikely for you to not be the most organized person around, but he sensed that this time was different.

You don't seem like you're having a great time; other than your obvious uncomfortable gestures, Satan can also see the dark circles under your eyes and the lack of life in them.

Midterms were coming up, and Satan had overheard your conversation with Simeon the other day about how stressed and burned out you had been the past week, so he guessed that might be the reason why, but he stopped and told himself not to assume anything about them anymore, let alone projecting into their concerns.

He sighed and pushed himself off of his chair, then proceeded to make his way towards you. By the time he's merely a step away from your robe, you were scribbling rather aggressively onto your notebook, and your gaze goes everywhere in a frantic manner as you failed to notice his presence in front of you.

"Hey," you almost flew out of your seat when he tapped your shoulders, turning your head so fast it made Satan worry you might break your neck. "You good?" he asked, a rush of relief grazing his heart at seeing you visibly relaxed at the sight of him, unprepared for you to launch yourself on him.

Blood rushed to his face as he fell to the floor with you hugging him on top. Even if you weren't shy, it's not like you to be this bold either. yet all his embarrassment faded out almost as fast as it came. He realized that his blazer was becoming wet. You were crying.

Why? He wished to ask the question. What's wrong? Who hurt you? And his concern only grew when your grip around his waist tightened. Satan is ready to attack anything that could possibly be the reason you're upset, but at the moment, he knew you needed his comfort the most. and thus he hugged you back, rubbing circles on your shaking, tense shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his arms, doing his best to provide every ounce of warmth he could ever provide as a demon.

He does hope that you'll open up and talk to him about anything. and he'll wait for you to be ready, no matter how long it might take; he just wanted you to know that Satan is always there for you.

Main Masterlist

⊙isa-solasun please do not steal

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egg-emperor · 3 years ago

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Do you think that modern eggman has any kind of appreciation for the arts? I see him as the type to appreciate literary works, primarily novels and maybe poetry from time to time. Possibly could be appreciative of fine/visual arts too if he's the one drawing out and designing his robots from scratch (If so, he must be a really good artist!)

Yes absolutely!! He definitely likes reading with all the books we see in one of his private rooms in Adventure!

I imagine that a bunch of them are informative books about science/robotics/machinery/etc, quite similar to how he got books from the library for research in Sonic X. He likes things that he might find useful for work, or he can read and find entertainment in knowing his own work and knowledge on the subjects they're about are far superior to theirs with his genius heheh

But I can also see him reading novels or poetry as another hobby to indulge in his free time and having a nice collection of them, maybe even a huge library somewhere! I could always picture him sitting down with a book to unwind after hard work and a stress relief. He'd be great at story in depth analysis and review and I can see him getting really immersed in it.

There have even been Sonic Official posts that imply that Eggman is an author himself. I'd love for that to be game canon so he could be interested in both reading types of literature from others and also doing writing of his own!

I'm sure he does design and draw out his ideas all by himself. You can see how often his special personal touches and unique design reflects in his creations, with the most notable being those that have any resemblance to his appearance and I adore it heheh. I can't picture anyone else drawing out his creations and designs for him. Because he's so smart, he's probably constantly getting ideas and inspiration all the time, including from things he sees in daily life and maybe commonly taking notes and sketching at the thought.

An example is how he's taken inspiration from various creatures and insects and found creative ways to incorporate and translate their known natural abilities into mechanical functions and attacks for his robots and I find that super cute. He's creating his machines for destruction and I'm like oh my god adorable lol. Designing and drawing it all by himself would be a big part of the pride and accomplishment for him, so they must all be drawn out and designed from scratch with his own hands. With his 300 IQ and genius, he's very imaginative, creative, and skilled!

He was also seen drawing for his creations in Sonic X, which I imagine his game self doing

And he also had stationary at his desk in this Sonic Channel art which he could use for both notes and drawing, so it does point towards that being true

I love to imagine that he's a beautiful and talented artist, he can draw incredible complex detailed artwork for his designs but also likes to scribble cute doodles in his notebooks for fun, like in this Sonic Official post XD 💜 So I can also see him having good artistic knowledge and the ability to analyze, review, and appreciate various works such as fine and visual arts too because he's very creative and imaginative himself. But he knows all if his own works are the greatest of all!

Sonic Official have also shown him to have an interest in music more than once in Twitter Takeovers, where he's talked about appreciating and even creating music. I do feel it would suit his game canon self well and him having an interest in showtunes is very believable! He said he'd tweet about his opinions if he had an account, so perhaps he could even be into analyzing music as well.

I also like the idea of IDW Eggman making figures by hand and I can definitely see him doing this in game canon as I like to imagine the plushies used as test dummies in Final Egg were hand sewn by him. And him drawing his ideas first and then making them into 3D figure models would make a lot of sense. That way he can save time and resources if he decides there's any changes he wants to make and assure that he's happy with it before the real production. He can get right to the tests of function with the actual thing then instead. It's also a fun hobby for him to have and I definitely think he'd like to play with them sometimes too!

I adore the idea of him being artistic and creative in many ways as it shows already through all the creations and designs of his we've seen in the games. Not only is he good at designing and building by hand as much as he can have them produced in his factories, but he's also interested and skilled in other handcrafted creations, art and design in other areas such as artwork and fashion, writing and appreciating various forms of literature, and perhaps even music. I believe in him having a plethora of talents as the brilliant genius he is. 💜💕

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #my post #headcanons #hobbies #art

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legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

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Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation.

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day.

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No.

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her.

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public.

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears?

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—”

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking.

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation.

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him.

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already.

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity.

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait.

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl.

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

#timari #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #family-friendly content #who would have thought #tumblr dont fucking try me

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ghostimoth · 4 years ago

Text

Nerves {Jean Kirschtein x Fem!Reader} Modern/Highschool AU!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jean's nervous to tell you about his feelings, but after a stressful day of nagging from his friends - he finally gets the courage to confess.

Playlist: Him and Hym (from banana fish)

Tags: @coltsbitch I hope you like it uwu

“You’re staring Jean-booooy!” Sasha teased, dragging an elbow into Jean’s ribs.

The brunette let out a grunt at the sudden intrusion and sent a glare towards the girl. “The fuck was that for?” He complained. Jean lightly shoved Sasha away as he rubbed at his now sore torso.

Sasha chuckled. Rolling her eyes as she put her head in her hands, she said, “you were staring at (Y/N). Again.” Across the table, Connie snickered into his hand.

Jean’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “No, I wasn’t. I just happened to be looking in her direction. That’s all.” Pushing away the lunch his mother had made him - which Sasha and Connie also made fun of - Jean leaned back in his chair.

Marco, the last and most sensible person of their friend group, cleared his throat. “Ah come on Jean,” he chastised, “they mean well. It’s just... well…” Marco trailed off for a second, a nervous hand coming up scratch at his freckled face. Jean raised an eyebrow at his longtime friend. “Well, you can be a bit obvious. And it hurts to watch sometimes.”

Much to the chagrin of Jean, Sasha and Connie were quick to join in once again.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Sasha exclaimed with a mouthful of fries. “We’re just trying to kick you into high gear and get you to finally ask (Y/N) out!”

Connie leaned forward onto the table. “Haven’t you been madly in love with her since you were like, what - 12?” He waved a lazy hand in the air.

A dark hue spread across Jean’s cheeks, which he quickly hid behind his hand. “Oh shut up ya baldy!” Jean yelled back. He groaned. “I’ve just known her since we were 12. As if I could fall in love with her at that age.”

Sasha let out a triumphant shriek. She practically climbed on top of the poor soccer player in her excitement. “You didn’t deny you love her!” She practically exclaimed to the entire cafeteria. Nearby tables went quiet and glanced their way.

“Shut up Sasha!” Jean retaliated, pushing her off of him. His blush had now reached far past his cheeks, decorating his ears in a pink hue.

Despite the anger radiating off of him, Sasha seemed unperturbed by her friend’s actions. Rather she seemed to get even happier. “Just go talk to her and ask her on a date already!” She said matter of factly before chomping on her slice of pizza.

Jean looked to Marco and Connie for help. As he expected, Connie agreed, saying something along the lines of finally getting with her and to stop acting like a lost puppy. But Marco! Instead of coming to his rescue, Marco simply nodded and agreed.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, Jean was the first to stand up and leave. In his anger and embarrassment he nearly forgot his lunchbox. He swiped it from Marco’s grasp without thanking him before stomping his way to his next class.

By the time he walked through the doorway of the chemistry class, his anger had dissipated and morphed into a mix of embarrassment and guilt at his actions.

“Stupid Sasha and Connie, trying to meddle in with my damn business. Damn Marco for not backing me up.” Jean grumbled as he sat on the stool.

A soft giggle to his left made him jump.

“Oh (Y/N)!” He said, his voice jumping an octave. He hadn’t even seen you as he ranted and raved under his breath.

“Hey Jean. It looks like you’ve had a bit of a rough day. Sasha and Connie being overbearing again?” You asked, moving a stray lock of hair from your face.

Jean gulped as your curious eyes stared up at him. He was always taller than most people his age, yet you made him feel like the smallest person in the world. You were - as cheesy as it was - different from the other girls in the school. At least to Jean. All the other girls at Paradis High, whether they were friends or strangers to Jean, had a level of unattainability. Some of them were for obvious reasons, such as Historia who practically had a bodyguard in the form of her butch girlfriend, but other reasons were much more transparent. Even if Jean did fantasize about bringing a girl on a date and being in a relationship - it always felt like some wacky dream.

But never with you. You always felt just a bit more physical, a bit more real to Jean. Maybe it was because of how comfortable you were with him or your constant curiosity that led to you getting into trouble that would have been easily avoidable (and sometimes dragging Jean down with you).

You were always just an arm’s distance away. A distance Jean didn’t dare cross, not at 12 years old and not at 17.

“Uh yeah, they were just getting on my ass about a girl. Marco wasn’t any help either, so I’m just a bit annoyed at them.” He finally responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked up at him for a moment before an expression of realization spread across your features like a wave. Excitedly, you grabbed onto his upper arm and pulled him down closer to you.

“Do you like a girl, Jean?!”

Jean thanked whatever mystical being out there that you had enough sense to whisper your conclusion to him, but then promptly cursed them out as you stared at him face to face. He could smell the mint you had after lunch fanning over his face.

Jean opened and closed his mouth quickly, unsure of how to respond, scared that if he spoke his voice would croak and falter.

Thankfully the chemistry teacher Dr. Hange walked in, earning everyone’s attention with a loud clap.

Letting go of Jean’s arm, you stood straight up in your chair and listened as Dr. Hange reviewed what today’s class would cover; but not before sending Jean a smirk.

Fidgeting with his fingers under the desk, Jean did his best to ignore your glances and overall presence, intent on willing the whole discussion about his crush out of existence. That is until you slid a small note to Jean’s side of the black desk. Scribbled in your clean handwriting was a request - no - an order.

You’re totally filling me in on this girl after school! I’m not taking no for an answer!

Jean sighed to himself, grimacing as your playful grin appeared at the edge of his vision.

“Jeeeaaan! Come on!” You whined, bouncing on his bed. “Why won’t you tell me who your crush is!”

Said boy let out a sigh as he dropped his book bag onto the floor next to his desk and all but collapsed into the gaming chair. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he answered in a taut voice. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Totally not because it’s you.” He thought.

You groaned in frustration, tossing and turning on his bed, inevitably ruining the nicely folded blankets. “Come on! I’ve known you since we were in middle school!”

Jean chuckled. “Yeah sure, if you count two kids bored out of their minds on family trips to the mountains only to never see each other until high school as knowing each other since middle school.”

Sitting up on the bed, you pouted at the brunette. “Damn. You really didn’t have to get specific about it.”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jean’s chest was uncontrollable. Doubling over in his chair, Jean finally looked at you for the first time since getting to his house. “Why shouldn’t I? When you showed up in the middle of last year and latched yourself onto me - everyone thought you were my secret girlfriend! Hell, even I was confused as to why you were practically glued to my arm.”

Jean continued to laugh, more to himself now. When his laughter finally fizzled away and his eyes were no longer clouded by tears, he sat back up in his chair - only to go rigid again.

You had pulled your legs into your chest and were staring away from Jean. The sharp glint of your eyes told Jean that he had pissed you off.

“A shit (Y/N), I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Taking a deep breath, your body relaxed against itself.

“I know, you big idiot. It’s just… you were my first real friend. Of course I got excited when we reunited years later.” You chuckled to yourself at the memory of spotting him in the middle of homeroom. The joy and relief you felt that day was tremendous.

Standing up, Jean walked over to the bed and sat next to you before falling against his plush covers with a dulled thump. He patted the bed. A silent invitation for you to lay next to him. You took it and laid next to him, staring at the ceiling in silence.

No words were spoken between the two of you for some time. This is how it went sometimes. The two of you didn’t need to talk constantly to keep the energy comfortable and flowing. Comforting silences were a rare thing to have.

The soft breathing and heat radiating off of Jean nearly had you falling asleep. That is until he spoke up, startling you awake.

“She’s really sweet ya know.” Jean could see you turn to him with a raised eyebrow out of his peripheral. “The girl I like. She’s really sweet. A little overbearing with her physical affection, but nothing crazy. She’s… people-smart. She knows when to start and stop.” Jean could feel you shift on the bed so that your head was level with his. He continued talking without thinking of the consequences. “She’s got a few unconventional hobbies and does stupid shit all the time. Had to stitch up her pinkie finger once because she cut it while exploring an abandoned house.” Jean’s own pinkie moved towards your hand, making contact with your own pinkie finger. He traced the raised scar. “She’s super smart too and is always working to get better for herself. And… well I’ve liked her for a while but I was always scared to face the feelings she gave me whenever we hang out. I didn’t want to accept them. It was odd. I was used to never having a shot with the people I liked. But you… you just seemed to shoot right into me without me even realizing it.”

Finally, Jean had the courage to look at you. Your cheeks were darkened with a deep blush and your eyes twinkled. Jean didn’t say anything. He waited for your response with bated breath. The two of you laid there on dark covers for what felt like an eternity.

“For fucks sake (Y/N). Ya gotta respond to me.” Jean choked out in a harsh whisper. His hand was trembling from the nerves.

“I can play a 2 hour soccer game without issue, but I can’t make a simple confession without shaking? What the hell Jean.” He thought bitterly.

As though life was breathed back into you - you took a deep breath.

Quick and sudden nods.

Jean furrowed his eyebrows.

Your hand inched its way into his.

Jean pushed himself up onto his elbow and leaned over you

Your gleaming eyes flashed to his lips and back up to his eyes.

A silent exchange of words.

Leaning forward, Jean let his forehead lightly knock against yours. “Can I kiss you.”

“Please.”

Slowly, Jean let his lips ghost over yours. Just barely touching. As though Jean was scared any harsh movements would make you break. You surged into the kiss, squeezing onto his hand still interlocked with yours.

Jean internally groaned, the taste of your minty tongue invading his senses. If he didn’t stop kissing you now he was going to go crazy.

Pulling back from your lips, he stared down at you. You chuckled nervously, fingers twitching.

“What? Am I that bad of a kisser?”

Jean shook his head quickly. “No way. You’re amazing. Just… just fucking relieved you feel the same way.”

You smiled up at him. “I mean, of course. You were my first friend. Only makes sense that you were my first love too.”

Bonus:

“Jean-boy, I made some sandwiches for you and (Y/N) to e- OH!”

“Ma! It’s not what it looks like!”

“I’m so sorry! I’ll leave you two alone. Make sure to use protection!”

A pillow thudded against the freshly closed door and fell to the floor in a sad lump.

“SHUT UP MA!”

#jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein scenarios #jean kirschtein x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #jean kirschtein fluff

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everybodyscupoftea · 5 years ago

Text

chemistry

isaac lahey x reader

isaac needs help in chemistry and you need help in english - the beginning

this is for isaac anon and the few people that wanted this. i’m just dabbling here, so let me know if you guys want more! (i did quite a bit of Research for this and i have ideas)

also let me know, i left it vague, but if i expand i’m probably going to add in scott, stiles, allison, and lydia. would you guys like to keep it supernatural or do full au where they’re just normal college students?

You noticed the boy in your Intro to Academic Writing course, but you didn’t really focus on him, mostly due to freshman year stress, until he sat down next to you in General Chemistry. Stepping into the classroom you’d felt at ease, science was your jam, but the really cute boy put you back on edge. You felt hyperaware of him, his scent, kind of cinnamon-y, fall-esque.

He tapped his fingers on his notebook, and you couldn’t help but notice he wrote in green pen. You glanced every so often to see him doodling in the corner of the page instead of taking notes on the intro lesson on the scientific method that your professor was doing.

The boy rested his chin on his hand and his fingers went from tapping on the notebook to his jaw and you shook your head, trying to focus back on the professor who was talking about your lab groups.

“The people at your table are in your group. Lab is on Wednesday nights, I won’t be the instructor, you’ll have a TA, but you can email me or come to my office hours if you have any questions about what’s going on. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”

You started to pack your stuff and the boy turned to you with a crooked grin, “I’m Isaac.”

Shaking his hand, you introduced yourself and he stood, waiting for you to finish packing your stuff. You zipped your booksack, “You’re in my English class, right?” you asked, faking as if you didn’t notice him as soon as you stepped into the door.

He nodded, “Yeah, with Dr. Terranova.”

“He seems,” you trailed off, looking for the right word, “interesting.”

Isaac grinned, “You mean overwhelmingly picky for an English 101 professor?”

“That’s a great way to put it,” you told him, laughing.

The two of you walked out the door and down the hall together. Isaac shifted his booksack on his shoulders a little and asked, “Do you have any more classes today?”

“Calculus,” you told him and he grimaced.

“Fuck that.”

“You?”

He nodded, “Spanish.”

Unfortunately for you, the buildings were on opposite ends of campus, so you paused just outside the door to the chemistry building. Isaac paused too and smiled, “See you tomorrow night?”

“See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

Your lab group was made up of two boys and two girls. Isaac, Andrew, Abigail, and you. Out of the group, you were the only STEM major, and the only one who actually liked chemistry. Isaac patted your shoulder, “Well, that officially makes you team captain then.”

“Thank god,” Abigail added, “I’m an advertising major, my brain noped out of the sciences years ago.”

The other guy, Andrew, said, “I took Chem 2 in high school and didn’t pass the AP exam, chemistry and I have beef.”

You snorted and said, “Cool, well, I’ll try and lead us to the promised land.” They seemed to like that.

Your group was really smart, everyone was picking up the labs really easily and you were thrilled, especially when the teacher stood in front of the class after the first test review. She clapped her hands once, “Okay, the lab group with the highest combined test average gets five bonus points added to their test scores. This is me trying to get you guys familiar with study groups, especially if you’re going to be in STEM, which I know some of you are. Study groups got me through school.”

Unfortunately, everyone in your lab group already had stuff going on, so you couldn’t study with them. Fortunately, the test was on intro stuff like the scientific method, conversions, and balancing equations, and your group hadn’t had any issues in any of the lab work, so you weren’t worried.

But when you got the test back, you realized, maybe you should’ve been. Isaac got his handed back first and actually laughed when he looked at the grade. Before you could ask, the professor set yours down on the desk and you started flipping through it, frowning at the little points you’d had taken off for careless mistakes.

“Fuck,” you muttered, “should’ve gotten at least a 97.”

“Wow, can’t believe you fucked it up for the whole group,” Isaac sarcastically responded, nudging you with his elbow, before sliding his test on top of yours. He nudged you again, “As you can see, I’m carrying the team,” and he motioned toward the D written in bright red at the top of his paper.

Your mouth dropped open and you picked the test up, flipping through to see what he’d missed. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked over at him, “You should tell her you accidentally skipped the back page.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an accident, I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Well,” you stuttered, “it was the same stuff we did in the last lab activity.”

Isaac nodded, “Yes it is, and I didn’t understand it then either.”

“I thought,” you paused, mind racing, “I thought we all did?”

He grinned at you, “Some of us aren’t science brains, my friend.”

“What are you?” you asked as the class started to pack up.

With a soft smile, he threw his booksack over his shoulder, “I’m a literature major.”

You didn’t mean to think about it as much as you did, but when 2 a.m. rolled around and you were at your most impulsive you couldn’t stop yourself from sending out a text.

Hey, do you maybe want to meet up and study sometime?

After hitting send you could’ve slammed your head into a wall. You locked your phone and put your head in your hands, “God damnit.” And then your phone dinged.

I’d love that, love to have a STEM genius in my corner.

Your cheeks heated as you read it and your mind raced with your heart. It was beating harder and part of you couldn’t even believe he’d said yes. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you responded.

Idk about genius but I’m not half bad at chem

He responded, even faster than the first time and you grinned, unable to stop it from overtaking your face.

I may not know much about the scientific method or whatever, but all evidence suggests otherwise, genius

The next test wasn’t for a few weeks, but Isaac wanted to start studying earlier. He suggested meeting at a coffee shop called The Beanery. Coffee shops weren’t really your jam, you liked the silence of the fourth floor of the library. Go early, get a table, put in head phones, and go to work. But, you were open to try Isaac’s suggestion.

It was brightly lit when you walked in, and he was already there, at a table in the corner, laptop out. Books were spread across the tabletop, and he already had two empty mugs on the table in front of him, leg bouncing as he aimlessly chewed on a pen.

Shaking yourself out of staring, you walked to the counter to order. Isaac smiled up at you when you made it to the table with your coffee.

“Welcome,” he told you, moving some of his books out of the way. Sitting up straighter, Isaac glanced around, “What do you think about this place?”

“It’s nice, definitely a change of pace from my norm.”

“Where’s that then?”

“Library, fourth floor.”

“Quiet up there, huh?”

“Yeah, but I listen to some music for background.”

“I like coffee shops,” Isaac said, closing his laptop, “the vibes are nice and my clothes always smell like coffee afterward which is a fun bonus.”

At his comment, you looked down at his clothes. You were a little surprised to see that he was dressed just like during the week: jeans, a nicer t-shirt, and a cardigan. You’d wondered, deep down, if he dressed nicer for class, but it didn’t seem the case. Isaac cleared his throat and your eyes snapped to his face, ears burning when you saw him staring at you in amusement.

Coughing quietly, you reached for your booksack, “So, chemistry. Do you understand what we’ve been going over?”

“I know they’re called Bohr models but I don’t know anything else about them.”

“Right, so,” you paused a minute, trying to figure out where to start, “it’s a way to draw an atom and it’s kind of like a planet.”

Isaac leaned forward through your explanation, resting most of his weight on his elbows, and tapped the green pen against his lower lip. Every so often he’d ask a question, shift a little and write something down in his notebook by whatever he’d scribbled in class. His questions were shockingly insightful, and you eagerly answered them all.

By the time you’d gotten through the basics of thermodynamics, he’d added a whole page of notes, and you could tell he was starting to lose interest. Shutting your notebook, you told him, earnestly, “I hope this helped a little.”

“I promise,” he looked you straight in the eye, “it makes sense. This all looked like a foreign language before we met up.”

“Good,” you nodded, “this is my jam.”

“Keep on spreading it,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well,” you admitted, “you may not be good at chem but you’d kick my ass into next week in English.”

“How’s your paper going?” Isaac asked, leaning back and crossing his arms, looking genuinely interested.

“It’s…going.”

He snorted, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Yeah neither does my thesis.”

“Do you have your laptop?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me have a look,” he suggested.

Pulling up the word doc, you passed your laptop over, staring down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a little nervously, as he read through your rough draft.

“What did Dr. Terranova have to say in your conference?” he asked, pushing your laptop away.

You sighed, “He was less than complimentary.”

Isaac laughed, “It’s not that bad, but it could use some polishing. I can help of course.”

Relief washed over you and you felt a weight off your shoulders, “That would be incredible actually.”

“There, now we’re even. You tutor me in chemistry and I’ll make sure you pass English, starting with this rough, and emphasis on rough, draft.”

Reaching across the table, you shoved at his hand, “Be gentle.”

“I’m going to get another chai,” he said, standing to stretch a bit, “and you pick out what sentence exactly you think is your thesis. We’ll start there.”

Biting your lip to conceal a grin, you nodded, waking your laptop back up.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #college isaac

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follow-your-fire · 4 years ago

Text

In your tender hands

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (Merlin)

Written for bottom Arthur fest 2020

@bottom-arthur

“You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“You did what?” Arthur nearly spits out his coffee, glaring daggers at his assistant.

Freya only rolls her eyes at the dramatic response. “You heard me. I booked you in for one hour when you take your break.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to squeeze a massage in? My break is one hour too, plus the commute, plus I want to have lunch.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know your schedule off the top of my head. How long have I been working for you?”

“Two years,” he replies automatically, taking a moment to appreciate the fact.

All in all, Freya is a wonderful assistant. Arthur knows she’s the only reason why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet. She’s punctual and diligent. Stubborn as hell and as ruthless as they come. It’s kind of a double-edged sword though. While she gets the job done - actually goes beyond her line of duty - she also takes great pleasure in bossing Arthur around. And of course, Arthur being the push-over he is, lets her get away with it.

So yeah, Freya is a godsent who saves Arthur from losing it on a daily basis. But she’s also the spawn of the Devil who loves to discover all the ways to drive him nuts.

“And four months,” she corrects. “So cut me some slack, Princess.”

Ignoring the jab - because really, Freya, it’s getting old - he comes back to his previous point of concern. “Then you should know that my schedule is fully packed today.”

“Not anymore,” she announces smugly, walking over to her desk to pick up the iPad before she returns to Arthur’s office. “I moved Masa to tomorrow at 11:15 and Cutforth to Friday at 2 pm, which gives you,” she does a quick count, “two hours and fifteen minutes for your break.” She closes the iPad, smiling victoriously. “Now, stop fretting and make sure you leave on time. I booked you for 12.:15. The commute is about fifteen minutes and you should be there at least five minutes in advance.” She grabs a pen and a post-it-note from his desk, scribbling quickly. “There,” she says, tearing the note off. “This is the address.”

“The enchanted cave,” he reads in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Shut up, Arthur. Merlin is the best there is. He put me back together after I lost my parents. He’s usually fully booked weeks in advance. You’re lucky that he has a soft spot for me and let me squeeze you in.”

Arthur turns more solemn at the mention of Freya’s parent’s untimely passing. It doesn’t make him any less confused, though.

“Sounds more like a shrink to me than a masseur,” he thinks out loud.

“He might as well be,” she laughs, affection evident in her voice, which softens Arthur’s irritation somewhat. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

“I don’t have time for self-pampering,” he grumbles defensively.

“That’s exactly why you have to make the time!”

“That’s quite an oxymoron.”

“Shush.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Really, Arthur. You need to unwind.”

“I don’t-”

“Arthur,” she groans impatiently. “Go. Get. The. Massage. I’m gonna make sure you leave on time and I will check with Merlin that you actually turned up.”

“I think you’re confusing who’s the boss and who’s the subordinate here.”

“I think you’re full of shit and need to shut up and listen to someone smarter than you.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the office before Arthur has a chance to retort anything back. “Don’t be a prat, Arthur. For once in your life, do something nice for yourself.” And with that, she shuts the door behind her.

Arthur arrives at the place at 12:07, just in time to walk to the door as a woman walks out. He steps to the side, waiting for her to pass.

“Arthur?”

He snaps his head up from where he was blankly staring at the side-walk. “Oh. Hey, Mithian,” he greets when he recognizes one of his long-time friends.

“Don’t hey me and give me a proper hug hello,” she complains and doesn’t waste any time to rise on her tiptoes and wrap him in her arms. Arthur returns the hug with a smile on his face.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been great but how have you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages,” she scolds him gently.

“Been busy.”

“Aren’t you always,” she scoffs, sympathetic. “Nice to see you’re finally doing something for yourself,” she says, getting a confused look. “You’re coming for a massage, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am. My assistant made me.” Oh, shit. That shouldn’t have come out.

Predictably, Mithian bursts into giggles. “Figures.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, Arthur. Someone needs to look out for you if you don’t,” she explains, her eyes soft and a wave of affection washes over Arthur as he remembers his uni years and their brief but lovely time together as a couple.

Now that he thinks of it, Freya reminds him of Mithian a lot. It occurs to him he’s attracted to a certain type of person. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but more in general.

His sister is like that too. All fiery and strong-willed, calling Arthur names on a good day, but when it comes to it, she’s a protective mother-hen.

So is his best friend. Lance is usually calm and collected but doesn’t hesitate to call Arthur on his bullshit, in the most loving way, though. So does Gwen. Those two really rub off on each other.

What is it with him attracting people into his life who spend most of their time scolding or mothering him? He needs to look into it later.

“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, you’ll see. Just wait for it.” And good grief, she winks at him. “I need to get going. Let me know how it went. You have my number, right?” Arthur nods. “Great. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to get in touch here and there, you know?”

Sighing guiltily, he humors her. “I will.”

“You’d better. Okay, gotta go. Enjoy yourself!” She blows him a kiss and takes off.

He very much doubts he’s gonna enjoy himself but if he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to nap while the guy gets handsy with him. He could use an extra hour of sleep. God knows the five hours he’s come to consider his routine are not cutting it anymore.

He sighs in relief as he walks through the door to find a rather unassuming lobby. Given the name of the business, he expected the place to live up to its cringeiness but thankfully there are no tacky lights, no magical crystals scattered around, no candles in every corner, nor every surface. The only thing that can be considered a bit spiritual or whatever is the incense perched on the counter, right next to the business cards and leaflets. Thankfully, the scent is very subtle and doesn’t trigger a headache.

“Good afternoon! You must be Arthur,” says a voice to his left and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even notice anyone in the room with him.

As he looks over in the direction the voice came from, he finds a man, presumably his masseur - Mark, Matt? - standing in the door leading to what Arthur guesses is the massage room.

“Oh. Hey. Yeah, that would be me.” He turns to face the man, straightening his back. He must look out of place, clad in his suit, still wearing his tie.

The man approaches him with a smile. “I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Freya talks about you quite a bit.”

Arthur reaches to grasp his hand when Merlin offers it, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t believe anything the little minx lets out of her mouth.” He attempts a joke, hoping his discomfort at being told his assistant talks about him is not too obvious.

He must succeed because Merlin is throwing his head back with a laugh. “She said you would say that,” he teases. “That’s alright. I like to make up my own mind.”

Arthur withdraws his hand and gives him a stiff smile. Outside of work, he has no idea how to make a decent conversation. Not upon the first meeting anyway.

Tilting his head inquiringly, Merlin asks, “You seem quite tense. Is everything alright?”

“It’s just... Look. I know you’re busy, Freya said so. And I appreciate you making time for me. But,” he huffs, knowing he’s gonna sound like a jerk no matter how he phrases it, “I don’t really care for massage much but Freya insisted. She can be fucking scary sometimes. Don’t tell her that though! And I just... I feel really out of place, okay?”

He expects to see Merlin’s expression sour, thinking Arthur is just a pompous douche. He wouldn’t even blame him. But, to his bewilderment, the man’s face is nothing but open, not a single trace of judgement.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says with humor. “If you don’t mind me asking - have you had a bad experience in the past?”

“More like no experience at all.”

For the first time, Merlin looks caught off guard. “You never had a massage?”

“No. I just never saw the point. And anyway, I don’t really have time to spare. The only reason I’m here is that Freya did some magic with my schedule and cleared it up enough to give me two hours off today.”

“Oh.” Merlin suddenly perks up. “In that case, I’d like to show you some of my magic, if you let me.”

Arthur’s brain short-circuits for a moment. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Or is he so tired he started hallucinating? Plus, his dry spell of six months is probably not helping either.

“Um... I... magic?”

“Yeah, you know...” Merlin sweeps his hand over the lobby. “The enchanted cave? Seems fitting?”

“Oh.” Arthur chokes out. “Right. Right...”

“Oh God, I just realized how cheesy that sounds,” Merlin reflects with a hint of embarrassment. “Anyway, I should stop talking. You didn’t come here for a chat, after all.” He steps to the side, gesturing towards the massage room. “I’d just finished setting it up before you came in, so it’s all ready for you.”

Arthur gets the hint and with a deep breath, he makes his way to the room. Unlike the lobby, it’s bathed in a soft yellow light and.... yup, those are candles alright. No crystals, though.

Merlin is right on his heels. “I’ll let you undress in private, to your level of comfort.You can hang your clothes here, or you can just fold them and put them on this chair.” He gestures to the chair in the corner. “After that, lie down on the massage table, on your stomach, this way around. You see the sheet over there? That’s for you to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes when you’re ready. Do you have any questions? Requests?”

So many questions. He goes with the most concerning one. “Yeah, um, when you say my level of comfort...” He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Merlin picks up on it.

“Whatever works for you, really. I can even massage you with your clothes on, although...” He gives Arthur a quick once-over, “I can’t imagine it would be comfortable for you.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. And he has to go back to work after and he’s sure that showing up in a wrinkled suit would earn him a few judgmental looks.

“But really, it’s up to you. You can keep your clothes on, or just your underwear. If you’d prefer to be completely naked, that works too.”

Arthur hopes the dim lighting of the room conceals his blush. There’s no reason why a man of 32 years should blush at the thought of being naked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin echoes with an encouraging smile. “Be back soon.”

Arthur releases a relieved breath when Merlin closes the door behind him. This whole thing is even more awkward than he expected. Merlin seems like an alright bloke, if a bit odd but Arthur supposes that comes with the job. He seems nice though, with all the reassurances and effort he put into making sure Arthur is comfortable.

He wonders how many male clients Merlin gets. So far, he knows that Freya and Mithian are swept away by him. Although it’s hard to tell if it’s because of his supposedly outstanding massage skills or his looks.

He groans internally and maybe even a bit out loud. Nope, don’t even go there. No hitting on your masseur. Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. Not with Merlin about to spend the next hour gliding his large hands over Arthur’s whole body.

A shiver runs down his spine and in an attempt to push his thoughts away, he begins undressing, starting with his tie. He hangs his jacket and shirt on the hanger by the door and the rest he puts on the chair, just as Merlin instructed. In no time, he’s standing there clad only in his underwear, debating whether to leave that on or not.

To hell with it. Merlin must have seen it all already.

He ends up ridding himself of his briefs too, face going aflame as he adds them to the pile on the chair and rushes to climb onto the table, settling on his stomach and doing his best to arrange the sheet Merlin provided for him so it covers him as much as possible.

A minute or two pass with him fidgeting in his position. Whether it’s from discomfort or nerves, he doesn’t know, but then Merlin is knocking gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls hoarsely, grateful Merlin can’t see his face.

The door clicks open and Merlin walks into the room, speaking from somewhere to Arthur’s left. “You probably already figured but one hour allows for a full body massage. Is that alright with you? Or do you want me to forgo any areas? Or spend some more time on a specific one?”

Logically, Arthur knows these are all valid questions but they do nothing to help him relax. More like the opposite.

“Um, no, that’s... you can do whatever you want.”

“Alright. Any contraindications I should know about?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.” Oh God, what did I just say? Stop trying to be funny, Arthur!

It draws a boisterous laugh from Merlin, easing some of Arthur’s tension. “Thanks for clarifying,” he says, catching his breath. “Any injuries?”

“No. I twisted my ankle playing football, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, good.” There is some rustling and thumping, then Merlin speaks again. “Do you care for any specific scent? I’ve got a variety of essential oils, energizing or calming. I have a special blend for stress relief if you’d be interested.”

Arthur winces a little at the fact he’s so easy to read. “Um... sure. But maybe not too much? I still need to go back to work after this.”

“Duly noted,” Merlin promises and busies himself with what Arthur assumes is mixing the oils or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take long, preventing Arthur from driving himself into a frenzy. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about all of this. So he never had a massage, so what? People do it all the time.

It’s just then that he notices that music is playing but it’s so soft it could almost escape his hearing. He focuses on listening in hopes of distracting himself.

“Okay, I’m all set. I’ll start with dry massage, working my way down from your shoulders. That alright with you?”

Yeah, he never had a massage but he’s pretty sure that asking for affirmation every two minutes isn’t how this usually works. It occurs to him that Merlin is doing this only for him.

He’s equal parts irritated and touched by it.

“Yeah.”

Gently, Merlin places his hands on his shoulders over the sheet. It’s just a simple touch, not even on his bare skin, but Arthur swears he can feel the heat of Merlin’s hands seeping into his own body and spreading throughout. He suppresses a sigh.

“I’ll start with medium pressure. Let me know if it’s too much or if you’d like me to go harder.”

Arthur hopes the whimper that makes it past his lips is not very audible. He clears his throat to cover it up.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his hands into the tense muscles of Arthur’s upper back, finding all the right spots from the get go.

A guttural groan escapes Arthur before he knows it.

“Too much?” Merlin asks, stilling his movement.

“N-no. No, it’s... it’s good. Just didn’t... expect it.”

“Good. Let me know if it changes.”

He stays on that area for a few minutes, lingering when he finds a sensitive spot, working out the kink. It’s a curious combination of pain-pleasure and Arthur is not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to feel like, but he knows it leaves him all pliant and floaty, so it’s probably alright.

Merlin makes his way down the spine, to his lower back, then goes back up and pays the same attention to his arms and hands.

He walks around the table and starts working on the legs.

Arthur releases a shuddering breath. He just had a leg-day in the gym yesterday and damn, can he feel it. Merlin’s touch is like a balm on his sore muscles and he exhales as pain gives way to relief.

It’s not long before Merlin comes back to the head of the table, hands grasping at the sheet.

“I’ll move onto the oil part now, yeah?”

“Okay.” At this point, Arthur will take anything. Why has he never done this before?

Merlin pulls the sheet down to his lower back, folding it over and leaving his back and arms exposed. The air of the room is not chilly by any means but Arthur shudders all the same.

There is a slick sound as Merlin covers his hands with oil before bringing them to Arthur’s shoulders again, spreading the oil over the whole expanse of his back and arms. Although the pressure is not as hard now, with the oil easing the way, Arthur finds this part even more intense, Merlin’s touch nearly searing without any barrier between them.

He glides his palms, fingers and forearms over Arthur’s back with long, confident strokes, then switches to short, firmer ones, alternating between the two.

Arthur’s vaguely aware he’s all but melting on the spot, feeling almost detached from his body despite every nerve ending being on fire.

At some point as Merlin rubs at the tense muscles of his neck, he slides his hands into Arthur’s hair, at the base of his skull, rubbing in circular motions.

This time, it’s definitely a whimper that Arthur lets out, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Merlin instructs in a gentle voice. “You carry a lot of tension here. Plenty of people do but you even more so. Just let go.”

Against his better judgment, he does just that. As Merlin’s hands continue their ministrations, he lets out a series of little huffs and whimpers, unable to stop himself when he starts.

“That’s it. Just let go,” Merlin repeats and puts more force behind his touch, making Arthur’s noises grow in volume.

He both welcomes and mourns the loss when Merlin’s hands leave him in order to grab a hot towel and wipe the remaining layer of oil from his back before covering him with the sheet again.

“I’ll move to your legs now, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s surprised when Merlin touches his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head. “Since I’m finished with your back, you can have a pillow if you want. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Arthur doesn’t object in the slightest, taking the pillow Merlin’s holding and resting his right cheek on it, sliding his hands underneath. Yeah, much more comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbles almost sleepily and hears Merlin chuckle.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then, Merlin is exposing his left leg, tucking the sheet in the space between his legs and over his hip, revealing his left butt-cheek in the process. He doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed.

Merlin doesn’t waste time before coating his hands with oil again and bringing them to Arthur’s leg. He starts with his feet, then moves to his calf, then thigh until he’s worked all the way to his bum.

Arthur nearly jack-knives from the table as Merlin’s thumb presses into the middle of his cheek.

“Sorry! Was it too much?”

Arthur presses his face into the pillow to hide his flush. “I... ugh... I just... didn’t expect... that.”

“Oh,” Merlin quips. “I can skip that part.”

Jesus, Arthur, stop being such a sissy. It’s just a massage. A professional massage.

“It’s fine. You just... surprised me.”

“Sorry about that,” he says genuinely and resumes the massage, albeit more tentative than before.

Now that the initial shock is over, Arthur begins to appreciate the attention Merlin’s paying to that particular part of his body. He never knew how tense he was in... well.... there.

He whines a little when Merlin presses his thumb into a tender spot.

“Shit. I would’ve thought that going to the gym four times a week would make up for sitting on my ass several hours every day,” he grumbles more to himself.

“I think you’re doing an excellent job at the gym,” Merlin replies with humor, then promptly freezes, Arthur following suit. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was... very inappropriate. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that you don’t have a nice ass. I mean... oh shit,” he starts panicking, removing his hands from Arthur’s body. Funny enough, witnessing Merlin freak out makes Arthur strangely relaxed.

He responds with a huff. “Take it easy, Merlin. I appreciate the compliment. You can continue.”

“Are you... are you sure?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“I’m sure. You like my ass, so what? I’ve been working hard on it.”

Merlin laughs, a bit nervous, a bit relieved, and eventually listens, resuming the massage on the other leg, starting from his foot again.

Maybe the whole exchange should make everything weird but strangely enough, Arthur is even more relaxed than he was before. The realization that Merlin is only human, with no filter it seems, making it easier.

Merlin hesitates when he works his way up to Arthur’s bum again, but with no complaint in sight, he repeats what he did on the other leg.

When he’s done, he steps to the side of the table and lifts the sheet off of Arthur, holding it in front of himself like a screen. “Can you turn over, Arthur?”

Arthur gathers all his strength to prop on his forearms with the intention to do just that, but stills momentarily.

“Arthur?” Merlin questions when nothing happens.

“I... um....” Well, shit. How did I not notice I was sporting a semi?!

“What’s wrong?”

“I... might have a... situation,” he admits, face burning.

At first, Merlin is silent, then the realization dawns on him. “Oh. I see. That’s fine, Arthur. It happens more often than not,” he reassures but it doesn’t help much.

“But I... God, this is embarrassing,” he hides his face in his hands.

“I understand why you would think that, but I promise it’s alright. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a natural reaction.”

It takes some more prompting but eventually, Arthur flips onto his back and closes his eyes as Merlin drapes the sheet over him again, the outline of his half-hard dick painfully visible.

“I can fetch you a blanket if it makes you feel better?”

“If you don’t mind,” he squeezes out without opening his eyes, only doing so when Merlin hands him the blanket and he rushes to throw it over his lower half. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

He dares a look at Merlin and finds him smiling in empathy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal, Arthur.” He reaches for a bottle of oil and puts his hands on Arthur’s arm. “Just lie back and relax.”

Arthur does his best to do just that while Merlin massages his arm and hand before switching to the other one.

By the time he’s finished with them, Arthur’s calmed down considerably and, thank fuck for that, the embarrassment was enough to have killed any interest his dick might have taken in the situation.

He expects Merlin to announce the massage has come to an end when he finishes wiping his arms with a hot towel, but to his surprise, Merlin slides a chair behind him, sitting himself down, hands coming to cradle Arthur’s head. Arthur lifts it automatically, assuming that’s what Merlin wants him to do.

“You just relax, Arthur. Don’t help me by holding your head up. I’ll manage.”

It’s not an easy thing to trust someone not to drop your head but Merlin is nothing but cautious as he maneuvers it around to get to the spot he’s aiming for and Arthur finds himself giving up control completely. Head massage doesn’t sound like anything special but to his bewilderment, it’s the most relaxing thing ever. At some point, he even starts dozing off. At least he thinks he does because he nearly jumps out of his skin when Merlin says his name.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he snaps his eyes open, looking up at Merlin upside down, seeing the other man smiling fondly.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“N-no?” he stutters, cheeks growing pink.

“Of course,” Merlin says in the way that screams he doesn’t believe him but humors him anyway. “Well, I’m all done here. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly disconnected from my body,” he says with a grunt, attempting to sit up. “Shit, I don’t know how I’ll get any work done for the rest of the day.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Officially? Around five. Actually? Seven. Sometimes eight.”

“God, that’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Thankfully, I don’t,” he agrees. “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s with sloth speed that Arthur puts his clothes on. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of Merlin’s busy schedule and can only hope he’s not stalling.

He squints at the bright light of the lobby when he emerges from the massage room. When his eyes adjust, he spots Merlin walking towards him with a glass of water. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” he accepts without objection, just because he’s barely standing. He doesn’t know what Merlin’s done to him but it feels like his body doesn’t even belong to him. He has no idea how he’s gonna drive back to work without driving himself into a street-lamp.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks when he’s chugged down the whole glass, reaching for his wallet.

“Oh. It’s already paid for. Freya used your credit card when she booked you in.”

Arthur blinks at him blankly. How dare Freya pay for something that Arthur hadn’t even agreed to yet?!

Yeah, as if she would ever take a no for an answer.

He sighs, pulling out a twenty pound bill regardless. “She would, wouldn’t she. That little shit,” he grumbles under his breath. “At least let me tip you,” he holds a hand with the bill to Merlin.

“Actually, she included the tip, too,” he says sheepishly, giving Arthur a crooked smile.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs indignantly, then takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Just take it.”

“But-”

“Merlin. Take. It. You’ve done a great job,” he insists, holding eye contact.

Merlin still hesitates at first but resigns eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur,” he smiles appreciatively as he accepts the money. He bites his lip, seemingly in thought, then turns around and plucks one business card from the pile on the desk, grabs a pen and writes something down. “Here,” he turns to Arthur, holding the card to him. “If you ever feel like coming back for another massage.”

Arthur takes the card, noticing that Merlin wrote another number on in besides the one already printed. “Thanks but... I’m sure Freya has the number.”

“This is my personal number,” Merlin explains and Arthur’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not always able to pick up the phone here but if you text me on my personal number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, that’s very... um... I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Merlin mumbles, fidgety. Arthur finds it both amusing and confusing.

“Well, I should get going. Thank you again.”

“Oh! Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he rushes to say. “See you next time?”

“Yeah.” As non-committal as he sounds, he finds he means it. Something’s telling him he’ll be back sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur,” Merlin calls as Arthur opens the door on his way out and his heart skips a beat at the genuine tone.

He turns around to give the man one last smile before the door shuts behind him.

“So? How was it?” Freya advances on him as soon as he comes back. He slumps into his chair, sitting upright when Freya places a box of takeout in front of him.

“Fine.” Freya is not impressed. “It was good, okay?” he adds, opening the box to reveal his all-time favorite pad thai and all but inhales the food.

“Told you,” she says smugly, ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Gonna go again?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s convincing.”

“Shut it, Freya,” he shoots back. “I got his business card. I’ll give him a call when I feel like it.”

“I can do that for you.”

“Nope, thanks. I’m sure I can manage to make a phone-call myself, even without an intervention of my obnoxious assistant.”

Freya throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Ungrateful prat,” she retorts and stomps out of his office.

“I heard that!”

Arthur lasts exactly four days and two hours before giving in and taking Merlin up on his offer to text him on his personal number to book another appointment. He didn’t expect to snap so quickly but after waking up the next day after his massage, refreshed and chirpy, feeling as though he had a brand new body - who could blame him, really.

Hey, Merlin. It’s Arthur. I was wondering if you had a slot available this week?

There, simple and straight to the point. Freya said that Merlin is usually booked out weeks in advance but asking never hurt anybody.

His phone chimes with an incoming message about ten minutes later.

Hi, Arthur! Nice to hear from you again. :)

Sure thing. Did you have a specific day and time in mind?

Nope, he didn’t. He was willing to adjust his schedule just to squeeze in an hour.

Not really. Freya implied that you’re usually fully booked so I thought I’d leave that up to you.

She’s over-exaggerating ;) I can make time.

Oh, God, he’s one of those people. Emojis and shit.

Oh. Okay, then. Thursday work for you?

It does :) What time?

This is... unexpectedly easy. He should have never let Freya bullshit him. But that’s what she does. She’d do anything to get her way and make Arthur do whatever she wants. No Christmas bonus for her this year!

Is 6pm too late?

As a matter of fact, he never finishes before six. Hell, he never finishes before seven. But maybe his friends are right. Maybe he should make time for himself once in a while. It won’t kill him, will it?

Thought you didn’t finish work until ungodly hour :D

He’s already typing out a reply but Merlin beats him to it with another message.

And it’s not too late. I’ll write you down for 6, then ;)

Oh. That easy, huh?

Thank you, he sends first, then rushes to add an explanation. I can make an exception once in a while. He hesitates with the next part but decides to throw caution to the wind, just this time. It’s worth it.

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but doesn’t get a chance to wallow in it for too long before Merlin’s reply comes.

Oh no, now there are expectations I need to live up to :O

Jk. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself last time. See you Thursday ;)

Red to the tips of his ears, he types out a quick see you before pocketing his phone, busying himself with the remaining paperwork in hopes it will calm down his racing heart.

He’s not that lucky.

On Thursday, he wraps up his work just before 5:30, hoping it’s enough time to get through the traffic.

It is, as it turns out.Though he’s cutting it close, parking the car just two minutes before six.

“Sorry, I underestimated the traffic,” he rushes to apologize when he bursts through the door, finding Merlin lounging peacefully on the sofa, swiping through his phone.

As soon as Merlin lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s, his whole face lights up with a wide smile. “Hey! No problem at all. You’re my last massage for today, so no rush.”

“Thanks but it’s already late. I don’t wanna keep you any more than needed.”

Merlin dismisses his worries with a wave of a hand. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on in,” he smiles encouragingly and Arthur dutifully follows him to the massage room. It looks exactly the same but Arthur feels much more at ease than last time, now that he’s familiar with it.

“Thank you again for finding time for me,” he says gratefully because it feels like he hasn’t said it enough.

It earns him an indulgent smile. “I was happy to do it. It’s no trouble, really,” Merlin repeats and Arthur takes the hint.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. “You know the drill by now, right? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Merlin nods his head in acknowledgement, leaving the room to give Arthur privacy.

Similarly to last time, Arthur hangs his suit and shirt and folds the rest of his clothes, laying face down on the table and covering himself with the sheet. As promised, Merlin knocks on the door a couple minutes later, entering when Arthur gives him a go-ahead.

“Any requests today?”

He suppresses the urge to crack an inappropriate joke. “Not really. Same as last time is good.”

“Alright,” says Merlin and he starts the massage exactly in the same way he did last time, humming appreciatively when he rubs at Arthur’s shoulders.

“You’re not nearly as tense as before. Both literally and figuratively,” he points out.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “I felt really good when I woke up the next day. All loose and relaxed.” He clears his throat, cringing at his wording. “And I was just nervous because it was my first time, I guess. Now that I know the ropes, it’s easy to just...”

“Let go?” Merlin finishes for him and... is that smugness he hears?

“Y-yeah,” he replies, feeling silly all of sudden.

“I’m glad to hear that. Glad I could help.”

“Me too.”

They remain silent after that. While Merlin doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary - or rather, anything that would be different to last time - Arthur can sense a shift in the energy in the room. In Merlin. In himself. He might be imagining it but he would swear that Merlin’s hands... linger - which is kinda a stupid thing to say, this is a massage after all, touch is a crucial component here - but... yeah... that’s what it feels like.

Every touch of Merlin’s hands on his body feels amplified, Arthur nearly vibrating in response to... he has no idea what he’s responding to. He only knows it feels good.

It feels right.

When Merlin asks him to flip onto his back, he’s relieved to find that the humiliating experience from last time is not gonna be repeated - no awkward boners today, ladies and gentlemen!

He hisses through his teeth when Merlin presses into a tender spot of his arm.

Merlin’s immediately apologetic. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to be so sensitive here.”

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles drowsily. “I might have overdone it in the gym today.”

“When did you have time to go to the gym?”

“Before work. Around five.”

“God, that’s disgusting. Why would you do that?” Merlin sounds truly appalled which only amuses Arthur.

“I’m too tired by the time I finish work. At least this way, I get a bit of a boost in the morning.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Without the gym, I wouldn’t have the ass you like so much.”

He snaps his eyes open in panic and finds Merlin gaping at him in shock.

“I... I did not... ugh...”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that, I swear! I’m just really tired, basically falling asleep. I just talk shit when I’m like that.”

Forget the boner. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Funnily enough, his stammering helps Merlin fight through his shock and now he’s more entertained than anything.

“No filter, huh? I can relate,” he brushes the whole thing off and resumes massaging over Arthur’s arm, softer this time and Arthur would moan appreciatively at the soothing effect the touch has on his sore muscles but given his previous faux pas, he doesn’t think it’s the right time for it.

Merlin works his way down to his hand, paying special attention to the spot at the base of his thumb that is always so stiff after spending hours and hours every day typing on his laptop.

A weird thing happens after that. Same as the last time, Merlin slides his fingers in between Arthur’s, squeezing and pulling until he hears a cracking sound of the joints. That is all well and good but instead of pulling away, he remains with their fingers interlaced. It almost feels... almost feels like they are holding hands.

Arthur opens his eyes again to give Merlin a questioning look but Merlin is staring at their joined hands instead, an expression on his face that Arthur can’t really decipher but if he were to guess, he would almost call it... longing.

Merlin must realize what he’s doing because his eyes widen as they lock onto Arthur’s, panicked and so blue.

“Sorry!” he blurts out, pulling away and ducking his head as he makes his way to the other side to repeat the process on the other hand.

Arthur feels the air around them grow thicker. He doesn’t know what happened exactly and doesn’t dare ask.

He can tell Merlin keeps himself in check as he finishes with his other side and it’s not long before he moves to the head massage.

After all of that, it’s really hard for Arthur to relax but he does his best as to not make things even more awkward.

He’s equally relieved and disappointed when Merlin’s hands disappear, signaling that their session has come to an end.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?” Merlin asks stiffly.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding when Merlin shuts the door behind him.

Since he knows he doesn’t have to rush because he was the last client today, he takes his time putting the clothes on and mentally prepares himself for facing Merlin in a few moments.

It takes all of his courage to maintain eye contact when he leaves the room, coming to the desk where Merlin’s already waiting for him with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t finish the whole glass, his stomach too unsettled for that and pulls out his wallet.

“I know for sure Freya didn’t pay in advance since I booked the massage myself this time,” he comments in what he hopes is a light-hearted tone. It works because it draws a chuckle from Merlin.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, going quiet again but shaking himself off at Arthur’s expectant look. “Oh! Sorry, it’s seventy pounds.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow in surprise. While he wouldn’t know anything about the regular massage price, it doesn’t seem too much considering how popular Merlin is. According to Freya, anyway.

He plucks out two fifty dollar bills and hands them over. Merlin blinks at him in confusion. “Um... that’s a bit--”

“Just take it. You deserve it. You’re good and you went far and beyond to make time for me even at the late hour.”

“It was no tr--”

“Merlin, will you shut up and take the bloody money?” he nearly whines at the man’s stubbornness, relieved when Merlin eventually gives in.

“You’re so bossy,” he shakes his head almost fondly.

“Goes with the territory. I’m the CEO after all.”

“In that case, that was a lousy tip for a CEO.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

And just like that, the tension has disappeared and they are back to their easy banter.

“I’m just teasing,” Merlin reassures unnecessarily, a dopey smile still in place. “Let me know if you wanna do this again, yeah?” He sounds unsure, although why, Arthur has no idea.

“Actually, if you really don’t mind, could we make it a weekly thing?”

“Oh,” Merlin says with surprise. “Sure. Thursday again? Or do you want a different day?”

“Thursday is good. Six o’clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, works for me.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles back. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Looking forward to it.” The way Merlin’s face softens further shouldn’t make Arthur’s stomach do flip-flops but for some reason, it does.

Oh, no. Abort, abort!

“Yeah. See you,” he mumbles and all but runs to his car.

Arthur lets out a girly squeal when Freya slams a pile of papers onto his desk.

“Why haven’t you gone see Merlin again?” she asks accusingly and... wait, what?

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you liked the massage. That you felt better after. I thought you’d go back.”

Well, not that it’s any of her business but...

“I’ve been like four more times since,” he argues back, watching Freya’s furious expression turn confused.

“No, you haven’t. There’s no way you could have altered your schedule yourself without me noticing.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, annoyed that he, the fucking CEO, has to explain himself to his assistant. “Yes, I have. I’m going today, actually. I go every Thursday after work. Well, I finish early, so I can be there at six. Which, by the way, you could have done the first time around. I truly don’t understand why you’d rather mess with my appointments to get me a rushed massage on my break instead of simply booking one in the evening.”

If anything, Freya grows even more confused. “You’re lying.”

Arthur positively bristles at the insult. “I’m not!”

“You so are. Merlin doesn’t work evenings. And he doesn’t work weekends. His last bookings are for 4 o’clock. Hence why I had to book you for your break.”

He’s already preparing a come-back to defend himself when the words finally sink in. He snaps his mouth shut.

Then why... why did Merlin agree to Thursday evenings? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you sure you’ve got that right?” he asks instead because... because if it’s true, it puts many things into perspective.

Like the fact that Merlin literally beams every time Arthur shows up.

Or the fact that his touch seems to linger, seems to grow more and more intense with every visit. Like he’s enjoying touching Arthur.

At first, Arthur thought it was just his imagination, but upon checking the time when he got to his car only to find Merlin had extended the massage by at least ten or fifteen minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t making it up.

Most importantly, it would explain why Merlin started texting Arthur randomly, usually on Fridays to ask how he was doing, if he felt alright and so on.

It would even explain why he would sometimes text on the weekend too.

It did not explain why Arthur indulged in the texting.

It did not explain why it was the highlight of his days.

“I’m sure,” Freya replies, confirming his growing suspicion. When he doesn’t react, she turns concerned. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “You’re not lying.” A statement, not a question, but he still answers it.

“No.”

“Oh,” she breathes, out of words.

“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you know why Merlin would make an exception for me?”

The glint in her eyes suggests that she might have a good idea about that, but doesn’t say so. “I think you should ask Merlin that.”

Yeah. Yeah, he should.

He will.

“You seem very... serious today. What happened?”

“Why did you agree on 6pm Thursdays?” he asks directly before he loses the nerve.

“Huh?” Merlin blinks at him.

“Freya told me you don’t do evenings. Why would you let me impose on your time?” God, he feels so stupid.

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Well, first of all, you’re not imposing.”

“But-”

“Second, working for yourself has a lot of perks. Like that I can do with my time as I see fit.”

“So you decided to spend it on me.”

“More like spend it with you.”

Spend it with-- oh. Oh.

“What? Why?”

Unexpectedly, Merlin snorts. “You don’t know?”

No. No he doesn’t.

“No.”

“Oh, my, you’re a right dumbass.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, apparently running out of patience. “I simply like you, okay? At first, I agreed because you seemed like you could use some relaxation. Quite a bit of it, really.”

Arthur bites his lip, hesitating with the next question. “And then?”

Merlin sighs, shoulders sagging almost in defeat. “And then I just liked seeing you.”

Arthur takes in a shaky breath, both startled and excited by the admission. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, then?”

Merlin laughs, but there’s very little humor in it. “That’s hardly professional, Arthur.”

“That’s what worried you?”

“Of course it did! It does! Jesus, Arthur, you have no idea,” he shakes his head, “no idea how much I have to hold myself back when I have my hands all over you.”

Arthur swallows audibly, noticing for the first time how dry his throat has gotten. Well, here goes nothing.

”What if... what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

Merlin stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his gaze roaming over Arthur’s face in search of something. Probably a confirmation.

“Arthur, that’s not--”

“It’s 6:02,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“It’s two minutes past six. You should have started with the massage by now.”

Initially, Merlin doesn’t respond, looking as though Arthur’s talking in a different language. When Arthur holds his eyes, hoping to prove his point, he resigns on any further arguments.

“Come on in then,” he instructs tiredly and Arthur follows him to the room. He’s shedding his jacket even before they get there. He hangs it and starts taking off his tie just as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Okay, I’ll let you--” He cuts himself off when Arthur pulls the tie over his head, throwing it on the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t bother,” he says, too pleased with himself when Merlin stays rooted to the spot, openly staring.

“Uh...” Is all he manages when Arthur gets rid of the shirt, exposing his chest (which - it’s not like Merlin’s never seen it before anyway) and begins working his belt and trousers open. Soon, he’s pulling them down together with his briefs, stepping out of his shoes in the meantime.

As he straightens up, completely naked, he takes a few seconds to appreciate the way Merlin looks at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Lips twisting into a smug smile, he turns to the table to climb on it, settling on his stomach as he does every time, except now he doesn’t bother covering himself up with a sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he calls with barely concealed amusement when Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, let me just...” he stutters, reaching for the sheet.

“Leave it.”

“W-what?”

“No point.”

“But--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says darkly, “leave it.”

Thank fuck, Merlin actually listens and abandons the sheet in favor of grabbing a bottle of oil, pouring some in his hands with trembling fingers.

“Arthur...” he tries one more time, hesitant.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns. “Shut up.”

He hears Merlin exhale shakily and then, the familiar sensation of oil-slicked hands takes over all of his senses. He sighs in relief when the touch causes his body to go completely lax as it always does.

Merlin’s hands are unusually tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s got Arthur’s permission to touch him - like this - after what he admitted to him. It’s for that reason that Arthur starts making deliberate noises of pleasure, humming softly, or outright groaning and moaning when Merlin arrives to a particularly sensitive spot.

Above him, Merlin begins making noises of his own, but he sounds more pained than anything. Out of curiosity, Arthur turns his head to the side to peer at Merlin, just to be able to see what expression is on his face right now.

He doesn’t get that far because all of his attention is stolen by the very visible, very prominent bulge pressing against the front of Merlin’s trousers.

“Shit,” he utters before he can stop himself, feeling his dick twitch helplessly where it’s almost squashed between his body and the table.

Immediately, Merlin freezes on the spot, his breath hitching.

“I... Arthur...”

Arthur lets out another moan at witnessing Merlin’s obvious desire for him and returns his head to the previous position.

“You can do my legs now,” he says suggestively, but it sounds more like an order. For a moment, nothing happens. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hands but he doesn’t move either. Arthur is about to impatiently prompt him to action but in the end, Merlin goes willingly, moving around the table until he’s standing at Arthur’s feet.

He covers his left leg with oil and proceeds to massage it from the foot up, almost as if nothing unusual is happening.

It’s not until he makes his way past the knee, to the hamstrings and inner thigh, that Arthur feels him falter, the pressure letting off and in a desperate attempt to urge Merlin on, he spreads his legs further apart.

Behind him, Merlin makes a choked off sound, his grip on Arthur’s thigh tightening.

“A-Arthur,” he says like a prayer and Arthur feels himself grow harder the lower Merlin’s voice drops.

“Go on,” he orders and this time, Merlin recovers faster, sparing barely a few seconds before he starts rubbing his thigh in circular motion, slowly working his way up, up, all the way to his ass - his very exposed ass.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, barely audible, but Arthur hears him all the same. He knows what he’s asking and in lieu of an answer, he digs his knees into the table to push his hip up and back, groaning when the movement provides friction to his now fully erect cock.

“Do it,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

Merlin makes an indescribable sound and then his slick fingers are dipping tentatively between his cheeks, brushing against his entrance.

Arthur feels his pulse quicken, heat spreading throughout his whole body at the single touch.

“Gods, Arthur, the sounds you make...” Merlin praises, rubbing at his opening in tiny circles.

“Merlin,” he returns, attempting to spread his legs further apart. Merlin all but growls at the display and then he’s bending over to pepper kisses over Arthur’s naked shoulders, even as his fingers press against him more insistently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Arthur,” he mumbles into his skin and Arthur trembles at the soft-spoken words.

“Fuck me,” he moans, hitching his hips up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, Arthur, you can’t just.... can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just hurry up and get on with it,” he tries to sound irritated but it falls flat when a whine is torn out of his throat as Merlin enters him with one finger.

“Shit. Shit...”

“Payback,” Merlin laughs, kissing just behind his ear.

“Merlin, I swear to God...”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he retorts with fondness and starts pumping the finger in and out.

Satisfied when Merlin actually listens, Arthur is able to relax again, offering himself to Merlin’s skilled hands.

He is nothing but gentle as he works Arthur open, adding more oil before a second finger joins the first, then a third one.

Under him, Arthur’s rolling his hips against the table, seeking as much friction as he can because Merlin’s taking too bloody long, checking on him every two fucking minutes. Just as he’s about to call him out, the fingers brush against his prostate, successfully stealing all the words out of his mouth, together with his breath.

“Fuck,” he grips at the edge of the table, struggling to breathe.

Merlin chuckles at his reaction. “You like that?” he asks smugly, totally unhelpful and unnecessary and hits that spot again.

“Would l-like it better if you f-finally got your dick in m-me,” he trips over his tongue, panting.

“Impatient,” Merlin clicks his tongue but before Arthur can tell him where he can stick it (pun intended), Merlin’s fingers leave him.

His breath hitches at the sudden emptiness and in hopes of speeding up the process, he gathers his strength to hitch himself up until he’s on all fours. He expects Merlin to climb up behind him but instead, there’s a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to twist to the side.

“Not like that,” Merlin explains, nudging him until he’s turned over completely, facing him. “I want to see you.”

Arthur wants to crack a joke, call Merlin sappy and whatnot, but he can only blush.

“Oh.”

“Can you sit on the edge?” Merlin instructs, helping him to get into position. He manages just fine by himself, sitting on the side of the table with his legs hanging off. He watches, mesmerized, as Merlin rids himself of his T-shirt and trousers in under ten seconds, feeling accomplished at seeing him so impatient himself even though he chastised Arthur for it only minutes ago.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, hearing the blood rush in his ears. Merlin gives him a dark look, clearly disapproving of his tone, and takes the final step until he’s standing between his open thighs, grabbing him by the hips and pulling forward.

The movement is so sudden that it sends Arthur flat onto his back, hips hanging off the table. Merlin nudges him to wrap his legs around him and braces himself against the edge with his hands.

“You’re such a bloody tease,” he chides with a shake of his head.

“Shut up, Mer-- fuuuck,” he nearly chokes as Merlin’s cock breaches him without a warning, sliding in fully with one push. “Shit.”

“Okay?” Merlin checks with a quake in his voice, proving he’s not as collected as he makes himself to be.

“Y-yeah. Just move already.”

Merlin chuckles. “So bossy.” Then proceeds to do just that. He pulls back almost completely before pushing back in, again, and one more time until he’s settling into a rhythm.

It takes Arthur a couple more minutes to catch his breath but when he does, he focuses on meeting Merlin halfway, although the position barely allows it.

“M-Merlin.”

Merlin snaps his hips almost violently at hearing his name tumble from Arthur’s lips in that tone and Arthur moans loudly when he drives directly into his prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, Merlin. R-right there.”

“God, Arthur. It‘s so good. You’re so good.”

Arthur keens at the praise, urging Merlin to go faster.

Instead, Merlin halts all the movement, earning a desperate whine from Arthur. He chuckles at the reaction and leans forward to slide his hands underneath him to pull him up until he’s sitting up, their chests close enough to touch.

“Arthur,” he whispers in the space between them before there’s none because suddenly, Merlin’s crashing their lips together, unexpected and so good. He swallows the surprised sound from Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth.

Arthur moans in agreement, wrapping him in his arms and deepening the kiss.

Merlin grabs him by the hips again and starts a new rhythm, his thrust shorter but harder.

Arthur whimpers against his lips, squeezing Merlin between his thighs. He gives up any effort to help Merlin out and decides to kiss the living hell out of him while Merlin plows his ass.

It works just fine and it’s not long before Merlin’s thrusts grow erratic and uncoordinated.

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out between kisses. “I’m gonna...”

Instead of replying, Arthur takes his lips in another kiss and clenches around his cock, drawing a hiss from him.

“Arthur!”

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages and clenches his ass again.

Merlin manages two, three, four more thrusts before he stills, buried to the hilt and spills himself inside Arthur. He presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, panting against the sweaty skin while his hips continue their subtle grinding motion.

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple, sliding his fingers through the dark locks, marveling at the silkiness.

Merlin lifts his head to peer at him from under his lashes. His pupils are blown wide, overtaking all the blue of his irises. There’s a lovely flush to his cheeks and the way his fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is almost endearing.

Arthur’s never seen him like this and he wants to appreciate the view but doesn’t get much time because then, Merlin is untangling his legs from around him and slides to his knees in front of Arthur. He gives him a little smirk before opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock.

“Nngh!” Arthur yelps with surprise, throwing his head back in unexpected pleasure.

“Shit, Merlin.”

Merlin hums around his cock and starts sucking him in earnest. It feels so good he can’t even feel embarrassed when he feels Merlin’s come leaking out of him and to his shock, he also feels Merlin’s fingers slide into him again, hitting his prostate with deadly precision. “Merlin!”

It barely takes another half a minute before Arthur’s screaming himself hoarse as his orgasm overtakes him and he comes in Merlin’s mouth. Still, Merlin’s mouth doesn’t leave him, working him through his release instead until he’s whimpering from over-sensitivity and pulling at his hair to pry him off.

Merlin releases his cock with an obscene sound that echoes in the small room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up between Arthur’s open legs.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks and Arthur can’t help but laugh.

“Are you for real?” Merlin just blinks at him. “We should have done that ages ago, instead of the massage.”

Merlin groans in annoyance. “That’s not the nature of my business, Arthur!”

His irritation only amuses Arthur further. “You could make an exception for me,” he teases, pulling Merlin closer and Merlin goes willingly, although the scowl is still on his face.

“That depends on how much you’ll tip me,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I’ll tip you all you want, Merlin.”

Merlin slaps the back of his head gently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. But I think you like it,” he says smugly, pulling him into another kiss, letting out a moan when he tastes himself on his lips.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who just got fucked on a massage table.”

“You mean for someone who just talked his masseur into fucking him on a massage table.”

“I think manipulated is better-fitting.”

“Or seduced.”

Merlin scoffs. “You did not seduce me.”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “I’d say you gave it up pretty easy after seeing me in my birthday suit.”

“I did not!”

“You did, though.”

“Your mind is misleading you.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur concludes dismissively, then gives Merlin a wicked grin. “Next time, you’re gonna lie down on this table and I’m gonna ride you.”

Unsursprisingly, Merlin all but chokes on thin air. “That... uh... sounds... agreeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.”

“Just because you make it so easy.”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin,” he huffs. “Shut up. And kiss me again.”

And for once, without a single protest, Merlin does just that.

OMFG, Merlin! You DIDN'T!

Huh?

Don't "huh" me! You know bloody well!

Apparently not.

You fucked my boss!

!!! JFC, I can't believe he told you! :O

I sent him your way so he got that stick out of his ass. Not for you to replace it with your dick!

He didn't. His limp did, jsyk.

He could have hurt his leg or something...

And he brought me coffee. He'd never brought me coffee before! I've never seen him in such a good mood!

Your welcome :-*

*You're

That's disgusting. I'm never getting a massage from you ever again!

Oh, well... it was worth it :-p

*Freya has left the chat*

#bottom!arthur #merthur #top!merlin #massage #bottom arthur fest

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years ago

Text

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

#writing #wickedswriting #chatzy #threadofheart #irene #something seams off

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joheun-saram · 5 years ago

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To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger's house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn��t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous.

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

____________________________

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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