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Honey VIII

Read Honey here | ~6.3k words

From me: Last part! Glad you enjoyed! 💕

Warnings: angst, blood, hospital stuff, some fluff. I actually think it's terrible so I apologize if you're like 'this is the dumbest thing I've ever read.'

Summary: “Please, love. Cece needs you,” he whispered.

She shook her head at the thought. Cece didn’t need her. She was just the nanny.

“You’re not just the nanny.”

Harry was already suspicious when the alarm company called him and there was no subsequent text from Miss Honey. It was evident the power had gone out again. But he headed home to make sure things were okay. Only because he knew the service was so spotty when the power went out. Harry didn’t think anything of it because his mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts of the pretty girl that loved his daughter and tasted better than he ever could have imagined.

Despite their awkward breakfast, he was pretty sure her duties would come first. Even if he was planning on letting her go.

It took a lot of thought over the last few days, but he decided he couldn’t be in love with someone who worked for him. He couldn’t have sex with someone he was paying to live there. It felt wrong ten times over. She wouldn’t be his nanny anymore, but he was praying it wouldn’t mean she would be leaving his house any time soon, either.

Harry was so distracted by his thoughts of telling her right when he got in that he didn’t even notice the light at the end of the driveway was on.

When he pulled into the driveway he hurried out of the car and rushed through the house. “Hey love,” he called. “Everything okay? The power is probably still weird from the storm...” he was shedding his jacket, his work bag tossed to the side. He threw his lunch bag down too, clunking with the Tupperware he brought home from Niall and himself. “Listen, we gotta talk—”

All thoughts of said talk were gone when he approached the sitting room.

The shattered glass of one of his windows decorated the floor like the worst confetti he could possibly imagine. Her phone was on the counter displaying exactly zero of the tens of texts and calls Harry had sent her. And her smart watch was tossed haphazardly on the ground, leading toward the backdoor.

Perhaps of course, most notably and most terrifyingly, there was no sign of Cece.

Harry felt a thousand emotions course through him. He wanted to scream and claw his heart out to make it stop hurting. Doubt clouded his mind briefly and nearly brought him to his knees. His trust wavering again. Was it all a trick? No. Never. It couldn’t have been. That was... that wasn’t something that could be faked.

Dinner wasn’t awaiting him, and he hadn’t even come to expect it but now that it wasn’t there, he hated the way he felt. Aching and longing for something he didn’t want—didn’t think he could have. She was supposed to have Cece wrapped around her pretty body, kissing her hair, and telling her how to make whatever was on the menu for the evening. He was supposed to be falling for how pretty she looked with his baby, their baby. Because Cece and Harry didn’t stand a chance. They fell for her. Hard.

Something happening to his baby made him nauseous and weak. His hands were shaking as he reached for his phone but was met without service. One of the last untraumatized brain cells in his mind began to take over. A slow rational thought. What if doubt wasn’t needed? What if she was in danger as much as Cece? Harry felt his stomach churn violently again. A film of sweat coated every inch of his body at once.

Right as he sincerely thought he was going to throw up or pass out, there was a faint muffled sound.

The sound of crying.

If the house wasn’t silent, even if there was only the hum of the refrigerator, he might have missed it. But it was silent. Not a sound. Except a cry.

Harry sprinted up the steps. Taking two at a time and listening to the muffled noise. He hurried to his bedroom. He noted his journal was askew on his bed, open and spine bent; a pen tossed against the comforter as well. The crying was louder, coming from his closet.

He nearly ripped the door off the hinges and crouched down to the little one on the floor. “Oh, baby girl,” he cooed and the relief he felt was so crushing he still thought he might pass out. The relief was downright overwhelming. The whooshing in his ears was so loud. He was a little worried he might drop poor Cece in his dizziness. “S’okay, baby. Daddy’s here,” he kissed her wet cheeks. He was saddened by how tear-soaked they were. “M’here,” his voice cracked as he pressed his lips along her face. “M’sorry, sweet girl.”

It was so dark in his room, and he wanted to see her and make sure she was physically okay. He couldn’t hold Cece close enough. His heart felt the slightest bit better—marginally. “What happened, baby?” He frowned. Her little sobs started to subside.

He turned the flashlight on his phone and glanced around the dark closet. Harry noted Cece’s favorite little stuffy first. Purposefully placed right where he scooped her up from. Harry grabbed it, handing it to Cece now that she had calmed down a bit. Her little shoulders shaking made his heart hurt.

His eyes noted the piece of paper ripped from his journal next. Her handwriting wasn’t neat and pretty like he had seen in recipes or the notes she left writing Dada and Niall on lunches. This was scribbled quickly, messy. Hurried.

H—

I’m SO sorry, I saw something... I hid her.

His stomach rolled. New fear taking over but just as powerful as the one he felt about Cece. Maybe worse in some ways. Because at least he knew where Cece was and knew that she did everything she could to keep her safe.

“Cece,” he croaked. Harry wanted her to stay little forever. But right then, he wished she could speak. “Where’s Miss Honey?”

*

The police investigation was just like a movie. There were more people at his house than he could fathom. There were telephones with secured lines tracking and pinging possible leads. The power was back on, and the security company sent the footage they had directly to the police.

Often kidnappings that lasted over twenty-four hours didn’t bode well.

So, when hour forty-three approached Harry was feeling beyond helpless, beyond hopeless. Cece losing the most maternal figure in her life made him feel like death warmed over. He didn’t answer a single work call. He couldn’t. His only thoughts were of her and how fucked up it felt. Anne and Gemma came and took Cece. Niall was watching the company and spending as much time with Harry as humanly possible.

He raked his hands through his hair again trying to piece together the image of the two men in masks that he had been staring at for the last thirty hours wondering who would want to hurt him so badly.

They were good. Even if they were dumb enough to take safety away from Harry.

The human body could last about three days without water. He prayed that whoever took the sweet girl didn’t want her dead as it approached day two.

*

Her head was killing her. This was the worst hangover she ever felt. Her body felt weak. She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue felt just as dry. The floor was cold and the time asleep felt like nothing. The voices down the hall were back. They had been coming back and forth for the time she had been here. Deciding if killing her was faster than letting her just die naturally. Painfully.

Her blinks felt slow. The cramps in her stomach and legs didn’t even hurt anymore. She hoped Cece was okay and that Harry didn’t hate her for leaving her alone. Cece wasn’t alone for long—at least she hoped she wasn’t. Hopefully Harry found her shortly after she was yanked out of his home. Cece would have woken up alone in the dark and it made her stomach hurt worse than the hunger pains or dehydration setting in.

How long had it been? Time didn’t have meaning anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. Without water, she was fucked. She was merely collateral damage. Nothing more. Cece was safe. That was what she needed to remember and hold onto while her mind played tricks on her. They didn’t care about her—that much was obvious. She was cold, dehydrated, exhausted, and worried.

Harry was going to hate her. What if they went back for Cece? What if it wasn’t enough? If she had the physiology to produce tears and didn’t lack liquid, she would have cried.

“Hey love,” Harry whispered. She knew it was a figment of her imagination. Without water she was hallucinating. She didn’t answer him. It was too painful. “Y’need t’get out of here,” his voice had a pleading tone to it. But she was tired. She could barely move... let alone think. “Please, love. Cece needs you,” he whispered.

She shook her head at the thought. Cece didn’t need her. She was just the nanny.

“You’re not just the nanny.”

Hope infiltrated her heart. It was so unfair the hallucination would dangle that line of thinking in front of her. Even if it was her own subconscious trying to convince her. But she was. Harry had Cece. That’s what mattered more than anything else. Her family had hardly seen her in years. “C’mon, baby, please,” he begged.

She slowly sat up against the wall and it felt like she was going to fall right back over. Her eyelids fluttered, aching to close with how exhausted she felt. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Now y’gotta stand,” he reminded her. She swayed too much to feel like she had the strength to stand. But somehow, she did. Leaning back along the wall. Her hands were tied behind her. Her feet duct taped together. The voices from the other side of the house had disappeared again, a door closed. Faintly, she heard the crunch of gravel and tires exiting the driving away. She was alone again.

There was no furniture in the room, but she had been staring at the same four walls for who knew how long and there was nothing she could do to escape.

But there had to be something right?

The Harry she had conjured up was silent as he watched her. Even her brain was too tired, half alive, to make him talk. Moving painfully slow across the room wiggling awkwardly so she didn’t fall flat on her face with her feet duct taped together. She stared out the window. Freedom so close she could cry. It was her only hope, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She stared at the sill, the panes, through exhausted eyes. The strength it took to stand was hard. There was no way she could bust out the glass if she wanted to. “I know, baby, but y’gotta figure it out,” Harry begged.

She dropped onto the ground again, worried she would disappoint her hallucination. But only finally saw a glimmer of hope when she thought about passing out again. Her butt ached because she still hadn’t fully healed from the bruise she got from her fall in Harry’s office. She rolled onto her side and felt around for the metal heat vent cover protruding from the wall that she caught a glance of when she thought about falling onto the ground and just giving up.

She felt behind her, blindly and awkwardly, with her fingers for the lip of the cover closest to the floor. She pulled on it, hoping it was sharp. It was, given it sliced her finger making her hiss. She aimed lower on her arm. Getting the corner of the cover to line up with her wrists, she slowly sawed through. It cut her arm several times and now she worried on top of dehydration she was going to lose some blood too.  Hopefully the cuts weren’t too deep, but her body was nearing numbness from how tired she was and she had no way of knowing how hard she injured herself from behind. She hoped this wasn’t part of her hallucination because it would be entirely unfair to make it out in her head only to continue to be trapped.

Once her arms were free, her shoulders felt achy, and she cried out at the relief of stretching them forward. Because of the blood, it was hard to get the duct tape to peel at her ankles. It took even longer for it to rip off. She stood again, bracing herself on the windowsill. She lifted her sore arm to unlock the window in the middle of the panes. She pushed on the window, but it stuck. She whimpered. “You can do it,” he whispered. “C’mon, kitten, you’re almost there. I’ll come find you, I promise.” Her hallucination was so nice she thought about just laying back down and letting him lull her to sleep. “No, no,” he shook his head. “You’re almost out, baby. I promise.”

She groaned and pushed the window out of the way enough to wiggle her body through. She fell to ground outside with a thud and she again, strongly considered just lying there on the cold dirt because it felt better than trying to stand. “One more time, kitten. M’not too far.”

How could her hallucination possibly know he wasn’t too far? That was a horrible thing to allow herself to hope. But she stood, half blind from her exhaustion. Then followed the tire tracks out of the driveway and down the dirt road. She was sure she looked drunk. Or maybe more like a zombie. But she just wanted to find someone. She was aching everywhere and felt weaker than when she was laying down. Her heartbeat was too fast, the blood she had in her system sounded like a hurricane in her ears.

She could have walked only fifty steps down that road, or she could have walked a mile. She wasn’t sure. Time was different now. Like it was moving backwards, forwards, and standing still all at once.

There was the sound of tires and she was so tired, her eyes barely opened. So scared and exhausted. Even her hallucination had abandoned her. It was over. She was done for, so it didn’t matter how tired she was. How hopeful she was. She dropped to one knee and then the other. Her body crumpling under her own weight. Right before her head smacked into the hard ground something caught her.

“Holy shit,” it felt weird that she would suddenly hallucinate Niall’s voice as well. That didn’t seem fair to Harry.

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His hallucination was so close to her face. She could smell his breath, minty. She sighed with relief, melting into his imaginary body. He was warm, solid, and she was glad he was there even if it was just her imagination allowing her one last moment with Harry regardless of if he was real or not.

Then she was floating, and she was sure she had died.

*

Harry stepped into her hospital room after they completed their tests. He had been waiting impatiently for the okay to see her once she woke up. It had been hours of pacing. The drive from the place he found her nearly crumpling, half-conscious was terrifying beyond anything he could have imagined. He cradled her in his arms in the backseat practically sobbing as it felt like Niall was purposefully driving slower to the hospital. Harry was so scared; he used a napkin to dab water on her lips as she slipped in and out of a wakeful state. “We’re almost there, sweetheart, please hang on,” he begged and pushed her hair away from her eyes. Harry got blood on his clothes that dripped from her fingers and wrists. Harry wanted to scream.

But now, she looked better, and he didn’t want to think about that drive again as long as he lived. She was severely dehydrated. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her skin was paler than normal but was slowly returning to her natural color. He was so grateful she was alive and there.

In every sense of the word, she was so beautiful it practically hurt him to look at her.

The second their gaze connected she began sobbing.

“I’m. So. Sorry.” She sniveled. “Is she okay?! Please tell me that she’s okay. No one has told me. I swear I’m going to be sick,” she moaned. “Please, please, please—”

Harry grabbed her hand quickly and squeezed it. “She’s perfect, love,” he whispered softly, reassuringly. Carefully, he cupped her face, wiping his thumb on her cheek soothingly. “Not a hair out of place.”

Her relief just caused more tears to fall. “You’re sure? You took her to a doctor? I left her alone, Harry. After you told me that...” her voice choked off, shaking her head, and looking at her hands. “She didn’t get a UTI? She wasn’t dehydrated from being stuck in—?“

“Miss Honey,” Harry murmured unable to keep the adoration out of his voice as he said the nickname of the sweet girl. “She’s fine. We’re going t’worry ‘bout you for a bit,” he squeezed her hand encouragingly. “You had me scared, love. More than that. I thought I lost you. That was terrifying.”

She sniffled, her shoulders shaking while she tried to wipe her eyes, but the tears were too quick. “Can I see her?”

“She’s with m’mum,” he assured her. “I just want t’make sure that y’were—”

“Please?” She begged.

“Love, she’s—”

“Please, please, Harry. Please,” she sobbed. “We can go right—” She started to pick at the tape over the IV and wires in her arm and hand.

“Hey,” Harry quickly grabbed her antsy hands. He looked her in the eyes and cupped the side of her face. “Love,” he whispered trying to calm her.

“Please,” she sniveled.

God. She would burn the whole city down. Harry was putty to her begging. He pulled his phone out and FaceTimed his mother. “Hey Mum, can we see Miss Cecelia?” He asked in greeting. At the same time, he squeezed her hand encouragingly.

“Look Cece, it’s Dada,” Anne kissed the top of her head. Harry felt relief himself, knowing she was okay and continued to be safe in Anne’s arms. There was a police detail outside his mother’s house, and one would remain at his own as well for the time being.

“Hi Ce,” he cooed. “Do y’wanna see Miss Honey?” He asked.

She wiped her eyes with the hand still attached to wires. Harry handed her the phone. It seemed her wiping was for nothing as she started to sob once more. “Hi sweet girl,” she tried to smile, but her lips quivered with more tears and anguish. “I’m so glad you’re okay, pretty baby,” she looked like she wanted to reach out and pull her through the phone and into her arms.

“Mama!”

Time seemed to freeze again. For a moment, she was certain she really was dead. Because this was heaven. Someone loved her so unconditionally. It wasn’t fair she was only shown on a phone and miles and miles away.

Time came rushing back as she choked on another sob and pushed the phone back to Harry unable to say another word. Harry felt his heart bouncing erratically in his chest as he looked on in complete awe of her. When he finally pulled his gaze from her teary face, he saw Anne had a knowing smile as she waved at Harry, ending the call.

“Please don’t fire me,” she begged. “Please, please, please. I won’t... I’ll sleep in the basement or outside, I don’t care. I just love her so much and she’s... she’s so perfect Harry and I want to make sure she’s okay all the time and if you fire me I won’t—” Harry couldn’t believe how lovely she was.

“Kitten, I have to fire you,” his voice was soft, and he cupped her face and swiped at the tears that fell faster than he could wipe.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I can’t be in love with someone I employ.”

Her tears slowed for the first time in what seemed like hours. She wiped once more, and she swallowed. “What?”

“I’m so in love with you, kitten,” he kissed her forehead. “M’getting you and Cece a security detail and I want you t’move your stuff into m’room. I want you t’do whatever y’want and—”

“Harry, I like working,” she smiled weakly but that sneaky hope flooded her.

“Then y’can open a day care at the office. A school. I don’t care. Y’can have every penny I earn t’do with whatever y’want. I jus’ want you t’be at home with me and Cece every day. I want you so badly, love. I thought I couldn’t have it all. But I want it all. So m’going to. M’going t’love you with everything I have,” he assured her. She shook her head, a fresh wave a tears flowed down her face. She still seemed scared and immensely dehydrated.

That was a lot to spring on someone but if she was serious, if she would willingly sleep in the yard to be close to Cece, then he thought she could handle what he had to say. His little one called her Mama. He would forever be grateful for the woman that birthed her. Chloe’s framed picture would be at every milestone. The sweet girl had already been taking Cece’s monthly pictures for her first year of life alongside her birth mother’s photo. Chloe wasn’t going to be forgotten, and Cece was a lucky girl to have a second mother who adored her as much as the woman she lost.

But in all that, Harry could see her worry and caution in her eyes. “I love you beyond what you provide for Cecelia,” he whispered as if he could read her mind. “You are the love I didn’t know I needed—didn’t think I deserved. You are everything I could have wanted and more.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he didn’t blame her. He cupped her cheek. “Y’don’t have t’say anything right now. Jus’ get better, yeah? There’s a little girl who needs her Mama,” he smirked.

“Babies,” she hiccuped unable to catch her breath. “Almost always say Dada first,” her smile was apologetic. Harry was going to give her everything she had ever dreamed of, but she did take the first word away from him. Which was a little unfair even in her worried mind.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Well, our baby is going t’be an overachiever.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“You need rest, kitten,” he breathed but he wanted her lips on his more than anything.

“If you don’t kiss me, I’ll cry again.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at her and nosed along her jawline, following it with kisses. “Is that your way of bargaining?”

“Is it working?” She seemed a little breathless. Like when he had her in her bed and made her cry out with his name on her lips. He brushed his mouth across hers. Soft, gentle. It was almost painful. It felt so good and so perfect. Everything he never believed he could have.

“For the record, Harry Styles,” she sighed when Harry rested his forehead against hers. He smiled at her lazily. Like he already knew what she was going to say. Maybe he did. She hoped he did because it seemed pretty obvious to her. “I love you, too.”

*

Harry tended to all the logistics over the next hour. Phone calls, rides, police, and more than she could possibly think of. Niall sat beside her because Harry refused to leave her alone while she was on the mend. He was happy to be there and even happier to hang out with with one of his newest and closest friends.

The wicked grin on his face told her they were jumping into all the details she failed to tell him for the last week. “Were you going to mention you slept with him?”

She blushed. “He told you?”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything specific,” he winked. “I took several imaginative liberties.”

“You,” she shook her head with a smirk, “have a death wish.”

“Did you really push him away after?” He asked.

She swallowed and looked at her hands, her gaze fixated on her fingertip wrapped tight from the wound she got trying to escape. “Niall, he doesn’t need me.”

“But he wants you.”

“I just thought... he already has everything. He has a beautiful baby, a great career, a home, and—”

“He has a home because of you. He doesn’t have someone to share it with.”

“Well, he has you,” she mumbled.

“You’re much prettier than me,” he chuckled rubbing her free hand and kissing the back of it softly. “You scared the life out of him.”

“He’s been through so much, Ni. I know he said he didn’t love Chloe romantically, but he must have, right? Because of Cece?”

“It was a drunk night. He got to know her over nine months, but she wasn’t a settle down with one guy kind of woman. At least not at the time. If there had been more time, who knows what would have happened. But there wasn’t. They made a cute kid, and I know no one regrets their relationship. But it was one and done, darling. Chloe never owned his heart the way you do.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted that. Wanted all his heart. “What if he just loves the idea of me? Or the things I do?”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he screamed at me to drive faster. Sobbed over you while he rubbed water on your lips. He thought he was going to lose you, and he was terrified. If he only loved you because of the things you did, he wouldn’t have been awake for the last two days straight trying to find you. He sent Cece elsewhere. He would have let the police handle a missing nanny case,” he reminded her. “But not the woman that stole his heart.”

She swallowed around the tears that clogged the emotion in her throat. “Have you seen his abs?” She whispered.

Niall snorted. “Gross.”

“I want to lick every single one. And his tattoos.”

“Oh, for the love of god.”

She smiled weakly. Her heart felt pulled in a hundred different directions. Unsure of what needed to be handled first. “Do you know if my family knows?”

“They’re on their way,” Harry said from the doorway.

Her jaw dropped. “What?!”

“They jus’ got to the airport. S’a long flight. But they’ll be here.”

“My brothers, too?” She croaked.

“Is now a good time to tell you that you owe me three more months worth of lunches for not telling me about the sex? And another two for the ab comment?”

She laughed but Harry smiled, rolling his eyes while he watched her. “What ab comment?”

*

“I can walk,” she reminded him. But Harry held her, cradled against him and shook his head.

“You’ll be lucky if I let y’walk in a week.”

“Oh, you’re going to be annoying, aren’t you?” He shrugged and entered the house through the garage.

“Hey love birds,” Niall called. The kitchen smelled delicious. “Not sure if it’ll taste nearly as good as your food, darling.”

Harry ignored his friend and brought her right to the couch. He placed her carefully in the corner of the cushions the way she liked and wrapped her new winter blanket around her. He went to her favorite store the week before and bought one for February. It was so faintly pink it looked almost white. It was decorated with hearts of different shades of reds and pinks along with the word love patterned into the soft material. He hoped she would like it. Because as silly as it was, he wanted to wrap her up with it and ergo wrap her up with love. That was the only thought he had when he saw it. “Here,” he hummed and kissed her forehead as he brought a straw to her lips.

She sucked on the water that even though the doctors had kept her for a few days to ensure she was better, it felt like heaven to have the cold liquid. Harry stroked her cheek like she was going to disappear. “You don’t have to watch me the whole time.”

“You owe me at least a month worth of lunches, darling. The way he screamed at me? Or how he complained about driving you to the hospital? He’s not leaving your side.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry pointedly. “She’s not making you a single lunch,” Harry grumbled.

 “I always make him lunch,” she reminded him. “Add it to your tab, Ni,” she called.

“Not anymore.”

“How did you know where I was?” She asked, still sipping. Niall was eerily quiet, which was a bad sign. Maybe. “Did you two do something illegal?”

Harry shook his head. “Of course not.”

Niall snorted.

She gaped. “Harry Styles.”

“I jus’ looked up the property sales for the men that they identified which is perfectly legal. Niall and I may have gone t’each one while they dealt with finding them because the police assured me, they wouldn’t leave y’alone. So, while they tracked movement and cars and false plates, we tracked locations. Because they assured me that’s not how kidnappers work.”

“You guys interfered with a police investigation? What if they showed up at one of the locations and you were unarmed and alone?” She asked, alarm present in her voice. Nervous for something that didn't even happen.

“We would have called the police at that point,” Niall answered.

“Probably,” Harry muttered. “They didn’t behave like normal kidnappers.”

“Well, I wasn’t their first target,” she shrugged casually. Throwing off all the intentional plans probably through everyone for a loop. Her kidnappers and the police.

Harry looked conflicted briefly and then he winced as if whatever thought he had was too difficult to speak. But she already knew what it was because it was the very reason Harry was tending to her right now: holding her face while she drank precious, delicious, ice water.

“Ni,” she called keeping her eyes on Harry. “Can you grab my bag out of the car?”

“Course,” he headed off the kitchen toward the garage.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” she whispered. “That it was me and not her and you’re grateful for that. I’m so glad it was me,” she tilted his face up because he refused to look at her. “It doesn’t mean you love me any less,” she smiled softly. “I would also think you’re a monster if you didn’t feel that way.”

He shook his head unable to voice how incredible it was for her to know his thoughts. “I would never want t’make that decision,” he murmured. “If they took her...” He shook his head, and an involuntary shiver went through him. She moved her hand to the side of his cheek.

“It’s her. Every time,” she promised. “If it was you or her,” she rubbed her thumb on his lip. “You’re a lot stronger than her,” she reminded him. “Plus, I would have burned the whole city down to find you.”

Harry smiled and kissed her softly before her next sip of water.

“Are you done being gross?” Niall asked.

“Haven’t started,” she called back.

“Disgusting.”

Harry rested his forehead on hers. Right then the front door opened. She stiffened; worry painting her face. Harry squeezed her reassuringly. Gemma was holding the sweet little baby as she entered the room, and she gasped. Tears flooded her eyes so quickly Harry was just glad to see her sweet face melt with adoration for their little love. “Oh,” she sobbed. “Cece,” she whimpered.

Gemma smiled, dropped the diaper bag and quickly made her way over not hesitating a moment or prolonging her suffering any longer. “Let’s go see Mama, girly,” she cooed, passing the baby to her outstretched arms. She kissed her hair and clutched her to her as she cried. Cece didn’t really understand what was happening, but she loved her snuggles and nuzzled against her shirt. Harry cupped the back of her hand on Cece’s head and kissed the crown of Cece’s head before he kissed her temple. He stroked her cheek again of the tears.

“Thanks, Gem,” Harry smirked at his sister.

“Niall,” Gemma gave his shoulder a squeeze and then she leaned over and pressed her lips to the woman’s cheek that would forever be called Mama. “What are we making?”

“Your family, Mum, Eliza, everyone is going t’come over,” he told her softly while she breathed in Cece’s scent. “S’why Niall is cooking.”

She nodded unable to feel the weight of his words because she was overwhelmed with holding the little one. “Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Harry shook his head and gazed at the two girls right in front of him. “M’never going t’forget t’say it, kitten. I swear. M’going t’say it every single day,” he promised. “But, y’never have t’thank me. I owe you m’entire existence,” he whispered. “Thank you,” his lips brushed over hers and then down to Cece’s forehead.

“You don’t have to thank me,” her voice was soft. “You... you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He smiled, his heart so full it felt overwhelming. “You deserve it, kitten.”

*

The terror that ripped through Harry’s throat at the sight of his bed half empty had him springing up and slamming his door against the wall. The police posted outside their house couldn’t have been that bad, could they? They couldn’t be. They would have called or come in if they had to.

Harry pulled the door out of the way to her old room. What he said in the hospital? He was dead serious. She wasn’t living down the hall from him anymore. She could turn her old room into a library or an office, he didn’t care. Harry left the hospital only once while she was there. To ensure the house was safe for her return. During that time, he moved all her clothes, her bathroom stuff, her books, all of her was going in his room where he could be close to her.

Or so he thought.

However, she wasn’t in her old room. Harry frowned, the worry creeping up his stomach and into his chest. Then, an overwhelming sense of relief went through him when he realized his mistake. He went to the next door and the nightlight painted the room and everything in it with the gentle glow. There, on the floor was the sweet girl, facing the crib, breathing at regular intervals.

“Kitten,” he cooed kneeling down behind her and gently shaking her.

She bounced and her eyes flickered to the crib. “What’s wrong, is she okay?”

“She’s fine, m’love,” his heart skipped a beat with how much he loved her. “Y’can’t be sleeping on the floor after the day you’ve had, sweetheart, c’mon.”

There was a brief pause while Harry stared at her. Cece’s little breaths were the only background noise they had. Soft and sweet, perfectly healthy. “I can’t leave her,” she whispered.

Harry’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Of course. That was stupid of him. “Okay, okay,” he kissed the side of her face. He stood, scooped Cece out of the crib kissing her forehead as he did. She got to her knees watching anxiously as Harry held her like she was going to disappear. “C’mon,” he hummed, holding his hand out for the sleepy girl. She stood, then paused, blinking rapidly. “Are y’okay?” He asked, putting an arm around her waist immediately and shifting Cece to his other arm.

She nodded. “A little dizzy.”

Harry squeezed around her hips. He guided them back to their bedroom. “Here we go,” he placed Cece on the bed in the middle then slowly sat down the newest love of his life on the edge of the bed. “Are y’okay, kitten?” He repeated.

She nodded. “Just dizzy.”

“Do y’need medical attention?”

She shook her head. “Just got up too fast, I think.”

He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Wish y’woke me up. Scared me,” he tugged her toward the pillows beside Cece. Harry curled himself around her, her bum pressed close to his pelvic bone, their thighs and knees spooned together. She shifted a bunch, moving pillows and blankets to keep Cece in place while she slept soundly.

Harry draped an arm around her body and tugged her toward him even though there was no more room to move her back into his embrace. “I love you,” he murmured.

She brought his hand to her mouth, and she kissed his knuckles. “I love you.”

“Cece okay?” He wondered, hoping her answer would reassure her own worry.

“Yes,” she nodded. Harry kissed the back of her head and felt himself warm with her body so close. He could see the rise and fall of Cece breathing on the bed in the light from the moon streaming through the window.

“You’re okay?” He asked his voice quiet and soft.

She nodded. “I’m perfect,” she whispered.

He smiled. Sleepy, happy, and completely thrilled that he could have everything he ever dreamed of having right in his bed. “God, sweetheart. I couldn’t agree more.”

--

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The Call of the Void | Chapter 5

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter summary: A perfectly normal trip to Hogsmeade. Maybe. Definitely not. 4.5k words. Chapter warnings: Awkward Sebastian POV rambling, a lot of blushing, cringy one-liners and oh yeah, a troll. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

V: H O G S M E A D E

The following afternoon, Sebastian waits in the Bell Tower as instructed, dressed appropriately with a full belly and a (mostly) rested mind. He can’t help but pace, counting the steps he takes along the marble from one side of the hall to the other, desperately trying to quiet the anxious thoughts bouncing around in his head. 

Despite Professor Weasley’s assurance that Sloane knows about the trip to Hogsmeade, the girl didn’t spare Sebastian one glance that morning in Potions, even when his cauldron accidentally bubbled over and Garreth teased him about being worse than the first years. Not that he can fault her avoidance, considering the outcome of their duel. He’s been replaying what happened in Hecat’s classroom over and over, switching between guilt and annoyance for feeling guilty. But he can’t get Sloane’s stormcloud eyes out of his head, leaving him more perplexed and frustrated than ever. There is no reason for him to be so hung up on someone he barely knows, yet the worrying persists.

“Erm…hello.”

What time is it? Sebastian restlessly taps his fingers against his thigh, wondering what he’ll tell Professor Weasley if Sloane doesn’t show up. Knowing his luck, the Headmistress will blame him and add several more days to his already robust detention schedule. How embarrassing is it to be stood up by the new girl?

“Sebastian Sallow?”

He snaps his head up and spins around to see Sloane standing in front of him with the same distressed expression she’s held since the sorting ceremony. He realizes this is the first time he’s heard her speak, her voice a quiet timbre with just the slightest hint of an accent he can’t quite place. He hides his surprise behind a lopsided grin.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

The crease between Sloane’s eyebrows deepens as she offers no response. Sebastian clears his throat and briefly considers giving up now before he makes an ass of himself again. He’s always appreciated a good challenge, but casting a corporeal Patronus might be easier than breaking through her emotional walls. The silence stretches on as he takes in her appearance, smirking when he notices they are wearing the same dark grey jumper.

“I already have a twin, you know,” he attempts humor again, gesturing to her outfit.

Sloane’s eyes widen and she looks down, nervously plucking at the hem. “Should I change?”

“What?” Sebastian’s concern for the poor girl increases—does she not understand sarcasm? “No, no,” he assures with a strained laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Professor Weasley told me you need supplies, including a new wand,” he keeps talking before the tension turns awkward—if it hasn’t already. “Will this really be your first foray into Hogsmeade?”

“Yes,” she answers, one more word than he expected.

“Well, I shall endeavor to be the best of guides, then,” he says, jovially swinging his arm. Sebastian doesn’t mean to sound so facetious, but he’s never struggled this badly with talking to another person. “Shall we?”

Outside, he continues to watch Sloane in his peripheral, the two silent as they make their way across the castle grounds. What can he say to bring her out of her shell? He briefly considers saying nothing the entire trip to Hogsmeade, but even Sebastian knows it’s impossible for him to stay quiet for long. Kind—that’s what Professor Weasley expects, and so that is what he will strive to be.  

It’s surprisingly busy for the middle of a school day, her gaze turning upward as several students on brooms zip by, headed for the pitch. Even with Headmaster Black’s cancelation, many still wish to practice and play, even if it’s just a friendly skirmish.

“Do you like Quidditch?” he asks before he can remember she is muggleborn and likely has no idea what Quidditch is. On cue, Sloane’s eyebrows crease together in confusion. “Right. Sorry. Well, I won’t bore you with an explanation now, or we’ll never make it to Hogsmeade. Are you at least enjoying learning how to fly?”

Sloane’s cheeks flush with color as she quickly shakes her head. “No.”

“No?” Sebastian repeats, surprised by her quick and firm objection. He isn’t sure he knows any witch or wizard that doesn’t enjoy flying. It’s arguably one of the best parts of having magic. “You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?”

He glances to see her face an even brighter shade of pink. The temptation to tease has him biting the inside of his cheek. Sebastian tugs at his collar and then rolls up his sleeves, cursing Ominis for encouraging (demanding) he wear something presentable when it’s unseasonably warm. As they continue through the north exit, he tries a different approach.

“We share quite a lot of classes, don’t we?” he muses, seven to be exact. On Thursdays, they are practically attached at the hip from Transfiguration in the morning, to Arithmancy and Herbology in the afternoon.

Sloane slowly nods. “Yes.”

“Did you finish the numerology assignment?”

“Yes.”

“What about the essay for Professor Garlick?”

“Yes,” she says again and he can’t stop himself.

“Do you know more than thirteen words?”

Sloane falters, and Sebastian is quick to backpedal. “Sorry, that—” he sighs, wishing he could swallow his own tongue. “That came out wrong. What I mean is…you’re awfully shy, aren’t you?”

“Not by choice,” she replies, solemnly.

It’s rare for Sebastian to be at a loss for words, once again frustrated by how difficult basic conversation with Sloane is proving to be. “Sorry.”

She acknowledges his apology with a wry smile, the silence returning as they walk along the cobblestone. He flicks his eyes back and forth between her and the path until she catches him looking. To his surprise, she asks him a question.

“Do you know why Professor Weasley asked you to accompany me?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer right away, too distracted by the Irish lilt he finally picks up on. It’s barely there, recognizable only when she has more to say—he’ll have to hear it again to be sure. He shrugs, deciding to skirt around the truth. “Likely to keep me out of detention.”

“Oh?”

“Not the most favorable record I keep,” he explains. “It’s never anything nefarious, not really. But I’ve been known to break curfew, and… occasionally sneak into the Restricted Section, or the kitchens.”

“The kitchens?”

“Of course!” Sebastian laughs. “It’s always a smart idea to keep a snack in your pocket, for emergencies.” He pulls a handkerchief-wrapped cookie from his pocket, picking off a piece of lint before breaking it in half. “Want some?”

Sloane hesitates, as if he’s handing her poison, but eventually takes the offering. “Thank you.”

“Have you explored the castle since your arrival?” he asks next, wiping his face of any crumbs as he finishes his half of the cookie.

“Not much,” she answers before elaborating. “I worry about getting lost.”

“I’ve been here five years and I’m still getting turned around by the moving staircases,” he chuckles. “There’s lots of mysteries to discover, if you’ve the time.”

“Like what?”  

Sebastian smirks. “Can’t go around telling you all my secrets, now can I?”

The way she blushes and looks away is endearing—he’s never known anyone so easily flustered. Well, except for Ominis, who is usually annoyed by Sebastian’s antics. At least Sloane isn’t frowning anymore. He studies her profile while she nibbles on her share of the cookie, grey eyes focused on the thick line of trees to their left.

“The Forbidden Forest,” he explains. “Out of bounds to all students.”

Sloane takes a moment to observe the cluster of warning signs placed by the Headmaster and Ministry. “I can see why,” she replies. “What are…Acromantula?”

“Giant spiders.”

“Giant what?”

“Spiders,” Sebastian repeats.

She shudders. “There’s a forest of giant spiders so close to the school?”

“Not only Acromantula,” he says, matter-of-fact. “There are ashwinders, dubogs, thornbacks, trolls, werewolves, a Centaur colony, blood-sucking bugbears, bowtruckles, manticores…not to mention all the poachers…oh, and at least one giant, so I hear—”

He stops when he notices Sloane’s horrified expression. “It’s not all bad…” he tries to reassure. “I’ve yet to spot one, but there are unicorns in the forest, too.”

“You’ve been inside the forest?” she questions, alarmed.

“It’s an excellent location to test one’s defensive abilities,” he shrugs. “I’ve always preferred practicality. Why teach us defensive magic if we aren’t allowed to use it?”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

Sebastian does a double take, surprised by her comment. She isn’t vilifying his actions, but there’s something in her tone that has his gut churning almost guility.

You sound like Ominis, is what he almost says. “Perhaps.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as they walk on, Hogsmeade now visible beyond the rolling hills and ruins. It isn’t until a carriage passes by that he speaks up again.

“Thestrals,” he murmurs.

“You can see them?” Sloane asks.

“Unfortunately. I assume Professor Fig told you why?”

When she nods, he’s curious but sympathetic. Some forget the price paid to witness such a creature, but he knows all too well the pain associated with the gift. Perhaps this is why he recognizes the melancholy in her—it is the same sadness he fights every day to suppress.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can offer.

“So am I.”

Wanting nothing more than to chase the somber mood away before it can truly settle in, Sebastian forces a smile. “We’ll need to get you a butterbeer after we’re finished with your errands. Do you like sweets?” Sloane nods again and this time he doesn’t have to fake his reaction. “Good.”

Hogsmeade is bustling with activity, but the chaos is comforting to Sebastian as he takes in the familiar sights and sounds. Sloane looks on in wonder, her wide eyes darting from one building to the next. He softly laughs, wondering if he looked equally awestruck when he first visited the village.

“Careful,” he calls out, grabbing her by the elbow to pull her out of the oncoming path of a few rowdy children. “I’ll be facing a fate worse than detention if you end up trampled.”

Sloane is close enough that he finds himself silently counting the freckles dotting her nose until she pulls away with a renewed blush. His amusement lingers as he gestures toward the entrance to Tomes & Scrolls.

“I’ll be right with you!” Mr. Brown, the proprietor, calls from the back room. Sebastian leisurely browses while Sloane stands nearby, her hands neatly folded as if she’s afraid to touch anything.

“Have you read these?” he asks, fingers tracing over the book spines in the small collection of muggle works. Sloane takes a cautious step closer, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Jane Austen,” she quietly admits, and for the first time, there is a tiny, genuine smile on her lips. The sight momentarily distracts Sebastian, but he eventually pulls one of the books from the shelf—Mansfield Park. Sloane’s smile brightens. “My favorite.”

He smirks, filing the bit of information away with everything else he’s learned about her today. Happiness suits her, makes her golden.

“Ahem!” Mr. Brown interrupts the moment, and Sebastian glances over to see the man glaring in his direction. “I hope you plan on paying for that, Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian sheepishly digs through his pockets for some coin as he approaches the counter. He hands over a few Knuts, but when Mr. Brown motions for more, he places the last Sickle he has into the man’s hand. 

“Thank you,” he chirps, grinning as he turns his attention to Sloane. “You must be the new fifth year. Professor Weasley already sent an owl with the list of books and spellcraft you need.”

Mr. Brown swishes his wand, summoning several books and scrolls from the shelves into a neat pile for her to take. “This should be everything you need for a successful school year, plus a few extra readings to assist with filling in the gaps in your education.”

Sloane inspects the stack with some apprehension, and Sebastian is about to offer some assistance when she pulls out her wand, concentrating as she carefully casts Evanesco, disappearing the supplies away.

She sighs, visibly relieved by the simple achievement. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Mr. Brown cheerfully replies, his demeanor hardening ever so slightly as he looks at Sebastian again. “Mr. Sallow.”         

Outside, he offers Sloane some encouragement as she continues to twist the wand in her palm. “Good work casting Evanesco, much easier than lugging a pile of books around.”

“It’s the first spell Professor Fig taught me,” she says, nervously. “Though, I’m not always successful in bringing things back.”

“It’ll be easier once you have your own wand,” he suggests, leading the way to their next stop. “Ollivanders will have what you need.”

She hesitates by the door, looking back at him as if to question why he isn’t joining her. “Choosing a wand—rather, a wanding choosing you—is best done in private. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction,” he explains with a coy wink. “In the meantime, I can visit Pippins and the Magic Neep for you, and we can rendevous in the town square. How does that sound?”

“Alright,” Sloane softly agrees before disappearing into the shop.

At first, Mr. Pippins doesn’t believe Sebastian when he says he’s there to collect Sloane’s supplies, only relenting after taking an exuberantly long time to review his ledger for Professor Weasley’s notice. Mr. Teasdale is far more trusting, adding in a few extra dittany seeds for good measure. By the time he makes his way to the town square, Sloane is already there, patiently standing near the large oak tree, head tilted up as she tracks the flight of owls departing the post office. He’s pleased to see her so relaxed, flashing a grin when she notices his arrival.

“So? How’d it go?” he greets. She reveals her new wand, and Sebastian can immediately sense something in her aura has shifted. He inspects the wand—the wood is light in color and looks as if it was plucked from a forest floor. “English Oak?”

“Mr. Ollivander said it has a unicorn hair core and that it was very fitting for a Hufflepuff,” she shrugs a little. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“He’s right,” Sebastian says. “You have a loyal wand. It means another witch or wizard would struggle to use it. You’ll be a force to be reckoned with in no time.”

Sloane smiles and he’s about to suggest they make their way to The Three Broomsticks when a loud rumbling echoes in the distance. Sebastian quickly brandishes his wand, his eyes going wide when a troll suddenly leaps into the town square. He instinctively pulls Sloane from the troll’s path of destruction, adrenaline heating the blood rushing through his veins. A Ministry official and a few shopkeepers attack the troll, redirecting the beast’s attention so it can be lured away from the village. He barely has enough time to catch Sloane’s panicked expression when there’s another crash as a second troll appears from the rubble of a destroyed building.

Sebastian is casting spells before he can fully process the reality of what is happening. A troll in Hogsmeade? It is no ordinary troll, that much he can tell by its glowing red eyes and armor. The beast lunges forward and Sebastian is certain he’s about to have his brain clubbed out of his skull when he sees the faint shimmer of a protective shield. He snaps his gaze to Sloane, the power radiating off of her unrecognizable, almost frightening. She’d managed a wordless shield charm yesterday as well, but this one was stronger. There’s no time for him to ask questions, however, as the troll swings at them again, undeterred.

“Bombarda!” he shouts, diving out of the way as the troll attempts to knock him to the ground.

Sebastian doesn’t like to admit that he’s scared, but this isn’t the kind of fight he’s used to. It’s one thing to duel, or pluck off ankle-biter spiders with sparks, but a troll is a completely different wheelhouse. He shoots off several more firey spells until there’s a sudden chill that sends a shiver down his spine. It’s similar to the sensation he felt the day before when Sloane’s magic slipped past his defenses and seized his heart. He looks over just in time to witness her cast, dark blue tendrils wrapping around the troll’s head before she topples it over with the flick of her wrist. She lifts her arm in a wide arc, effortlessly suspending the hideous creature in midair, its body crashing into the cobblestone a few seconds later.

When the troll ceases to move, Sebastian stares at Sloane, flabbergasted by what he’s just witnessed. Who the hell is this girl? A muggleborn farmgirl who can defeat a troll like a seasoned auror, but not him in a practice duel? He hurries over to where she’s standing in a haze, her body swaying as she struggles to catch her breath. The Ministry official—Officer Singer—returns as well, equally bewildered by the sight of the unconscious troll. 

“Sloane?” He’s cautious, momentarily worried she might fling him into the afterlife next. “Are you alright?” He touches her arm but immediately recoils with a hiss—she’s hot to the touch, whatever magic she possesses burning his palm. Sebastian flexes his hand and shakes off the pain. “How—how in Merlin’s name did you do that?”

“I—” Sloane’s eyes are wide and wild, shaking her head as she stares at her hands. Was she not in control of herself just now? “I don’t know.”

Officer Singer’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but she’s quickly distracted by the distressed villagers to probe any further. Sebastian takes the opportunity to make a swift exit, ignoring the searing heat that continues to radiate off of Sloane as he grasps her arm.

“Let’s go.”

His heart is still racing as they leave the town square, mind swirling with a never-ending list of questions. Sloane’s stoicism is the only thing that prevents him from blurting them out. He aimlessly leads her through the village, many of the inhabitants already flocking to see what the ruckus was all about. He’s wondering how Professor Weasley will find a way to hold him responsible for putting the new girl in danger when Sloane stops mid-stride.

“What is it?”

Sebastian follows her line of sight to where a familiar man is slipping into a nearby alley. What is Victor Rookwood doing in Hogsmeade? It’s no secret that he is the leader of the dark wizard gangs terrorizing the Highlands, and yet, he’s seemingly protected from prosecution by blood status and the galleons he uses to line Ministry officials’ pockets. Sebastian’s curiosity gets the better of him, though he’s relieved when Sloane moves with him to eavesdrop. He huddles close—she’s still warm—and peers over her shoulder.

Rookwood isn’t alone. His second in command, Theophilus Harlow, stands beside another recognizable figure. The leader of the goblin rebellion.  

“Ranrock,” Sebastian growls, balling his hands into fists to temper the flare of anger. 

The conversation isn’t audible, but it doesn’t take a genius to deduce their presence is related to the troll attack, and that something worse is imminent. Ranrock paces as he speaks, and when his head snaps up to where Sebastian and Sloane are standing, she sucks in a sharp breath and ducks out of view. He refrains from commenting on the vice grip of her hand on his forearm as they rush away from the scene. At the end of the street, they glance back to see Rookwood and Harlow exiting the alley, shouting at them to stop.

“This way,” Sebastian directs, silently praying that the men aren’t stupid enough to attack two students in broad daylight, in Hogsmeade. They hastily take refuge inside The Three Broomsticks, where Sirona Ryan greets them with a curious look, the two taking a seat at the end of the counter.

“Sallow? I trust you’ve been staying out of trouble?” she questions, eyebrow raised. “What’s this I hear about a troll attacking the town square?”

“News travels fast, I see,” Sebastian mumbles, shaking his head as if to dismiss the conversation before it can start. Best not to raise suspicions—he doesn’t think Sloane will appreciate the attention, even if she just single-handedly took down a troll. “I’ve simply been escorting my new friend here on her first trip to Hogsmeade.”

“I was wondering why I haven’t seen your face before,” Sirona muses, looking at Sloane. She snaps her head up when she realizes she’s being spoken to. 

“It’s…my first time here,” she says, and Sebastian frowns at the return of her meek, quiet voice. In the span of a few hours, he’s managed to see her blossom and wilt, experience her warmth, only to see it snuffed out.

Sirona is keen enough not to press for more details. “Well then, welcome!” she grins, flashing Sebastian a skeptical glance as she summons two tankards with the swish of her wand. “Butterbeers on me.”

“Thank you,” Sloane politely replies.

“My pleasure,” Sirona nods, keeping a careful watch on the two as they sip their drinks. “Are you sure—”

Whatever question Sirona is about to ask is interrupted as the doors to the pub slam open, Rookwood and Harlow striding in with determination. She rounds the counter to halt their intrusion, and Sebastian can’t help but notice the way Sloane’s grip tightens around her tankard of butterbeer. 

“You two look lost,” Sirona quips. “Would you like directions to the Hog’s Head?”

Rookwood snarls, unamused by her sarcasm. Still, he gestures for Harlow to hold back as the other man reaches for his wand. “No need, Theophilus,” he sneers, moving his hand to point at Sloane instead. “I’m sure the girl will come with us, quietly.”

Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to stand when Sloane does, hiding his alarm—she doesn’t mean to surrender, does she? And what does Rookwood want with Sloane in the first place? Her magic? It’s the only reasonable answer he can come up with at the moment, but it does little to calm his nerves.

When Rookwood dares to advance, Sirona steps to block him, wand in hand. Sebastian does the same, several other patrons standing with their wands at the ready. He senses the spark of Sloane’s magic come to life, wondering if anyone else can feel it too.

The standoff lasts long enough for Rookwood to realize he’s outnumbered. They are slow to depart, his glare lingering on Sloane until Sirona shoves the door shut in their faces. It’s only then that Sloane slumps, eyes closed as she releases a shaky breath.

“I think it’s best you two head back to the castle,” Sirona suggests, more concerned than ever. “Before Rookwood and Harlow decide to come back with reinforcements.”

Sebastian doesn’t protest but patiently waits until Sloane silently signals that she’s ready to leave. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, he is at a loss for words. Anything he could say, any question he thinks to ask just doesn’t seem appropriate, not now, not when Sloane is so visibly shaken by the day’s events.

“Sloane?” It takes a moment for her to glance his way, a crease in her brow he wants to make disappear. Her eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly the trip to Hogsmeade I anticipated.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she says with a slight shake of her head.

“It isn’t yours, either.”

She doesn’t look convinced and he has to wonder all over again what she isn’t telling him. Not that he has the right to know, not when they’ve barely known each other for more than a few days if not hours. Her eyes flick back to the ground as they walk the rest of the way back to Hogwarts in silence.

They arrive at the Great Hall in time for dinner, and it looks like Sloane is finally about to say something when Poppy Sweeting comes running up, grasping her friend by the shoulders.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright!” she cries out in relief. “Is it true there was a troll attack in Hogsmeade? We were all so worried about you!”

Poppy spares Sebastian a glance that is too quick to discern as either friendly or menacing before the pint-sized girl drags Sloane away to the safety of the Hufflepuff table. He contemplates calling it an early night when his stomach rudely reminds him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

“You look like shite, Sallow,” Imelda greets as Sebastian plops down next to her at the Slytherin table. She scoots to create more distance.

Across from him, Ominis pauses mid-sip of his soup to agree. “You smell it, too. Did you go to Hogsmeade or the Bog?”

“Fuck off,” Sebastian grumbles, rolling his eyes as he hungrily bites into a buttered roll. He can worry about bathing later.

“What happened to your hand?” Imelda asks, unbothered by his foul language.

Sebastian looks at his palm, having almost forgotten the burn of Sloane’s magic. His skin his red and slightly blistered as if he held it over an open flame. “Nothing a little trip to the infirmary can’t fix.”

Ominis scoffs, and Sebastian prepares himself for the inevitable lecture. He loves his friend like a brother, but he’s gotten fairly good at tuning him out and instead glances over Ominis’ shoulder to where Sloane is sitting with her housemates, Poppy and Lenora excitedly yapping as she listens on. He can’t help but feel concerned, dissatisfied with how their first outing ended. Aside from the danger, he rather enjoyed his time with her but doubts Sloane would be willing to do so again. Besides, he has more important things to worry about than a mysterious girl with mysterious powers and a cute—

“Are you even listening to me?” Ominis snaps, breaking Sebastian from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Ominis hesitates, his expression slowly shifting from annoyance to something akin to amused curiosity.

“What is it?” Sebastian asks, unsure if he would be alarmed by his friend’s demeanor.

Ominis shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and is about to return to his mean when he dares to look across the hall again. This time, Sloane’s gaze meets his and he chances a small smile.

She smiles back.

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The Call of the Void | Chapter 4

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Sebastian finally notices the new fifth-year. This chapter features art by @puridewart 💛 3.5k words Chapter warnings: Mild Leander-Slander, but that's mostly because this is a Sebastian POV chapter. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

IV: D u e l

Sebastian wakes up on Tuesday in a bad mood.

Only a week into the new school year and he’s already regretting the choice to overload his class schedule with extracurriculars, bringing the total to fourteen. Combined with his late-night research in the restricted section on possible cures for Anne, Sebastian is lucky if he sleeps for more than a few hours if he sleeps at all.

The previous evening was supposed to be spent in the library, but instead, he stays up writing forty inches on ancient runes, cursing under his breath at the absurdity of a professor assigning such a task the first week of school. He falls asleep before he can finish, slumped over his dormitory desk, quill in hand. When Ominis wakes him up the following morning, Sebastian’s neck is stiff, fingers stained with ink, and stomach rumbling. The clock in their shared room shows breakfast isn’t possible, not if he wants to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he grumbles, shedding the clothes he fell asleep in for a clean set as he weighs the pros and cons of skipping class in favor of leftover toast.

“I did,” Ominis counters, flicking his wand to remove the wrinkles from Sebastian’s uniform. “You told me to quote, eat runes and die.” He turns to leave. “At least, that is what I think you said—your sleep-deprived Gaelic needs some work.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, securing the knot of his Slytherin-green tie as he follows after Ominis, the two walking in amiable silence from the dungeons to the western tower. His eyes are still heavy as he thinks about the day ahead, thankful there are only two classes to suffer through, with the rest of the afternoon and evening to do as he pleases. While sleep is preferable—and desperately needed—he still has several other assignments to work on, readings to complete, and projects to get a head-start on. Not to mention wanting to follow up on a promising lead for Anne, discovered while researching abnormal curses. There simply isn’t enough time in the day. 

He sighs, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

“Merlin’s sagging arse, Sallow. You look terrible.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw in annoyance as Leander greets him outside the D.A.D.A. classroom. “Prewett.”

The Gryffindor certainly became bolder over the summer, likely due to the growth spurt that finally brought him to the same height as the other fifth-year boys. Sebastian doesn’t want to think Leander’s newfound confidence has anything to do with Miss Morrison—how the gangly redhead managed to woo her is anyone’s guess.

The statues framing the doorway blink as the two exchange similar scowls, only moving when Ominis sighs in the threatening way only he can achieve. Leander doesn’t let up, however, taking advantage of the fact Professor Hecat hasn’t arrived yet.

“Rough night?” he prods. “We missed you at Crossed Wands. Does that mean you’re too busy to defend your title?”

“Like hell!” Sebastian exclaims, catching the way Leander’s eyes widen in alarm, but it’s too late for Prewett to back down now. The reminder of what else he’s missing out on only adds to his stress. Sebastian rolls up his sleeves and brandishes his wand. “No time like the present.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis warns. “No.”

Sebastian laughs, “yes.”

Leander falters, stumbling as he barely deflects Sebastian’s first cast. “No fair, Sallow!” he complains, the two moving into taunting stances on opposite sides of the classroom. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You should know by now that I don’t play fair,” Sebastian counters with a sarcastic chuckle. “Stupify!”

The impromptu duel excites the rest of the class as they arrive, quickly gathering to watch as he and Leander exchange a flurry of spells. It’s frustrating how good Prewett is—he wouldn’t be a member of Crossed Wands otherwise—but Sebastian knows he is better—the best.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunts after blocking the redhead’s attempt to disarm. “Bombarda!”

Leander’s last-second shield charm doesn’t save him from the aftershock of the small explosion, propelling him backward into a large stack of books. His fellow Gryffindor, Cressida Blume, runs to help while the others cheer for Sebastian’s victory. He cockily grins until Professor Hecat appears in the doorway of her office that oversees the classroom. She sighs, shaking her head in disapproval before slowly descending the stairs.

“Perhaps I should be grateful you avoided the Hebridean this time.” Her ire shifts to Leander, who fails at shrugging off Cressida’s fussing. “I see a review in deflection is needed. Let’s begin with the known variations of Protego.”

There are a few mumbles and groans as the professor gestures for the class to cease their gawking. Sebastian slinks back to his assigned seat, noticing briefly that his deskmate is already there, focused and quiet as ever. Sloane—the new fifth-year. He waits to see if she will say anything as he settles onto the bench, but like every day since her arrival, she remains silent.

Odd.

It isn’t like he’s said anything to her either—he hasn’t had a reason to and isn’t one for forcing conversation, especially on an unwilling participant. What little he knows of the new girl is based on unreliable hearsay and his scant observations of her behavior in the last week. At least she seems a little less terrified than before, undoubtedly due to being rescued by Poppy Sweeting. He’d seen her small triumph at Summoner’s Court, but the use of Accio is hardly impressive. The conclusion Sebastian arrives at is that Sloane is not worth his time.

Under different circumstances, he might find it in himself to be cordial, or even friendly, but those carefree days are in the past. Of course, there is a small flicker of curiosity that anything new brings, but he quickly extinguishes the thought, steeling his mind. There is no time—Anne is his focus, and everything else is a temporary distraction.

He switches his attention back to Professor Hecat, even if today’s lesson is redundant, information he taught himself long before it was required. Instead of taking notes, or at least pretending to read along in the textbook, he fiddles with his wand, twirling it between the fingers on his left hand. He starts to imagine all the other things he could be doing right now, like finishing his Ancient Runes assignment or charming a Prefect to look the other way as he digs through Professor Sharp’s supply room, or—his stomach growls—eating breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Sloane glancing at him, her face contorted in concern. She parts her lips to speak, closes her mouth, and then repeats the action a few times, looking very much like a fish. He might have thought her mute if he hadn’t seen her talking with Poppy in class the day before. Her insufferable shyness reminds him of the first-years who are too nervous to ask him for the common-room password when they’ve forgotten. Mildly perturbed, Sebastian raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at her directly.

“Can I help you?”

Sloane snaps her gaze back to her notes, scribbling her quill against the parchment, and he leans over slightly to see nonsensical squiggles rather than actual words. Realizing his sudden proximity, she flinches and he immediately pulls away, more perplexed by her demeanor than ever. What he should do is continue to ignore the strange newcomer, but between Hecat’s droning and the girl’s flustered state, he finds the latter more compelling. He continues to look at her, studying her profile and smirking when a flush of pink tints her cheeks.

Cute.

And she is cute, objectively speaking. Sebastian hasn’t given his preferences much thought before, but he isn’t blind. The sunlight spilling in from the windows illuminates Sloane’s ashen-blonde hair—she’s finally cut off the damaged ends, leaving behind a short and wavy crop. The yellow of her jacket makes her look golden, envying Ominis with how tidy her uniform is. She’s pale in a way that accentuates her blush and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. There’s a faint scar on the bridge of her nose, and he wonders if the cause is magical or mundane.

Her eyes, however, aren’t as doe-like and innocent as he expects; rather, they are a stormy shade of grey with an unsettling depth. A well of sadness, one Sebastian has seen before in his own reflection. Sloane is a kindred spirit, or at least that’s what intuition tells him. His curiosity burns anew. 

He should say something.

Maybe.

Professor Hecat speaks first, preventing further rumination. “Since you were all so keen on using this space as a dueling hall, we will now practice these defenses with each other.”

Her announcement excites the class all over again, everyone moving to stand on either side of the room as Hecat moves their desks aside and raises the long dueling table. Cressida and Sirius Black are the first to demonstrate what they’ve learned, and it takes all but a few exchanges for Miss Blume to knock the Headmaster’s son onto his back. He sneers, flicking dust off his tailored jacket as Cressida flourishes under the attention and praise from her classmates.

Sebastian watches the matches intently, making a mental note to mention the outcomes to Lucan Brattleby at the next Crossed Wands meeting. Everett Clopton and Isaac Cooper are next, showcasing how they ought to stick to flying rather than spellcraft. They are shooed from the table when it becomes apparent they’d rather showboat than have a proper duel. Ominis and Adelaide Oakes follow, and their drastically different dueling styles cause Professor Hecat to declare a draw after five minutes. Thereafter, Aurthur Plummy loses to Grace, and Leander suffers his second public humiliation of the day when Imelda sends him toppling from the table and into the same pile of books as before.

While Cressida and Hecat check to see if Prewett is conscious, Sebastian sees Sloane in his peripheral, fidgeting with her wand. It dawns on him that they are the last pair to participate. She holds the same worried expression that she always does, her eyes wide with panic as they flick back and forth between him and the purple-draped table.

“Have you ever dueled before?” he asks.

Sloane hesitates before shaking her head.

“Well then,” Sebastian smirks as Hecat instructs them to take their places. Maybe the new girl will surprise him. “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

It isn’t until Sebastian turns around in his spot to face his opponent that his bravado fades at the sight of Sloane, her demeanor reminiscent of her arrival to the opening feast. Nervousness is one thing, but Merlin, she looks miserable and afraid, her petite stature doing nothing to help the situation. 

Pride won’t allow him to go easy on her—she has to learn somehow, right? Still, he hesitates, even as Professor Hecat allows them to begin. Sloane glances down at her hands before gripping her wand a little tighter, raising her arm defensively. Knowing she is unlikely to cast first, Sebastian flicks his wrist, almost thankful when she blocks the blast of magic at the last possible moment.

She stumbles backward, rebounding when she more easily deflects his second attack. Sebastian relaxes, wondering if the new fifth-year really is the prodigy rumors claim her to be and is hiding her talents behind a meek facade.

He tests this theory, casting with more conviction. “Stupify!”

Her shield charm appears without an incantation, and he’s stunned long enough that her basic cast slips past his Protego. Sebastian staggers, widening his stance to avoid falling over. He’s been hit by all sorts of spells in his lifetime, but whatever power Sloane possesses feels different—unnerving and pleasant at the same time.

The strange sensation doesn’t stop him from returning fire, the class collectively gasping as she fails to protect herself in time. Sloane takes the full brunt of his magic, yelping as she’s sent flying off the end of the table. Even though he’s just won the dual, victory feels hollow. Sebastian may have the reputation as Hogwarts’ best duelist, but he won’t be known as a bully.   

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Sebastian rushes down the length of the table, hopping off the edge in time to see Sloane slowly pushing herself off the ground, clearly dazed by the outcome. She rubs the back of her head, wincing in pain. Guilt churns his stomach and he reaches out, offering his hand.

“Here,” he murmurs, hoping he looks as non-threatening as possible.

Sloane stares up at him with glossy, storm-cloud eyes and the sight makes his chest weigh heavy with shame. He can’t tell if her unshed tears are from embarrassment or a bruised skull. She shakily reaches up and Sebastian can’t blame her hesitation, grasping her hand to hoist her upright. As soon as she is standing, her gaze darts away, and before he can ask if she’s alright he is being pushed away by another flash of yellow as Adelaide arrives to help.

“That is enough for today,” Professor Hecat announces, dismissing the class with a wave of her hand. “Please continue to review and practice your defensive spells without hurting each other.”

Sebastian frowns and looks down at his right hand, flexing his fingers as they tingle. He lingers, eavesdropping as Hecat offers some encouragement to Sloane before suggesting that Adelaide take her to the hospital wing for a quick exam.

“You as well, Mr. Prewett,” she says, just before the Gryffindor wobbles out of the classroom. He groans, rubbing his temple as Cressida happily offers to escort him. Just as Sebastian moves to leave as well, Professor Hecat clears her throat. “Mr. Sallow.”

He stops and slowly turns, attempting to charm the professor with a cheeky smile. She isn’t impressed, hands on her hips as she shakes her head. Perhaps one day, he won’t be such a disappointment.

“Yes, Professor?” he inquires, feigning innocence. Hecat rolls her eyes, unimpressed.

“I have a request for you,” she starts, clasping her hands. “It appears our newest student could use some help with her studies. Are you familiar with Miss Sloane outside of class?”

Sebastian wonders if Hecat is making the assumption based on his chivalrous behavior. He lifts a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Not really,” he answers, even though the real answer is not at all.

“No matter,” she dismisses his response. “Perhaps you’d be willing to invite her to that little dueling club you think is a secret from the staff.”

“What?” he says, in disbelief, shaking his. “You have to actually be good at dueling to join Crossed Wands.”

“So that is what you call it,” Professor Hecat’s sly smile makes Sebastian nervous. “But that is exactly my point, Mr. Sallow. Miss Sloane needs to catch up with the rest of her peers, and what better way to accomplish that than to be tutored by the best?”

Sebastian should be flattered by the compliment, but he remains reluctant to agree. “Might I think about it?” he asks, unsure if even he has the time to attend Brattleby’s club, let alone take Sloane under his wing. Maybe he can set her up with Onai—she’s talented enough, and the two are more likely to get along.

“So,” he drags the word out in an attempt to change the subject, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Am I—”

“Still in trouble?” Professor Hecat finishes, and he swears she looks amused by the situation. “Yes.”

“But—”

“I warned you about using unsanctioned spells in my classroom, Mr. Sallow,” she reminds and he sighs, knowing she is right. “Not to worry, as soon as his head clears, Mr. Prewett will be spending the next several days organizing and repairing the books he damaged.”

It’s never been easy for Sebastian to apologize. “I—” he swallows thickly. “I’m sorry, Professor Hecat.”

She nods curtly. “Good. Now, run along. I’ll let Professor Binns know to expect you this evening.”

Detention—Sebastian’s mood worsens as he finally leaves the classroom. He should’ve gone to breakfast.

|_ | _ | _ | _|

After devouring his evening meal in the great hall, Sebastian begrudgingly makes his way to the dungeons, but instead of returning to the Slytherin common room for the evening, he diverts toward the familiar door at the end of a long hall. The detention chamber is a dark, cramped room, full of old desks and oddities from a bygone era. He eyes the stockade in the corner and shivers, grateful he didn’t attend Hogwarts when the torture of students was permitted.

Sebastian is surprised to see Professor Weasley instead of the ghostly Binns, and she greets him with a cordial smile, even as she confiscates his wand. It’s only for the next few hours, but the separation creates an uncomfortable knot in his chest. He sighs, flopping down into the least dusty bench, unceremoniously dropping his satchel on the desk in front of him. He waits to see if anyone else enters the room, but of course, he’s the only one with detention this evening. The school year has only just begun—this must be a new record.

He glances at the clock—three hours until curfew. Easy enough.

For the first hour, he finally finishes his assignment for Ancient Runes, pleased with the results. Next, he reads through an old tome, carefully moving the pages so they don’t turn to dust. Most of the text is in Sanskrit, which even Sebastian cannot begin to fathom how to translate. Still, there is much to be gleaned from the diagrams and drawings of ancient rituals depicting what he can only guess is dark magic.

“Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian flinches, momentarily worried he’ll be caught with such an illicit book. He pretends to be taking notes as if it is just another one of his many coursebooks, anxiously glancing up as Professor Weasley stands to approach.

“I have a request for you,” she says and he nearly tells the professor to queue up behind Hecat. Instead, he neatly folds his hands over the tome in a poor attempt to disguise its true contents.

“What kind of request?” he asks, already suspicious.

Professor Weasley flashes another polite smile. “This concerns our newest student—”

“Sloane?” he confirms with a raised eyebrow. It has to be a coincidence.

“Why, yes,” the Deputy Headmistress replies. “You share many classes—are you—”

“Not at all,” Sebastian interrupts, biting his tongue when her expression falters. “I mean…” he taps his fingers against the desk. He and Sloane are in a lot of the same classes, but he isn’t interested in anything more. Especially after today’s events, he is likely a jerk to be avoided at all costs.

“I’d like you to escort Miss Sloane to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon,” she explains, ignoring his distressed state. “And before you worry about your classes, I have already sent an owl excusing your absence.”

Sebastian frowns. Why is he, out of all the students in the school, suddenly being trusted with such responsibility? “Are you certain?”

Professor Weasley nods.

“Is this punishment?” he asks next.

“No, do you think it is punishment?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer.

“You need a distraction, Mr. Sallow,” she sighs, and he realizes very quickly she—and perhaps the other professors—mean to keep him busy so that he stays out of trouble in his endeavor to cure Anne. Solomon—he grumbles to himself, knowing his uncle has something to do with this.

“You know the area, and understand how important it is to avoid danger,” Professor Weasley continues. “Victor Rookwood may be terrorizing the Highlands, but Hogwarts and the Hogsmeade village will be safe.”

Sebastian still isn’t convinced but doesn’t bother with arguing. He relents with a small nod, lips pursed in a straight line. “Fine.”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Sallow,” the Headmistress speaks in a softer, kinder tone. “Despite your penchant for detention, you are one of the few students I can trust to be kind to the young miss.”

Ironic, considering what he’d done that morning. Kindness usually doesn’t result in concussions. Sebastian suddenly finds himself thinking about Sloane’s sad eyes and the sympathy he felt towards her at that moment. Maybe Professor Weasley is right, and he is kind, without even realizing it. His reputation could be worse, but first impressions are everything and he’d already made an utter arse of himself.

Tomorrow, he’d find out for certain.

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The Call of the Void | Chapter 3

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Siobhan struggles to acclimate, but makes her first friend. Chapter warnings: None [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

III: C h a r m e d

Siobhan’s first week at Hogwarts is overwhelming.

For a girl who never spent more than a fortnight away from home, adjusting to the castle grounds is no small feat. Nottinghamshire is a blade of grass in comparison to the sprawling Scottish Highlands, a seemingly infinite horizon that makes Siobhan feel insignificant. There is so much to see, but until she can make it to her classes without getting lost, further exploration will need to wait. Not that there is time for wandering about in the first place, not with the amount of assignments she has.

Even though Professor Fig provided her with as much tutoring as he could—condensing four years worth of education into one summer—she struggles to keep up with the other students. Her schedule includes eleven different subjects, all taught on a weekly basis between Monday and Friday. There is only one elective alongside the core classes, but Siobhan figures she will be spending most, if not all her spare time studying and practicing spells as to not look incompetent in front of her new peers.

It would be easier if Professor Fig hadn’t left for London so soon after her sorting, especially considering all the unanswered questions surrounding ancient magic that swirl in the back of her mind. The power is dormant for now, but tickles beneath her fingertips, reminding her it can make a surprise appearance when she least expects it. What happened at Gringotts is a secret between her and the professor for now, one she isn’t sure she should be keeping. But there is nobody else for her to trust—not yet—not even the Deputy Headmistress who offers guidance in Fig’s absence.

Professor Weasley is a busy woman with a thousand-and-one responsibilities, but she is also patient and far more approachable than Headmaster Black, whom makes himself scarce after the opening ceremony. The Headmistress acknowledges Siobhan’s anxieties, but assures her that life at Hogwarts will be exciting, full of adventure and memories to last a lifetime. Friendship, the professor suggests, will help her acclimate.

Siobhan isn’t so sure.

She is an outsider, a stranger in a strange place without the slightest idea of how to fit in, let alone make friends. Deep down she knows she only has herself to blame, the reinforced walls that shield her emotions causing her to appear cold and unapproachable. While she is guarded, she is also too shy and too nervous to ask for the help she so desperately needs. Emotional connections can leave one vulnerable to disappointment, or worse, heartbreak. Her father calls her stubborn, but Siobhan knows it is better to rely on oneself than others.

That first week is all it takes for the other students to decide she is not worth the effort, finding it easier to pretend she doesn’t exist at all. At least Siobhan is used to being alone. It might be the one thing she is good at.

Monday arrives and with it the start of a new week of classes and inevitable confusion. Siobhan wakes before her roommates, slipping out from the dormitory so she can avoid the crowd of students that will soon be making their way to the great hall for breakfast. There are only a few other like-minded early-birds sitting at the long tables when she arrives, lingering long enough to snag a small pastry before making her way to the nearby courtyard.

Sitting on one of the many stone benches beneath the archways, Siobhan watches the sunrise over the perfectly still lake, covering the grasslands in shades of pink and gold. It is the end of summer, yet there is already a slight chill in the air, reminding her again that she is a long way away from the warm September days spent on the farm. She closes her eyes, imagining that she is sitting on the tree-swing by the barn, the grass tickling her bare feet with the sunshine kissing her freckled cheeks.

Home.

In the distance, the bell tower signifies the end of the breakfast hour. Siobhan scrambles, realizing she’d slipped into her own little world for a lot longer than she intended. Monday morning, she thinks to herself as she crosses the viaduct bridge, pretending to know which way she is going. Professor Weasley’s tour was extensive, but the amount of passageways and moving staircases make even her map obsolete. She mumbles to herself, Monday morning is…Potions? No. That’s Wednesday…Today is…Charms with Professor Ronen…

Siobhan pauses in the central hall, worrying her bottom lip as she watches various students head to their classes without issue. Even the first-years are excitedly scurrying along, worsening her shame. By the time she remembers the correct path, it is almost a guarantee she will be late. Except, when she arrives to the Charms classroom, she finds it empty. Confused, she peers around for a moment, wondering if she truly has mistaken the day and her schedule. Is she supposed to be somewhere else?

“Poor Miss Sloane, left behind on her own…”

Startled, Siobhan nearly drops her belongings as a shimmering entity shoots up from the floor, whirling around her head as it laughs. A ghost—just another aspect of Hogwarts she is still trying to wrap her head around. There is one in the Hufflepuff common room as well, and several that float through the halls, but none are nearly as loud as—

“This little lass is late for class!”

Unsure of how to respond, she simply nods.

“Cat got your tongue? Have nothing to say? What if I told you where the others have gone to play?” The ghost turns itself upside down, the large grin appearing as an unsettling deep frown. “You are in the wrong place, the class is long gone! Time to make haste to the flying lawn!”

Siobhan instinctively knows trusting a poltergeist—especially one who speaks in rhyme—isn’t wise, but with no other ideas, she mumbles a quick thank you before rushing as quickly as she can without tripping over her own feet towards the western lawn. Once outside, she finds her fellow Charms classmates—most are idly lounging in the plush grass, while two others stand on an elevated platform, taking turns magically pulling a large ball across a scoreboard.

She watches, somewhat breathless from her frantic journey across the school grounds. Siobhan wonders if it would be better to simply skip class for the day and save herself from further embarrassment, but before she can sneak off, Professor Ronen spots her and excitedly waves her over. She can feel her face heating up as she crosses the lawn, thanking God with every step that only a few students glance to see her late arrival before refocusing on the game.

“Ah, Miss Sloane,” the professor greets, bright as ever. His cheery disposition does little to comfort her. “So glad you have joined us,” he says, gesturing with a sweep of his arm to the setup behind him. “As you can see, we are taking advantage of the wonderful weather today. Summoner’s Court is a perfectly practical way to practice the summoning charm!”

Accio, Siobhan remembers, from both Professor Fig and the first Charms lesson the week prior. She isn’t terrible with the incantation, but it still requires quite a bit of concentration for her to successfully perform.

Professor Ronen claps his hands together, his eyebrows arched expectantly. “Would you like to give it a try?”

She gulps, glancing over his shoulder to see the students casting Accio with ease. “Perhaps…later?”

If the professor is disappointed with her answer, he doesn’t show it. “Yes, why don’t you observe a few rounds first? Oh, what fun!”

When Professor Ronen walks away to match up two new students, Siobhan settles down in the grass behind the main group, taking out her wand and flicking open her textbook to read over the section about summoning charms. She’s barely read one sentence when a person-shaped shadow darkens the pages.

“We missed you this morning.”

She looks up to see Poppy Sweeting, a fellow Hufflepuff, smiling as she lowers herself to sit on the ground next to her. Poppy is the only person, besides the professors, to make an attempt in speaking with Siobhan, and doesn’t seem perturbed by the usual silence that follows. A flicker of guilt passes through Siobhan, recognizing that her roommate’s efforts are most likely genuine. She can at least try to reciprocate.

“I—” she starts, silently cursing herself already for not knowing what to say. “I like to watch the sunrise.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Poppy replies, her smile brighter than before. She’s just as petite as Siobhan, but is bursting at the seams with positivity. “If I didn’t enjoy sleeping in so much, I’d join you.”

It isn’t like Siobhan has a reply ready, but before an awkward pause can develop, Poppy is gesturing at the wand resting in the book’s crease. “Are you still using a borrowed wand? Have you been to Ollivanders yet? I still remember how I felt when I chose my wand—rather, when my wand chose me.”

“No, I haven’t,” Siobhan answers. Professor Weasley mentioned organizing a trip to Hogsmeade, so that she can replace her wand and familiarize herself with the wizarding village, but the Headmistress had yet to send word on when that would be.

“I’d be happy to go with you, when you do,” Poppy says, signifying for the second time her interest in Siobhan’s company. They are momentarily distracted by cheering from the other students as another victor of Summoner’s Court is declared. The other girl flicks her brown eyes between the rest of the class and Siobhan. “Have you had a chance to meet the others?”

“Not…formally,” Siobhan shakes her head, shameful in her shyness all over again. There are just about fifty other students in the same year as her, far too many for her to memorize names within a week. “Do you all know one another?”

“More or less,” Poppy offers a half shrug. “Everyone at Hogwarts has been here since their first year—other than a few transfer students, that is,” she explains. “A lot of them have known each other their whole lives, especially those from well-known families. Not everyone are friends, but there is at least an effort to be civil.”

Siobhan picks up on Poppy’s word choice and wonders if her roommate is a bit of an outcast, too.

“I don’t mean to make it sound like everyone is mean, they just…” Poppy quickly adds before trailing off in thought, tucking a strand of straight brown hair behind her ear.

“Aren’t used to change?” Siobhan offers. Neither is she.

“They’ll warm up to you, eventually.”

Siobhan appreciates the encouragement, but thinks she will be just fine if the others remain indifferent to her presence. She’ll have an easier time concentrating on her studies without the added distraction of forming and maintaining friendships. Poppy scoots a little closer, her voice dropping as she points at the two students taking their spots on the platform.

“That is Charlotte Morrison and Leander Prewett,” she says. Siobhan recognizes the curly-haired Charlotte as another Hufflepuff house-mate, and red-headed Leander as someone she’s seen in her other classes. The two are having a heated discussion over who is the better player after tying in points. “Don’t let their bickering fool you…” she switches to a whisper, one hand cupped over her mouth. “They’ve been caught snogging on more than one occasion in the last year.”

Siobhan is momentarily surprised by Poppy’s plain speak and the fact she feels comfortable enough with her to engage in teenage gossip. She bites back an amused grin, her cheeks warm at the revelation some of her classmates are romantically involved. Professor Fig’s discussion on wizarding society was brief, but Siobhan understands that the standards are not quite the same as they are in British Muggle society. Women have far more agency, sex isn’t a taboo subject, and everyone is free to court and marry whom they please. A girl can wear pants if she chooses, and won’t be shunned for kissing a boy. Still, it is not something she is used to hearing about.

Poppy continues her tour of the class, moving on to two girls in red sitting nearby. “Cressida Blume and Natsai Onai—she transfered from Uagadou last year. Her mother is the Divinations professor.”

“Those two…” she points over to another pair in dark blue, though they aren’t sitting remotely close to one another. One’s posture is as straight as her black hair and the other is fiddling with his glasses. “Samantha Dale is…well, she called Lenora potty, so…”

Lenora Everleigh is their roommate, and while she is a little brash, she doesn’t deserve the assigned trait. Siobhan looks to the other Ravenclaw. “And he is…”

“Duncan Hobhouse,” Poppy replies with a slight grimace. “I—erm…well, my grandmother says if you don’t have anything nice to say about someone…”

Siobhan may not know Poppy very well, but figures Duncan must’ve done something very bad to earn such animosity. Best to keep her distance and not find out. Her gaze shifts over to where two boys are in deep conversation, the brown-haired one animated in his gestures as the blonde listens intently.

“Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt,” Poppy provides their names, noticing Siobhan’s focus. “Slytherin boys, but they’re mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?”

“Slytherin has a reputation,” the other girl starts to explain. “Unfortunately, many live up to it with their pureblood idelogogy, but Sebastian and Ominis are…surprisingly nice.”

“He’s in almost all my other classes,” Siobhan comments, recalling Sebastian’s presence from the prior week. Not that he’d spoken to her, but they share workstations and desks, likely due to the fact their surnames come after one another when sorted alphabetically. “He’s…quiet.”

“Who, Ominis?” Poppy questions, already nodding her head in agreement. “I suppose he does keep to himself.”

“No, I mean,” Siobhan refrains from pointing. “Sebastian.”

“Oh,” Poppy seems surprised, blinking a few times as she responds. “That’s…not how I would describe him at all,” she laughs. “Sallow is a bit of a troublemaker, nothing too nefarious, but I swear he’s in detention more than he’s in class. I wouldn’t be surprised though, if the change in mood has something to do with his sister…”

“Sister?”

Poppy hesitates, as if she is unsure about sharing the details. “Anne. All I know is that she was too sick to come back to Hogwarts this year.”

Siobhan nods in understanding, though her mind swirls with the possibilities. What ailment can’t be cured by magic? Isn’t that the point? Then again, what does she know?

Before Poppy can proceed privately introducing the remainder of the class, Professor Ronen returns, and this time Siobhan knows she won’t be able to escape his enthusiasm. “I believe it is now your turn, Miss Sloane! Come now, I assure you it will be fun!”

Siobhan reluctantly nods, meekly smiling at Poppy’s reassuring thumbs up. She steps up onto the platform, wand in hand, fully aware that all the attention is now on her. Natsai is chosen as her opponent, and approaches with a friendly expression.

“Hello,” she greets in a polite, accented voice. “I am Natty. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s…nice to meet you, too,” Siobhan nervously replies in kind, quickly shifting her focus to the large game board. Professor Ronen gives a brief explanation of the rules for her sake, indicating she is to be blue, while Natty is red and first to move.

“Here we go!” The Gryffindor girl’s confidence is to be admired as she effortlessly casts the summoning charm, bringing one red ball forward until it is within the area marked ‘40’. Siobhan shakily steps closer when it is her turn, steadying herself as well as she can. Think clearly, she remembers from her Charms textbook. Envision the object you with to summon in your mind, as if nothing else exists.

She takes a deep breath before attempting the proper wand movement, exhaling as she says the incantation. “Accio!”

Her magic latches onto the first ball, but as she compels it forward, the speed in which it travels sends it toppling off the edge. Zero points. Siobhan frowns, wishing the ground would suck her up that instant. Natty holds a sympathetic smile as Professor Ronen suggests Siobhan relax.

Easier said than done.

However, after Natty’s second turn in which she brings her score to sixty, Siobhan sharpens her focus, determined not to make a fool of herself. This time, when she casts accio, she murmurs further directions under her breath, telling the blue ball to stop when it crosses into ‘50’. She can’t help but sigh in relief when it works. Natty’s third and final turn leaves her with ninety points, meaning Siobhan will need to score fifty again in order to win. When she does, she is too surprised by the unexpected win to notice Professor Ronen’s excitement.

“Congratulations,” Natty says, unbothered by the loss. Siobhan accepts her outstretched hand to shake, still flustered by the outcome. Even though she suspects Natty may have gone easy on her, she allows herself a moment of pride.

“Bravo, Miss Sloane! How wonderful!”

Professor Ronen’s praise is thankfully interrupted by the bell tower, signifying the end of class, allowing some of the tension she’s carrying to dissipate. As he bellows instructions for what to study in preparation for next week’s assignment, Poppy excitedly approaches.

“You did so well!” she beams.

“Thank you,” Siobhan can still feel the heat on her cheeks—she’s never liked attention, even when it is positive. Poppy stays with her as they collect their belongings from the lawn.

“Do you have a free period before Creatures?” she asks, and Siobhan remembers that they share the afternoon class as well. She nods, and Poppy responds with a grin. “Great! Come with me.”

“W—where?” Siobhan stutters, surprised as her roommate links their arms together before leading the way back inside the castle.

“I remember my first week here,” Poppy says, not answering the question. “I was so shy and terrified that I spent all my time between classes hiding in the dorms. It’s always been easier for me to befriend animals rather than people, but…” she tilted her head to look at Siobhan. “Friends are important. And I’d like us to be friends. If you’d like that, of course.”

Siobhan blinks, stunned into momentary silence. She can’t recall anyone her age being this…nice. For once she feels inclined to let the past not dictate her choices and to ignore the fear of forming attachments—deep down, beyond the thick plaster that surrounds her heart, all she’s ever yearned for is to be included, to be wanted, to be someone’s friend.

“Yes,” she finally responds, mirroring Poppy’s bright smile. It might just be the first time she’s done so since arriving to Hogwarts. “I’d like that very much.”

“Great!” Poppy chirps again, eagerly tugging Siobhan along.

A brisk walk through the halls, and Siobhan finds herself propped up on a wooden stool in front of the mirror inside her Hufflepuff dormitory she shares with Poppy. Lenora is there too, as well as a sixth-year student that introduces herself as Sacharissa Tugwood. The older girl’s hair is a shade between violet and dark pink, paired with rouge dusted cheeks and maroon painted lips.

Siobhan is back to feeling intimidated as Sacharissa circles her with squinted eyes. She idly plays with the short, messy braid. Her hair is still damaged from the dragon’s fire, only because cutting off the ends will mean it really happened.

“We can’t let you go another week with your hair looking like this,” Lenora comments, grumbling when Poppy nudges her with an elbow. “Do you really want to be the new girl and have bad hair?”

Despite her blunt remark, Lenora is right. Siobhan isn’t the most vain person in the world, but the frizz doesn’t help her already low self-esteem. Sacharissa gently smacks Siobhan’s hand away from the braid and sighs.

“I can work with this,” she declares, brandishing her wand. Siobhan widens her eyes and is about to ask where the scissors are when the sixth-year flicks her wrist, causing Siobhan’s ash-blonde locks to fly up as if caught in a large gust. The hair continues to swirl around before finally settling. Sacharissa steps back with a self-assured expression. “Well? I told you I was an artist.”

Lenora is prevented from making a snide remark with another nudge from Poppy. All three girls wait for Siobhan’s reaction as she stands up to take a closer look in the mirror. The shorter length—not even reaching her shoulders—will take some getting used to, but the ends are no longer frayed.

“It’s not that fashionable,” Sacharissa adds. “But it’s cute. It’s very French.”

“Thank you,” Siobhan says, ignoring the older girl’s comment.

Poppy chimes in, “how do you feel?”

Siobhan smiles at her reflection, realizing a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. 

“Better.”

The Call of the Void | Chapter 2

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Sebastian finds himself in the middle of a gossip session at the opening feast. Chapter warnings: Discussions about blood status, bigotry against muggles/muggleborns and use of the m word, as well as some misogynistic comments. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

II: R u m o r s

“Did you hear about Cooper and Weasley?”

“Which Weasley?”

“The older one, with the red hair.”

“They all have red hair!”

“Well, then—the taller one! Anyways…Adelaide told Evangeline, who told Samantha…”

Sebastian Sallow is not one to pay attention to gossip.

As enthusiastic as the chattering girls at the Slytherin table are, rumor and hearsay simply do not align with his pursuit of knowledge. No, Sebastian very much prefers facts—the truth. One might argue that gossip is knowledge, the kind that can be used as currency to climb the social ladder. It’s certainly how many of witches and wizards within the Ministry of Magic earned their power, but Sebastian isn’t interested in social politics or participating in the student hierarchy that is as fickle as a Hippogriff.

Instead, Sebastian focuses on his studies. He is by no means a perfect student—and the record number of detentions is proof of that enough—but he is knowledgeable, and always manages to score well on tests and practice O.W.L.s, despite his behavior. He’s always been a curious boy, something his parents fostered, and something his uncle chastises. All the more reason to keep his nose in a book, if only to keep his parent’s memories alive, and antagonize uncle Solomon—even if it means sleeping in the storage shed behind their Feldcroft cottage as punishment.

This year, however, Sebastian has even more incentive to hide himself away in the library, and it has nothing to do with getting a head start on next year’s N.E.W.T.s. He glances up from the book spread out before him, frowning at the empty space on the other side of the table where his twin sister Anne should be. No doubt she’d be excitedly gossiping away with Grace-Pinch Smedley and Violet McDowell, but Sebastian wouldn’t mind because it would mean she was here and healthy at Hogwarts, instead of cooped up in Feldcroft with uncle Solomon.

Cursed.

This year, Sebastian is determined to find a cure, regardless of the sacrifices he must make. No matter the cost to his own well-being, or how many more detentions with Professor Binns he’ll need to endure, he will find a cure for Anne.

It is precisely why that instead of paying attention to anything Headmaster Black is saying as he monotonously welcomes students to the opening feast, Sebastian is reading his latest find, a book procured (and definitely not stolen) from Tomes and Scrolls. At least he is trying to read, but it is already difficult enough to translate Latin, harder still when all he can hear is girlish giggling.

He glowers at the pair. “Do you mind?”

“Do you?” Grace scoffs, rolling her eyes. Sebastian supposes she could be considered pretty, if she wasn’t such an arrogant snob, all because of her family name. “Only you would bring an old, smelly book to the sorting ceremony, Sallow.”

Violet’s expression is just as conceited. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit with the Ravenclaws instead?”

The two girls look over their shoulders and Sebastian follows their eye lines to the next table over, a proverbial sea of blue. One of the Eagles, Amit Thakkar, notices the group and eagerly waves. Grace and Violet swivel back, not even bothering to stifle their snickering. To his left, there is a soft smirk, and Sebastian turns to see his friend—his best friend—Ominis Gaunt, biting back a grin.

“Et tu, Ominis?”

“They have a point,” he replies, tilting his head in a way that signifies he actually wants to hear what the Headmaster has to say.

Sebastian grumbles, pressing the lower half of his face into his palm as he rests his elbow on the table. He keeps his eyes on the text, but he isn’t really reading, especially when Grace and Violet return to their blathering.

“I heard there’s to be a new student at Hogwarts this year.”

“There are new students every year.”

“Yes, but this one is starting as a fifth year.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, not that he means to eavesdrop, but it isn’t like they are whispering.

“A transfer student then,” Imelda, to his right, decides to join in on the conversation. Reyes isn’t typically one for rumors either, but it seems her curiosity is piqued.

Grace shakes her head. “My father, you know he works at the Ministry, he said that she only received their owl this summer.”

“She?” Violet and Imelda seek to clarify.

“Mmhm,” Grace nods, obviously enjoying being the momentary center of attention, the one to share such important information. “A farmgirl, so I’m told. Can you believe it? She’s a muggleborn.”

If Grace meant to whisper the last word, she’d done a piss-poor job. Sebastian frowns into his palm at the various disapproving expressions on his house-mates faces. Even though he is a so-called pureblood wizard, he’s never been one to form an opinion of someone based on their blood status or family name. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for many of his classmates, raised up to ostracize anyone who goes against the status-quo.

“Great,” an older boy seated next to Violet murmurs. One of the Malfoy brood, always quick to share a bigoted opinion. “Another mudblood.”

The derogatory word rings in Sebastian’s ears, but doesn’t seem to bother the others. He clenches his teeth, staring down at his book until the word magicae becomes more foreign than it already is.

“How fun,” this time it is one of Black’s sons, grinning like the devil himself. At the other’s speculative looks, he continues with a laugh. “Muggleborns are fun to break, if you catch my meaning. They haven’t a clue about wizarding society, and thus are so easy to seduce and scandalize,” he explains. “They make the best virgins.”

“Oh will you please just shut up!”

It isn’t until the group is staring at him that Sebastian realizes he’s said anything. His outburst seems to surprise even Ominis, whose eyebrows are raised in alarm. He flounders for a moment, muttering something about indecency that goes ignored. This time, he tunes out their chatter with a sigh.

Crude as their discussion is—not that he wants to call it a discussion—it isn’t like Sebastian hasn’t thought about…well, what hot-blooded, puberty stricken teenaged boy doesn’t think about sex? He isn’t naive enough not to notice the changes to his body and mind, and how the other girls in his year and above are more alluring than usual. His education on the matter is as secondhand as his other extra-curricular research, though the restricted section has some tantalizing selections, enough to fill his imagination and keep him sated, for now.

It simply isn’t a priority to snog or shag, not now. Finding a cure for Anne is far more important than bedding someone. Besides, it isn’t like he has a line of potential romp-mates waiting in a queue. Not that he has a poor self-worth, but Sebastian can’t see himself being on any of his classmates lists as a potential suitor, let alone someone to fumble around with in some secret part of the castle. He has too many burdens and is perhaps, at the end of the day, just plain weird.

“Well if she’s starting in her fifth year, she can’t be that talented,” Imelda says, and as rude as the comment is, Sebastian is almost inclined to agree. Most witches and wizards gain their magic in adolescence. For him and Anne, they were nine, making toads float in the family garden. “Wait, is that…her?”

Distracted by the conversation, none at the Slytherin table (expect perhaps Ominis, with his wand to see for him) noticed Headmaster Black’s abrupt disappearance and return to the Great Hall. More than a few paces behind him is Professor Fig, followed by a girl. Everyone, including Sebastian, sit up a little straighter in an attempt to catch a glimpse, but it isn’t until she’s at the front dais that her form is clearly visible.

“Merlin,” Imelda whispers. “She looks petrified!”

Sebastian is intrigued enough that he inspects the girl as well as he can from where he’s sitting. The farmgirl, as Grace so eloquently called her, admittedly does look worse for wear. Her pale-blond hair is disheveled and the standard house-robe seems to weigh her down. As she’s instructed to sit on the rickety stool to be sorted, it’s obvious to see her hesitation. Her wide eyes stare out into the sea of unfamiliar faces and—

“Has she been crying?”

“She looks like a wet kneazle!”

Grace and Violet lean into each other in a lame attempt to mute their amusement. Sebastian glares at them, biting his tongue to prevent another outburst. He can’t help but think back to the first time he ever arrived at Hogwarts with Anne, the two unwilling to let go of one another’s hand until they were forced apart to be sorted. She had gone first, claiming her birthright as the older twin (and alphabetically came first anyways), and was quickly sorted into Slytherin. Sometimes Sebastian wonders if the Hat showed him some mercy by sorting him into the same house so they wouldn’t be separated.

Cruel fate would see to that.

“Better be…Hufflepuff!”

The sudden cheers from the other side of the hall pull him from his melancholy thoughts. So the new fifth-year is a Hufflepuff? The badgers cheer for their newest addition, and Sebastian thinks it is for the best—a nervous chit like her wouldn’t last a day in Slytherin, or Gryffindor for that matter. As she slowly makes her way to sit with her new house-mates, Headmaster Black continues his speech as if the interruption never happened. Imelda curses and almost stands to loudly disagree when it’s announced that Quidditch is canceled, but Nerida Roberts tugs her back down. 

Curiosity has Sebastian flicking his gaze through the throng of students, locating the new girl where she is seemingly making awkward conversation with Poppy Sweeting and Lenora —Merlin help her.

Ominis leans a fraction closer. “I believe her name is Sloane.”

“Sloane?” Sebastian repeats. Ominis nods once, providing nothing more. “Hmm.”

He shrugs, sparing one last look at the Hufflepuff table before finally refocusing on his book.

The new fifth-year—Sloane—she is of little consequence to him.

The Call of the Void | Chapter 1

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Siobhan Sloane makes her way to Hogwarts with Professor Fig, but all she wants is to go home. Chapter warnings: None [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [NEXT]

I: (U n) l u c k y

Darkness.

Nothing but black, eternal darkness.

It is all Siobhan sees—not that she can see anything. What’s the last thing she remembers? Nothing comes to mind. For a moment she thinks she must be dead, and that the afterlife promised to her by a childhood pastor and God is a lie when she opens her eyes.

Darkness, still, but the glow of the full moon and stars make her current surroundings more bearable. Where exactly is she? She continues to stare up at the night sky, the gargantuan trees that surround her swaying in the late-summer breeze. For a long time the rustling of leaves and wind is all she can hear, until the sound of boots padding through soil echoes through her ears.

“Are you alright, Miss Sloane?”

Suddenly, she remembers everything.

Four months ago she is just a simple girl, living in Nottinghamshire with her father on their family homestead. She awakes every morning with the sun to complete her chores around the farm and spend her afternoons in the garden, or perched on the tree-swing up the hill with an old book. Her life is quaint and uncomplicated, until her sixteenth birthday when with a swish of her fork, she sends the celebration cake flying into the hearth.

A representative from the Ministry of Magic comes to the cottage shortly thereafter, effectively turning her life upside-down. Magic? She can wield magic? All she can think of are the Brothers Grimm fairytales that line her bookshelf, wondering if she’ll end up as folklore—the strange girl from Nottingham who is secretly a witch.

An anomaly—that is what they call her, with only a handful of other cases on record of a person’s magic manifesting so late in life. Not that Siobhan is old, but by wizarding standards, she is a very late-bloomer. She remains in denial until another visitor arrives, this time a teacher sent from a magical school from which she has been offered admittance.

“Hogwash?” Mr. Sloane, her father, asks.

Professor Eleazar Fig shakes his head, a humored smile curling his lips. “Hogwarts,” he clarifies. “More specifically, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The Professor is a man who resembles her maternal grandfather, grey hair and all. He is a patient and kind person, sitting for hours in the family kitchen answering every question that comes to her father’s mind. It is Professor Fig who will be her tutor that summer, should Siobhan and Mr. Sloane accept, preparing her with as much baseline knowledge as he can before the start of the next term.

It seems like a lifetime ago, now.

Then came an airborne ambush, followed by a disorientating apparition to the chilly Scottish coast, shadowy labyrinths filled with vengeful statues, and the power-hungry leader of a goblin rebellion. Not to mention the discovery of ancient magic. It is the same magic Siobhan uses to escape Gringotts with the Professor, frantically activating a magical portal that deposits them in the middle of an overgrown forest.

“Miss Sloane?”

Siobhan snaps out of her daze, grasping Professor Fig’s outstretched hand so he can help her stand. As she dusts the dirt from her hands along the front of her already soiled coat, the older man inspects the dilapidated brick from which they just traveled through. Three times now she has performed the feat, and she suspects it has everything to do with the ancient magic burning in her veins.

With her limited knowledge of the wizarding world, she cannot begin to speculate on her newfound power, seemingly dormant until she touched the container Mr. Osric received from Miriam Fig. Unfounded as it is, she can’t help but feel strangely guilty for their deaths. She reaches up out of habit to fiddle with her braid, realizing with shock that the ends are burnt and frayed, likely from the dragon’s fire she and Professor Fig barely evaded. There is little time to mourn the loss of hair, however, not when she isn’t sure the danger has passed.

“Remarkable,” Fig sighs, interrupting her frazzled thoughts. He looks to where she is standing, staring at her upturned hands. “Are you alight?” he asks again.

Siobhan shakily nods, though she can tell the professor does not believe her. Thankfully he does not press the issue, offering a sympathetic smile while he waits for her to settle. She wonders if it’s not too late to return to Nottingham and pretend this was all a strange dream. But she does not want to fall victim to cowardice, or disappoint her father, who despite his resignation and confusion, allowed his only daughter to leave home.

If only her father knew how close to death she’d been, he would lock her up in the cellar for the rest of her life, just to keep her safe.

“Where are we?” she finally asks in a quiet voice. She can almost make out a path beyond the tree-line, illuminated by a lone lantern. In the distance, a train horn bellows.

Professor Fig joins in on surveying the area, his eyebrows twitching up in surprise. “It can’t be…” he says with a slight shake of his head. “It seems those who set up the Pensive, the locket—and the path to both—wanted someone with your ability to end up here…”

His words taper off and for a moment, the professor appears deep in thought, as if contemplating his own role in today’s events, and what the future holds for them both. The introspection doesn’t last, and a moment later Fig is regarding her with an amused grin.

“I do believe we aren’t very far from the castle grounds,” he announces. “Rather convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

Siobhan wryly smiles. “Very.”

“Come along,” he gestures for her to follow.

Not a few steps down the hill, her curiosity gets the better of her. “What will happen now?” she asks, clarifying when the professor glances her way. “To the locket, I mean, to…” she trails, hesitant to broach the subject. His wife’s research on ancient magic will need to continue…right?

“I will study the locket as soon as I can, but first I must contact the Ministry,” he explains “They need to know what happened to George…and be warned of Ranrock.”

“For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between you and me,” he continues before Siobhan can reply.

“O—of course, sir,” she answers, unsure whom she would even tell, or if they’d believe her. 

The remaining trek to Hogwarts Castle is spent in relative silence, allowing Siobhan more time to comprehend all that has transpired. Not that she believes it possible to fully understand, not for a naive girl like her. Instead, dread coats her stomach, twisting round and round until she feels like she might be sick.

There isn’t enough time for Siobhan to admire the architecture, though the high ceilings and imposing towers do little to quell her anxieties. She hurries after Professor Fig as he leads her towards the Great Hall, where beyond the shut doors are the murmurs of celebration.

“With any luck, we haven’t missed the sorting ceremony,” he says. Siobhan refrains from making a quip about how terrible their luck has been so far, but she wouldn’t have been able to say anything anyways, not when a booming voice calls out to them.

“Fig!”

A tall and imposing man has slipped through the large doors without their notice, though Siobhan is sure by the sneer on the man’s face he isn’t there to greet them—at least not in the way she expects. His suit is impeccably tailored and his facial hair is well groomed, not a wrinkle or stray whisker in sight. Whomever he is, he must be important—or at least think he’s important.

Professor Fig grumbles and lets slip a curse before forcing a grin.

“Ah, Phineas!” he replies in a strained but jovial manner. Siobhan straightens her posture, recalling the name from the list of Hogwarts staff Fig provided her. Phineas Nigellus Black—the Headmaster.

“How nice of you to join us,” he says, face scrunched up as if he’s smelled something foul. His dark eyes flick across Siobhan’s appearance and she freezes, holding in her breath until her lungs burn. She wishes there had been time to fix her likely abyssal appearance and avoid making such a horrible first impression. Then again, it’s likely she could be dressed in the fanciest gown from Worth and still receive the same reaction.

Headmaster Black sighs. “But I’m afraid you are too late.” 

Professor Fig protests, shaking his head and hands in disagreement. “There were…complications—”

“Complications?” Black scoffs. Before Fig can begin to offer an explanation, the Headmaster continues. “You already know of my displeasure about this…” he motions lazily at Siobhan. “Situation. A new fifth-year? It is simply unheard of, especially one of her pedigree.”

Professor Fig scowls, shaking his head at Siobhan’s questioning glance. He will explain later, but the malice in Black’s tone doesn’t bode well. She feels the last shred of her already weakened confidence fade away and gulps down the bitter sting of emotions.

“Alas, the Ministry insisted upon her acceptance,” Headmaster Black grumbles.

“Even you could not sway their decision on the matter, it seems,” Professor Fig retorts, and if it weren’t for Siobhan’s presence, the two might have exchanged blows—magical or otherwise. “Siobhan Sloane is a capable witch, I assure you.”

“Humph,” Black scrutinizes her with disdain. “That remains to be seen.”

Siobhan wants nothing more in that moment than to be somewhere else. Home, she thinks. I want to go home.

Professor Fig’s expression darkens. “Phineas—”

“No matter,” the Headmaster waves his hand, silencing the older man. “Miss Sloane may join the rest of the students in the Great Hall. Consider yourself lucky—”

There’s that word again.

Siobhan never wants to hear it again.

“—we might still be able to get you sorted this evening.”

Headmaster Black spares once last glance at her before sharply turning on his heel to renter the Great Hall, not bothering to wait for them to follow. Siobhan deflates, exhaling as tears immediately flood her vision. Professor Fig quickly steps to her side, offering a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

“Allow me to apologize for the Headmaster’s abhorrent behavior,” he murmurs, eyebrows creased in a mix of concern and frustration. “Godric knows he never will. How he is permitted to keep his position whilst disrespecting the students and staff is beyond me.”

Siobhan says nothing, too preoccupied with sniffling and drying her tears. She feels like a inconsolable toddler, annoyed with herself for being so damn sensitive. Her father claims it as his favorite trait, but she feels cursed, embarrassed by the flush on her cheeks. Knowing she cannot stay there in the hall forever, she attempts to regain at least some of her composure.

Professor Fig—bless his patience—doesn’t speak until she lifts her chin, just enough to see the same sympathetic expression from earlier. She wipes at her face one last time, clutching the handkerchief tightly in one hand.

“Here, allow me,” he says, taking a step back as he brandishes his wand. With a flick of his wrist, he transforms her tattered coat into a dark, clean robe. She stares down at the Hogwarts insignia and the heavy reality of the situation comes crashing down.

“Are you ready?” Fig asks, affectionately patting her shoulder to offer some small encouragement for what she is about to face. No, she wants to scream to the professor and anyone else who will listen. She wants to run away while still can, but her feet shuffle forward, closer to the Great Hall doors.

Something tells her there is no turning back now.

Siobhan feigns bravery with a shaky smile. “Y—yes.”

It is a lie.

Places We Won’t Walk | Peter Parker

summary ↠ superhero!y/n au: when you have superpowers thrust upon you, sacrifices have to be made. some more willingly than others. 

wc ↠ 4.5k

warnings ↠ depictions of character injury and death. angsty as fuck. there are a few swear words too but honestly they’re the least of your problems lmao

a/n ↠ recently I’ve found myself reflecting on the amount of loss Peter has experienced. loss of innocence, loss of childhood, loss of loved ones… this guy is a teenager and yet he is constantly forced into being an adult and it !! is not fair !! I wanted to play around with this sense of loss, and this fic gave me the perfect opportunity to do that. it made me cry lmao. *there’s a lil bit of a pov switch near the end, but it’s intentional*

↠ this is my submission for @mischiefandi‘s writing challenge. it’s based off the song, Places We Won’t Walk by Bruno Major. I made it a superhero au to fit my guideline! thanks so much for the challenge, V, I had a lot of fun with this <3

“You ever wish you weren’t a hero?” 

The words fall past your lips before you can stop yourself. There’s a silence. Then a presence appears beside you, and you feel Peter wrap his hand in yours as he joins you by the window.

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice soft, questioning.

You tilt your head at the scene beneath the window. Central Park sprawls out in front of you, the lush green trees and speckled flowers brightening up the centre of New York City. The windows are shut, but you can imagine the sounds drifting up from the park: children laughing, lovers embracing, friends chatting. A sense of bitter jealousy sours your mouth as you force your gaze away from the park, the pain in your heart twisting angrily. 

“We’re up here, working,” you start, picking your words carefully. “The world goes by below us. People- they fall in love, yeah? They hang out with their friends, they live their lives and they’re happy. Meanwhile, we stay up here, working alone, sacrificing everything.” You can’t help the bitterness that sweeps into your voice. You glance tentatively to Peter, who’s gripping your fingers a little harder now, his face pinched in an expression of anguish as his soft brown eyes flicker over the park.

After a moment, he sighs. “No one said life was going to be fair, Y/N.” 

Keep reading

What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist. 

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it. 

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb. 

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had. 

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch. 

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock. 

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would. 

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again. 

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been. 

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship. 

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself. 

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch. 

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him. 

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards. 

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight  because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I’ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore. 

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away. 

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it. 

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it. 

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–” 

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer. 

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving. 

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off. 

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head. 

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep. 

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist. 

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

The Last Of The Real Ones || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Request:  Could you do a Peter Parker imagine where it’s a soulmate where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on you. The problem is the reader meets her soulmate when he saves her as Spider-man over the summer. She transfers to Peter’s school and he knows that she is his soulmate but he forgot what he told her so basically he tries to get her to fall in love with him but when he realizes she is faithful to Spider-man and so he reveals himself to her.

A/N: Yes it is named off of the Fall Out Boy song because I was listening to it while writing this. Whatta bop.

masterlist

You’re friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, of course.

For as long as she could remember, those words were etched onto the side of her hip, and they would stay there until long after she was dead. She never thought that the day she would meet her soulmate would also be the day she met a superhero.

Y/N had been living in Queens for a few weeks on the night she met him. Her family had just finished unpacking everything in the house and she wanted to go explore.

It was everything she could’ve expected. The horizon was littered with lights from all of the nearby boroughs, but every other block was dark. Y/N looked at the time, realizing how late it was, she decided to head back to her new apartment. Wanting to get home quickly, she took a shortcut down an alley.

Walking to the beat of the music that was blaring in her headphones, she wasn’t aware of the man following her.

Y/N was suddenly pushed against a wall, her headphones falling out of her ears. “What the fuck, man?” She exclaimed, trying to push the grimy person away.

As she was struggling, she felt something cold press against her neck, making her halt her movements. “Don’t you dare move a muscle, sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear.

Her breathing sped up, not knowing what to expect, “Help! This sick son of a-” She shouted at the top of her lungs, but halted as she felt pain overcome her.

“Hey, shut the hell up!” The man grumbled.

A sharp cut had made its way onto her collarbone. She gasped, biting her lip roughly to help her prevent screaming again.

Suddenly, a flash of red swooped by, knocking the man away from her. She let out a breath of air, glad the man was away from her.

The one in red shot something, strange from his wrist onto  the guy and stuck him to the wall. He turned around going to Y/N, “You just saved my life. Oh my God, I almost died. W-Who are you?” She was so out of breath as she spoke to the man.

Spider-Man froze as the girl brushed a hand through her hair,and he looked at the man who tried to hurt her. Those words were written on his lower ribs, that random jumble of sentences was written on him.

He smiled nervously under his mask, “you’re friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, of course.” Y/N looked up into the robotic eyes of the person standing before her. “Holy shit.” She whispered.

Keep reading

The Script

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you and Peter break up once you find out his secret and he falls apart

Masterlist

“We broke up.”

The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face. Ned turned around in his desk chair and pulled his earbuds out of his ears.

“What? No way.” He laughed dismissively at the assumed joke until he noticed the red rim around Peter’s eyes.

“It’s true. She broke up with me. She doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” Peter repeated through a childlike cry.

“But I thought you had a date tonight? Did something happen?”

10 minutes earlier

“Peter?”

Peter froze in the alleyway and stopped looking for his backpack. He turned around slowly and saw you standing there under a harsh street light with his backpack in your arms. The webs he had shot on it to keep it secured against the wall were still hanging off.

“It’s you? You’re the Spiderman?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper. You were looking at him with a mixture of betrayal and confusion as you clutched his backpack like you were a child with a teddy bear. Peter still had his mask on so he stayed dead silent.

“Say something.” You seethed, a newfound anger in your voice and eyes. Peter gulped and nodded his head, knowing there was no point in lying.

“I am.” He said, making your face crumble when you heard his voice. You held the backpack tighter and stared at him as your face crumbled.

“What are you doing out here? Did you follow me?” Peter asked you.

“No. You never showed up to our date. I called you when I was walking home. Alone. I heard your phone ringing in this alley way. It was in your backpack. Here’s your stupid fucking backpack.” You said through clenched teeth and threw the backpack at him. He caught it with ease and dropped it to the floor.

“There have been Spiderman sightings on Youtube for years. Years. You never told me?” You asked and surveyed every inch of his suit as you saw it up close for the first time.

“Nobody knows.” He said quickly. “I mean, May knows. And Ned. And a handful of people I work with. But that’s it, I swear. I don’t expect you to understand this all right now but please believe that I have to keep my identity a secret for my safety. And your safety too.”

“You don’t expect me to understand?” You laughed and tilted your head to the side as if to ask if he was serious.

“I just mean that I know this is a lot to process right now.”

“It’s not a lot. You’re the Spiderman and you never thought that was something I should know. I had to find out on accident after getting stood up for the hundredth time. But, sure, I’m glad Ned knows.” You nodded and looked up so your tears wouldn’t fall.

“I would’ve have told you eventually. I just needed more time. If people knew who I was, everything would change. I wouldn’t be able to help people there way I do now. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Since when am I just “people”and “anyone” to you?” You shook your head. “How could you keep this from me for this long? We’ve been dating for over a year. And I’ve known you since middle school. How much time did you need?“

“I don’t know. It just never felt like the right moment to say it. I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“You just never did.” You shrugged. Peter recognized that the situation was quickly escalating and you were not reacting the way he always imagined you would.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset right now.” Peter said calmly. “I thought you’d be happy to understand why I have to miss so many dates and flake all the time.”

“You thought I’d be happy to learn that you’ve been lying to me for our entire relationship?” You laughed again as tears fell down your face.

“I wasn’t lying.” He defended. “I just couldn’t tell you the truth yet.”

“Yet. Right.” You smiled tightly. “We’re over a year in but haven’t gotten to the point where you can be honest with me. I see.”

“I am honest with you. This is the only thing I’ve ever lied to you about. I promise.” He said and tried to step closer to you. You immediately stepped back and hugged yourself.

“I thought you loved me.” You said as you stared at the ground.

“I do love you. How can you even question that?” He laughed in shock. You looked up at him and he saw that your anger had turned to sadness.

“Peter, you stood me up countless times. Tonight included. You let me cry myself to sleep for so many nights. All those times I walked home alone after already getting to the restaurant or watched movie by myself through tears because you couldn’t bother to show up. You knew I was feeling insecure lately about the distance between us but you still decided to say nothing to cue me in as to why it was happening. Do you know how painful it is to feel someone you love pulling away and have them tell you your suspicions are all unfounded? How long would you have let me feel that way if I hadn’t caught you tonight?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this was affecting you.” Peter said quietly.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Look, I know this is really upsetting now, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Peter said and put his hands on his shoulders. You pushed him off of you and took a step back. Peter gulped and wondered how he was going to make it out of this conversation alive because he had never seen you reject him like this.

“You always say that. And you never do. I have a long list of things I’m still waiting for you to make up for. Why should I believe this time is different?” You asked him and folded your arms.

“It will be different. I promise. I’ll fix this. Stop walking away from me.” Peter pleaded and reached out to touch your face.

“It’ll be different. You promise. You say the same thing every time. And yet, I always end up crying over you. I shouldn’t have to cry over a relationship I’m still in.” You said as you pushed his hand away from you. An anxiety built in Peter’s stomach as he was used to you telling him it was fine every time he had disappointed you in the past. This time was clearly different and he didn’t know what to do. You turned and started to walk away from him so he quickly followed after.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, Peter.” You said without stopping.

“No. You can’t leave now. We have to talk about this. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. You can take it all out on me. Just don’t go, please.” Peter begged as he stepped in front of you to stop you.

“I don’t want to cry anymore, Peter. I’m done. This is done.” You cried and pushed past him to keep walking. Peter froze when he heard you use that word and felt his blood run cold.

“What? Done? Done with what?”

“With you. With us. With all of it. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m breaking up with you.” You said as you turned around to look at him. Peter felt his stomach drop and could barely hear you over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“What? We can’t just break up. I love you.” He protested as he got that feeling in his nose that told him he was about to cry.

“That’s not good enough for me.” You shook your head.

“What?”

“You can say you love me as much as you want but until you prove that, I can’t be with you. I won’t be with you. I’m done.” You repeated and turned to walk away again. Peter quickly ran after you and dropped down to his knees in front of you.

“No, no. No. Please. Don’t leave me. Please. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Just give me one more chance.” He begged as he took both your hands. You looked down at him for a long time as you thought things he wished he could hear.

“Please.” He whispered, barely audible. You looked up again but it was no use to stop your tears from falling.

“Say something.” He pleaded and squeezed your hands.

“I’m saying goodbye.” You said after a beat of silence. Peter made the mistake of letting his hopes build up during that silence. He stayed on his knees as you pulled your hands out of his and walked away. His tears fell rapidly down his face and it wasn’t long before his heartache turned into misplaced anger. He got off his knees and turned in your direction.

“You’re not being fair.” He called down the street. You stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“Excuse me?”

“This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be bitten. I didn’t ask for this life and all this responsibility. But it happened to me and I’ll never know why but I do know that I have to do something about it. I wish I could be a normal guy my age and take my girlfriend on dates, but I can’t. I have a duty to this city to protect it. I hate that it’s true but sometimes, I have to chose helping someone in need over spending time with you. You’re acting like I went out of my way to neglect you on purpose.”

“I understand that you didn’t choose this, but you could have told me all of that from the start. Then maybe I would’ve been more sympathetic. But right now, all I can think about is every little lie you told me to keep me in the dark. Oh, I’m sick. Oh, I have homework. Oh, I have to help my boss with something. Tonight, you told me you weren’t gonna make it to our date because your aunt needed help with something. You didn’t even care enough to lie about what she needed help with. But, yet, at least I got a lie tonight. Sometimes you just don’t show up.”

“I had to lie, okay? Do you have any idea how much danger I’d be in if you let it slip who I really was?”

“So is it that you couldn’t tell anyone or you couldn’t trust me not to tell?” You asked as you walked back up to him.

“You know how you are. You tell your friends everything.” He said coldly.

“Are you seriously saying this is my fault?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault.” He sighed. “I’m just saying that you’re being kind of selfish right now.“

“I’m being selfish?”

“Yes, you are. It’s selfish to expect me to prioritize you over the safety of-“

“Of who?” You cut him off. “Of literally all of New York? Of the world? Where does your domain of responsibility end? Who do you prioritize me over? Where do I rank? When do I matter to you?”

“That’s not fair.” Was all he could say because he didn’t know the answer to your questions.

“You know what else isn’t fair? Making me have to be the only bad guy here. Because the funny thing is that I would have been proud of you. I would have been honored to be the girlfriend of someone who risked their life and gave their time to protect people they didn’t even know. But you never gave me the opportunity to feel that way. You chose to lie to me. You chose this over me every single time. You never chose me. That’s why we’re breaking up. I would have understood if you needed to prioritize saving lives over dates with me but I cannot understand you lying to my face every single day for years. I spent birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and countless nights staring at the empty seat I saved for you that you never showed up to. So no, I don’t think I’m being selfish right now. I don’t think it was selfish of me to share my boyfriend with all of New York.”

Peter was quiet again as he processed what you had said. There was no way to undo what he had done and it was clear apologizing wasn’t cutting it this time.

“I don’t know how to be without you. You’re my best friend. None of this matters without you.” Peter said in a small voice. You sighed and felt sympathetic towards him for just a moment.

“Peter, you were and always will be my first love. That’s always going to mean something to me. But now I have to look back at our relationship and never know what was real and what was a lie. If you’re not going to choose me, then I will. I’m done waiting around for you. I’m done.”

“Please, don’t give up on me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He croaked out.

“But you did.”

“I know. I know I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll never stop trying to make things right.” He pleaded and tried to reach for you again.

“Don’t bother, Peter. You need to stay away from me for a while.” You told him in a calm voice.

“What? How long?” He blinked in disbelief.

“I don’t know. A long time.”

“But can we at least be friends? Like we were before?” He asked desperately.

“We can’t be friends.” You shook your head and turned to leave again.

“What? Not even friends?” His voice cracked as he called after you.

“I can’t be your friend. I can’t be in any kind of relationship with you. That’s what I’m trying to say here. I don’t trust you.”

“Ever?” He squeaked out. “We can’t ever find our back to each other?”

You didn’t answer him as you walked home alone. Peter stood on the sidewalk for a long time, unsure of what to do with himself now. He wanted to run after you and get you to see his side, but he knew that would just make things worse. You had said what you needed to say and he had to respect that as much as it pained him to see you walk away. Instead of going after you, he swung to Ned’s house and climbed through his window.

“We broke up.” The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face.

Peter let a month pass before he tried to speak to you again. Minus a few texts and voicemails left on particularly miserable nights, he had left you alone for the most part. But after counting down the 31 painfully long and quiet days without you, he went up to you in the hallway on campus one day.

“Hey.” He greeted you with an anxious smile. You stopped walking and looked behind you to make sure you were the one he was talking to.

“Hi.” You said with knit eyebrows of confusion.

“How are you? How have you been?”

“I’m fine.” You said flatly.

“Did you just come from class? Was it okay?”

“Um, I really don’t want to be mean here but why are you talking to me?” You asked him. Peter blinked in surprise at your response and lost all the confidence he had built up.

“Oh, um. I don’t know. We haven’t talked into a month. I was giving you space.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Giving me space.” You replied. “I still don’t want to talk to you.”

“But it’s been a month.” He pointed out and realized how silly he sounded as it came out of his mouth.

“Okay? We ended a year long relationship and years of friendship. We can’t just go back to normal after that.”

“But…but we’re different.” He stammered. “We were different. I thought, I don’t know, maybe…”

“Maybe what? I’ll just forget about the shit you put me through?” You asked when he trailed off. He shut his mouth and went quiet and you couldn’t help but feel bad at the deer in headlights look he had in his eyes.

“Peter, I told you.” You sighed. “We can’t be friends.”

“I know we can’t go right back to how we were but we don’t have to pretend the other doesn’t even exist.” He insisted.

“No, Peter, you’re not understanding. I won’t be your friend. I won’t even fake niceties with you. I’m not trying to be mean but I don’t want you in my life in any capacity. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

“We can’t just never speak again. Our story can’t end like this.” He said quietly and you could tell he was on the verge of tearing up.

“It wasn’t supposed to. But it is. So please, just leave me alone.” You asked calmly so that he wouldn’t break down.

“I can’t. This is killing me. You and I not being together doesn’t make sense to me. Please. I’ll do anything to make this right. I still love you and-“

“Peter. Please. We’re at school.” You cut him off and uncomfortably looked around for who was listening.

“You’re telling me you don’t feel anything for me anymore? Because I don’t believe that. I know you. I know you can’t shake things that easily.”

“I didn’t think so either. But I’ve never been hurt like this.”

“Then can we please go somewhere and talk? I’ll listen this time. I swear.” Peter pleaded and stepped forward to touch your arm. You stared at him for a minute and looked sympathetic so he thought you might say yes.

“I can’t.” You said finally. “I have class. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe some other time then. Just please know how sorry I am for hurting you.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, Peter.” You sighed. “I’ve moved on. I think you should too.”

“You’ve moved on? Like, with another guy?” Peter blinked a few times to stop the tears he felt threatening to spill out at this new bit of information.

“Not that it would be any of your business if I did, but no.” You amswered. “I just mean that I’d been mourning our relationship before it even ended so I accepted our breakup a long time ago. I’ve moved on now.”

“Were you really that unhappy?” Peter asked in a small voice.

“Well, yeah, Peter.” You admitted. “I loved you when you were around but it felt awful the nights you were gone. I felt completely alone a lot of the time. And even when you were with me, I was never sure you wanted to be there.”

“I always wanted to be with you.” He promised. “If you ever believe something I say again, just know how badly I wished I could have been there with you.”

You chewed your bottom lip and stared into his eyes as you tried to decide if you should believe him or not. You swore never to believe another word out of his mouth but his tired eyes seemed so genuine that you knew there must be truth to his words. But even if he was telling the truth, that didn’t matter to you anymore.

“I can’t talk about this right now. I have class.”You repeated. “Get some sleep tonight, okay? You don’t look so good.”

Another month went by and Peter was starting to feel used to not speaking to you. The thought of it beginning to feel normal to not have you in his life scared him so he called you up one night and listened to your voicemail with tears in his eyes. By month three, he pretty much just felt numb. He was falling to pieces very quickly and you were the only one who could save him. He’d seen you around on campus and sometimes get a pity wave if he stared too long. Every so often, he’d follow you home but keep his distance on rooftops. He swore you knew he was there as sometimes you’d stop and look up. He made no effort to hide but you made no effort to seek him out.

Peter was on his nightly patrol one night when his police radio started going crazy. He heard the words “bus crash” and “pile up” being reported over and over so he picked up his radio to listen for where it was. Once he had a location, he swung to the bridge and landed in the middle of the scene. Peter saw one of the large city buses on its side and twenty some cars piled up behind it. Police officers were already on the scene and helping people but Peters senses were telling him danger was still present.

“How can I help?” Peter asked an officer.

“Usually I don’t like seeing you at crime scenes but you might be able to help us. A bus is about to over the side of the bridge and our extraction guys are having a hard time getting onto the bridge with all the traffic.”

“Which bus?” Peter asked and looked around.

“It’s over there. Bus Q8.” The officer pointed out. There was a bus hanging over the side of the bridge with its nose pointed towards the water. Peter could see people inside trying to stay calm so they didn’t shake the bus.

“Q8? My girlfriend takes that bus.” Peter’s mouth went dry as his head shot back to the bus teetering over the edge of the bridge.

“Then you better hurry.” The officer called after Peter. The bus was on its side so Peter opened up the emergency hatch on the top and climbed inside. He calmed down the people on the bus one by one and assured them that he was there to get them to safety. As he spoke to the passengers, he kept an eye out for you but didn’t see you in any of the seats. You normally took the bus home at this time and Peter found it hard to believe this was the one day you didn’t.

“Was there a girl on this bus with a purple backpack? She was wearing brown converse and a jean jacket today. Did any see her?” He asked the passengers.

“Yeah. She was sitting over there.” Someone answered and pointed to the back of the bus. Peter went to your seat but only found your backpack.

“This is her backpack. Where is she?” He asked and felt his fear rise quickly. He looked around and saw that the back door of the bus was opened. He pushed the door open a little more and the bus wobbled at his movement.

“Did she leave?” Peter asked with his panic evident in his voice.

“She was helping a few people get out of the back until this little boy ran out. She told the mom she’d go find him. I haven’t seen her since.” Someone else informed him.

“Okay. Thank you. I’m gonna get you guys to safety.” Peter promised. He helped people out of the back of the bus one by one after securing the bus to the bridge with his webs. Once he was sure everyone was out safely, he began to search for you. He had an anxiety like nothing he had ever felt as he searched through the crowds for your face. As he looked around the scene, he heard a woman talking to a police officer about a girl falling over into the water. Peter felt his hair stand up and approached them.

“Excuse me? Was the girl who fell into the water wearing brown converse?” He asked and hoped the answer was no.

“I think so.” The woman replied but couldn’t be sure.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked.

“This girl helped me get my son after he ran off the bus. He had climbed into an empty car nearby to hide so she climbed in to get him. But the car fell into the water before she could get out herself.” The woman replied as she clutched her son to her chest.

“Did…did the car go under?” Peter asked with a dry mouth. The woman looked pained at his question and he already knew her answer.

“When I looked over the side, I saw it sink under the water. I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do. Did you know her?” The woman asked and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The police officer started asking Peter questions but he couldn’t hear anything. He felt like he was about to pass out and stumbled backwards. He took off running towards the side of the bridge and looked over into the water. The rocky river water looked especially treacherous that night, sending a sick feeling to Peter’s stomach. He wasted no time and dove into the water in search of you. He swam down and eventually found a car in the water but when he pulled the doors open, there was no sign of you. Peter quickly swam up to gasp for air before going back down to look again. He did this five times before he exhausted himself. He dragged himself onto the little patch of grass at the base of the bridge and laid on the ground. He pulled his mask off and let out a guttural sob as he covered his face with his hands. He knew he had to pull himself up and help the people on the bridge but his entire body felt like lead. He rubbed the saltwater out of his eyes and took another minute to recover. As he rolled over to get himself up, he made eye contact with you.

“Peter?” You asked in a shaky voice. You were wet from the river and holding yourself as you slowly walked toward him.

“You’re okay?” Peter asked as he got up off the ground. You were shivering from the cold and he wished desperately that he had something he could cover you with.

“Yeah. I managed to get out through the trunk of the car. I was on the other side of the platform when I heard you crying. Did you go looking for me?” You asked when you realized he was wet too. Peter was still in stunned silence at the sight of you okay after accepting that you had likely drowned.

“You’re okay.” He said and started to get all chocked up again. Peter took a step forward and opened his arms to hug you hit stopped himself. He stepped back and hugged himself instead.

“What are you doing?” You wondered.

“Giving you space.” He said seriously. It made you laugh for some reason which he didn’t understand but he didn’t question it.

“Shut up.” You said when your laughter stopped.

“I didn’t say anything.” Peter said as you threw your arms around him. He stumbled back in surprise but then hugged you back tightly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and slipped his hands into your hair to hold you closer. It felt like muscle memory to hold you again and the chill in his bones was gone in seconds.

“That was really scary. When the car fell into the water. I couldn’t breathe.” You choked out and he held you tighter.

“I know. Shhh. I know.” He whispered in your ear as you struggled to catch your breath. You pulled away just a little so that you could look at him.

“I thought of you.” You admitted. “When I was trying to find my way back to the surface. I was so tired and my lungs felt like they were going to explode but I just kept thinking that I needed to see you again. That’s what kept me going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I should’ve been here.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” You smiled sadly and touched his face. Peter returned the sad smile, the kind the made his eyes crinkle. But as he stared into your eyes, he couldn’t help but think of the things you had said the night you broke up.

“I should’ve been there for you a lot more than I ever had been.” He began. “You didn’t deserve to spend all those nights alone wondering where I was. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to you. I should have just told you the truth. I don’t even know who I was protecting in the end. I told myself it was you but that’s not true because you still got hurt and I was the one who hurt you. And I’m so sorry for that. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Peter, you don’t have to do this right now.” You assured him.

“I do. Because I don’t know when you’re gonna talk to me again and I have so much I have to tell you. So I need you to know that I’m sorry for all the times you got dressed up for me and just never showed. I’m sorry I let you think the distance between us was all in your head even though I felt it too. I’m sorry for all the calls and texts after we broke up because I could never stay away from you. And for following you home everyday because you looking up when you thought to was around was the closest to an encounter that we had most days. And I’m sorry that I clearly didn’t love you hard enough if you were able to move on so quickly. I guess the absence of my love wasn’t much worse than the presence of it. Or maybe the presence of it already felt like an absence. I know I was barely there in the end. I know you deserve better. And I hope you get better. You were always the best part of me and now I’m just the loser who got really lucky that a cool girl liked him and found a way to fuck it all up.”

“You didn’t fuck it all up.” You smiled sadly. “We had a lot of good times too. We were happy.”

“Not enough for you to stay. Which I don’t blame you for. I wish it didn’t take losing you to realize how much I needed to change but it did. So I don’t blame you for being fine without me. You’ll always be fine. You’re better off now without me in your life and I’m just falling to pieces. I guess when a heart breaks, it doesn’t break even.”

You started at him for a moment as your eyebrows came together. You let out a short laugh and expected him to do the same but he just looked confused.

“That’s that song.” You said finally.

“What?”Peter frowned. “What song? I’m pouring my heart out here.”

“I’m falling to pieces, yeah. I’m falling to piece, yeah. Cause when a heartbreak no it don’t break even.” You sang quietly and Peters eyes went up in surprise.

“Oh shit. It is that song.” Peter realized. “Damn it. I thought I made that up. I’ve been listening to The Script a lot lately. Especially the one that’s like “cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be.” I’ve been blasting that one so much that May had to take my speakers away. So then I started scream-singing it and she threatened to kick me out.”

“It’s so like you to accidentally quote a popular song and think you made it up yourself.” You laughed softly. “You said I so confidently that I genuinely believe for a second that those were your own words. But no. It was just the musical stylings of the popular early 2000s band The Script.”

“The Script are the only people that understand me right now.” Peter mumbled, making you laugh again.

“You laugh but they make the best music for yearning.” Peter continued just to make you laugh again. He smiled at the sight of you laughing at something he had said after so many months of silence between you. When your laughter died down, you looked at him for a moment the way that you used to.

“I don’t want you to yearn anymore.” You told him and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter understood what you were getting at and nodded his head.

“Do you think we could try again?” He asked in a soft voice. You smiled a little and took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest.

“I think so.” You answered.

“I swear, everything will be different this time.” He insisted. “I won’t leave you lonely anymore. And we can take it at any pace you need. Just tell me what I can do to earn back your trust.”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I can trust a guy who dives into the Hudson River for me.” You said with a coy smile as you nodded towards the water.

“I really hate to do this right now but that’s actually the East River of-“

“I don’t care.” You laughed and pulled him into a kiss to shut him up.

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you. 

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away. 

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation. 

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag. 

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag. 

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances. 

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too. 

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down. 

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important. 

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly. 

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.” 

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all. 

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains. 

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening. 

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it. 

He made you coffee. 

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out. 

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together. 

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down. 

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck. 

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make. 

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back. 

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched. 

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there. 

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway. 

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate. 

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying. 

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence. 

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him. 

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.” 

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you. 

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise. 

“I was angry.” 

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable. 

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it. 

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left. 

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say. 

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you. 

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks. 

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into. 

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits. 

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble. 

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn. 

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying. 

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.” 

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him. 

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.” 

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to. 

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance. 

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce. 

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you. 

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?” 

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now. 

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it. 

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game. 

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance. 

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result. 

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move. 

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate. 

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’. 

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend. 

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.” 

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!” 

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!” 

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply. 

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.” 

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine. 

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs. 

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it. 

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game. 

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity. 

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you. 

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?” 

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him. 

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you. 

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will. 

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all. 

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?” 

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes. 

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!” 

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way. 

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered. 

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction. 

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.” 

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you. 

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it. 

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.” 

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively. 

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side. 

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly. 

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time. 

“...right now.” 

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance. 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position. 

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt. 

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence. 

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout. 

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence. 

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–” 

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.” 

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.” 

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to. 

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him. 

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.  

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?” 

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you. 

“Sorry?” 

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.” 

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight. 

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately. 

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head. 

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move. 

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches. 

“You are!” His eyes widen. 

“I am not jealous.” 

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence. 

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor. 

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night. 

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again? 

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts. 

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates. 

“Oh.” 

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.” 

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you. 

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire. 

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.” 

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence. 

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never. 

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.” 

Oh. 

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time. 

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word. 

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless. 

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect. 

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?” 

“Fair?” 

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap. 

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away. 

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence. 

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?” 

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong. 

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.” 

“When you took it back.”

“What?” 

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak. 

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember. 

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed. 

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.” 

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together. 

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words. 

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.” 

You tearfully laugh at this admission. 

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound. 

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter. 

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him. 

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat. 

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps. 

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending. 

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down. 

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness. 

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is. 

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.” 

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is. 

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?” 

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth. 

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?” 

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.” 

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly. 

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps. 

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.” 

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue. 

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.” 

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.” 

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up. 

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.” 

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way. 

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact. 

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly. 

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it. 

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue. 

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it. 

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response. 

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.” 

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret. 

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other. 

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.” 

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.” 

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his. 

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other. 

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues. 

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips. 

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission. 

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless. 

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle. 

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch. 

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips. 

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you. 

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him. 

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird. 

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips. 

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’. 

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.” 

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking. 

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear. 

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more. 

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time. 

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch. 

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure. 

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.” 

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more. 

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.  

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight. 

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck. 

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet. 

“Spencer?” 

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to. 

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.” 

“About…?” 

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.” 

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter. 

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident. 

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply. 

“So you’re staying?” 

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss. 

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second. 

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses. 

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders. 

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away. 

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from. 

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.” 

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.” 

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his. 

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.” 

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to. 

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.” 

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.” 

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss. 

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened. 

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.” 

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on. 

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!” 

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed. 

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further. 

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.” 

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him. 

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation. 

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door. 

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours. 

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go. 

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did. 

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

Purple Dress

Summary: Spencer and his coworker Fem!Reader have a friends-with-benefits agreement. When he tries to end it, she shows him what he is missing out by putting on an alluring purple dress in an attempt to seduce him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, mild angst (with a happy end)

Content Warnings: minors DNI, 18+, dom/sub undertones (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader), use of nicknames (pretty/good girl), praising, mild degradation, teasing, edging, thigh grinding, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough blowjob (consensual!), fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex (please lmk if I missed anything!)

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this, I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Let me know what you think here.

Word count: 6.6k

Masterlist

Ever since Spencer and I had started our friends-with-benefits agreement I came to the realization that I was very good at following rules.

Be a good girl and keep quiet, he would say and I’d bite my lips to stifle a moan from escaping as he buried his face between my legs.

You can’t come unless I allow it, he would demand as I’d tremble under his touch while he edged me until he pitied me enough to allow me to fall over the edge.

Look at me, he would groan as he pounded into me right before coming undone between my legs.

After the first time we unwinded together from a tough case in my hotel room, we made some rules to protect our friendship and professional relationship. We agreed that sleeping together would have to be something purely physical, a way to relieve stress after a hard day at work. I allowed him to take control over my body when we were together and he promised to always respect my limits and take care of me afterwards.

It only took quick glances at each other after walking a crime scene to know what the other would need by the end of the day. As I stepped out of the shower of the hotel bathroom, I smiled to myself at the memories Spencer and I had created since we started our little arrangement seven weeks ago. I put on a set of lacy black underwear which left very little to the imagination. The thought of him calling me his pretty girl once he saw what I was wearing underneath my bathrobe sent heat directly between my legs, already anticipating what was about to happen.

The familiar sound of three knocks at the door of my hotel room had me jumping up from my current position to hurry over to open it. When I saw him standing there in a navy blue dress shirt and black slacks my heart skipped a beat right before a tingling sensation spread through my chest. I let out a breathy “Hi,” as he entered my room and closed the door behind him, smirking at my flustered reaction as I let my eyes wander over his body. I knew he wore something different earlier today and I remembered casually telling him a couple of days ago that navy blue was my favorite color. There was no need to be a profiler to figure out that I wasn’t the only one wanting to look good for the other.

“I love that color on you,” I stuttered as he pushed me against a wall, his hands grabbing my waist.

“I knew you would,” he chuckled right before leaning in to kiss me.

I turned my head away and gently pushed against his shoulders, having him instantly let go of me and stepping back. His facial features softened as he looked at me.

“It’s okay if you’re not in the mood, we can just watch a movie instead?” he suggested with a soothing voice.

I shook my head and smiled at him as I giggled, “I just wanted to show you something first.”

I opened my robe, slowly letting it slide over my shoulders and fall onto the floor. His mouth opened slightly and he licked his lips as he hungrily looked over my body as if he was planning on devouring me whole. I immediately noticed his demeanor change again, his pupils dilated as they found my eyes again, a light pink shade rising up to his cheeks as he stepped closer once more. He lifted his right hand up to my face as he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. His warm body pushed flush against mine while my breathing got heavier, the growing bulge in his pants pressed against my lower belly. He leaned down until his lips traced my earlobe, his breath hot against my skin as the tension between us grew almost unbearably.

I couldn’t help but whimper when I heard him whisper into my ear, “You look really pretty for me tonight.”

Soft lips found each other while his hands cupped my cheeks, holding me in place for him as our mouths moved in tandem with one another. His thigh seperated my legs and pressed against my core, having me moan into our kiss. Spencer ceased the moment to deepen our connection, his tongue meeting mine with a fervor that knocked the breath out of my lungs. The heat inside me grew the longer our lips continued their dance and when Spencer’s lips left mine in favor of exploring my neck instead, my knees buckled and my hips timidly started to grind against his thigh.

“Just tell me if you want to stop and we will, okay?” He mumbled against my skin.

“Yes of course,” I reassured him.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered before continuing to kiss and lick my neck.

His praise spurred me further on and I started rocking harder against his leg as I felt the evidence of my excitement dampening the flimsy fabric of my panties. As Spencer trailed his kisses down to my collarbone, his fingers brushed over my arms until they found the straps of my bra, letting them fall over my shoulder. Large hands covered my breasts, kneading the delicate flesh through the lacy fabric as a sigh left my lips. I felt the wetness between my legs and was sure that I would leave a glistening spot on Spencer’s slacks the longer I ground against them. This particular thought clouded my mind, any logical thought leaving me as I felt the tension in my loins grow.

“It’s a shame, you know,” he chuckled, “you look so good all dressed up for me but I need to take it off anyway.”

The ability to form words had long left me when he reached behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the ground.

“Gives me better access,” he said while pinching my nipples before he kissed me once more.

The movements of my hips against his thigh got erratic until he suddenly denied me any friction as his hands found my hips to keep them still while stepping back from me. I whined, my body chasing his as I was already close to finding my release. He knew of course, he always did.

“Not yet, pretty girl. Not until I tell you to,” he smirked.

Looking down at his leg he noticed the wet spot I created on his pants while using his thigh to get myself all worked up. I looked at him in an apologetic manner as I said, “I’m sorry I made a mess.”

He laughed as he guided me to the bed, motioning for me to lie down.

“Don’t be. I love to see how wet you get before barely doing anything.”

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt as his eyes wandered over my body, ready for him to do whatever he pleased. I pressed my thighs together and rubbed them against each other in an attempt to find relief where I was burning for his touch. Although I knew he didn’t appreciate impatience, I couldn’t help but beg him, “Please come here, I need you.”

“Maybe if you behave,” he snarled and stopped his actions, just standing beside the bed, watching me.

In an instant I seperated my legs again and he continued to undress. I knew he did it painfully slowly on purpose, just so he could tease me a little further. My eyes fixated on his erection clearly visible as it strained against the confinements of his pants. I felt a burning sensation deep inside me, already anticipating the moment he would fill me with his hardness. When he removed the last piece of fabric at last I had to gasp at the sight of his naked body. I thought that he might ask me if I liked what I saw, but instead I noticed him blushing and looking to the floor at my obvious display of my attraction to him. It wasn’t often he broke character when we were together like this, but I secretly wish he did. It just made him so much more endearing to me.

Just a split of a second later he was back at being dominant, joining me in the bed and attacking my whole body with his mouth. A few broken blood vessels coloured my skin in shades of red and purple as he continued his way down until he reached his destination between my legs, already spread for him. His fingers found the waistband of my panties to pull them down before he placed sweet kisses on my legs on his way up to my center. When his lips met my heat, I involuntarily bucked my hips up against his mouth. A chuckle left his throat at my eagerness, his arm hooked around my thighs to keep me still while his tongue ran flat through my folds. He moaned into me, sending vibrations through my body. When he closed his lips around my most sensitive spot, I arched my back at the stimulation, a continuation of sighs and moans escaping me. Sneaky fingers made their way to my entrance, pressing into me with ease before curling upwards.

The pressure in my center grew as I got closer to my breaking point once more. The thrusts with his fingers accelerated as he started to quickly flick over the crest of my core with his tongue. My breathing got erratic, the peak of my pleasure quickly approaching at his ministrations. Right as my walls began to tightly clench his digits, he moved away from me, denying me any further contact as he sat up to smirk at me.

“Seriously?” I cried out before I could even think about it.

“Patience, pretty girl,” he warned me.

He laid down beside and frantically kissed me, sharing the taste of myself with me. My hand found his erection and wrapped around his length, moving up and down as he moaned against my lips. His tip was already leaking, my thumb brushing over it gently. He hummed into our kiss, obviously enjoying my ministrations as my hand moved along his cock. He sat up again and harshly gripped my hips, implicitly telling me to turn around. With a pillow under my pelvis he propped my lower body up to give him better access. He positioned himself behind me and I moaned into the pillow as he let the tip of his hardness run through my crevices, coating it with my slick.

“Please fuck me. I need to feel you,” I sighed.

He positioned himself at my entrance while he chuckled, “Oh yeah? Is that what you want?”

“Y..yes please,” I moaned as I pushed my hips against him so he would finally enter me.

With one swift motion he pushed into me, his thrusts merciless and fast while he groaned, “Then fucking take it!”

He filled me out completely, moving inside me at the perfect angle for me to rapidly dance along the brink of euphoria again. With my body quivering under him, Spencer of course noticed the telltale signs of my current state. He harshly pushed in, gripping my hips to hold me in place as he halted his movements when he reached my deepest point. My walls fluttered around him, my breathing heavy against the pillow as he leaned over my body to whisper, “Do it, come on my cock.”

Without another warning he continued his actions, eliciting lewd sound from where our bodies were joined. With his encouragement I reached the state of pure bliss in no time, squirming as he helped me through my high, my walls pulsating around his erection. All the built up tension from being edged earlier left my body at once, allowing me to finally relax as I came down from my high. Spencer slowed down and whispered words of praise as he gave me a second to recover.

“You’re doing so good, my sweet girl, so good for me.”

He disconnected our bodies to turn me around so I was lying on my back once more. He propped himself up on one forearm above me, softly kissing my lips while his hand brushed over my face. His erection pressed firmly against my thigh when he offered with a hushed voice, “We can stop now if you want.”

He had told me before that seeing me come undone was the greatest pleasure for him, his ultimate goal when we were together. However, I also received a great amount of satisfaction when I witnessed him lose himself within me. I reached between our bodies and shifted underneath him to guide his cock into me once more as I smiled at him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” I sighed as I rocked my hips against his body.

“Fuck… you already are,” he panted as he started to move along with me, his hardness twitching inside me.

My hand cupped his cheeks as we shared a passionate kiss, only interrupted by moans that needed to escape our bodies. It didn’t take long for his thrusts to become erratic and his facial features to tense, soon followed by the sensation of him throbbing inside me as he filled me with all he had to offer.

His cock was still twitching inside me when he collapsed into my arms, his breath heavy and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Holding onto him, my limbs swung tightly around his body to secure his position inside my arms. His face was buried into the crook of my neck, warm lips tracing sensitive skin as he mumbled almost inaudible praises against it, “so good for me, so good my pretty girl.”

It was still too soon to let this moment pass, even as his cock softened and I felt the mixture of our essences dripping down my thighs. I wanted to keep us connected in every way possible but he finally got up at my protest and separated our bodies. Even though the horrors of our jobs were long forgotten by now, I realized that having him like this was not enough for me anymore.

He disappeared in the bathroom to clean himself up and came back with a damp towel as we followed our aftercare routine. Thoroughly he cleaned up my folds, asking me if I was feeling alright and handing me a bottle of water as he sat on the edge of the bed. Usually I was okay with him leaving afterwards, I didn’t want to risk any of our team members getting suspicious if they saw him leaving my hotel room in the morning . However, right now my chest felt heavy at the thought of him leaving, every cell in my body burning as I was still longing for his company more than I was able to put into words. Luckily I didn’t have to, Spencer instantly catching onto my micro expressions.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked me with a worried look on his face.

“Can you please stay and hold me for a little while?” I asked him.

He laid down beside me, pulling the blanket over us to cover our bodies as he whispered, “yes of course. Whatever you need.”

I curled into his side, my head finding its home on his chest, counting the heartbeats drumming against his ribs. Strong arms holding me tightly while gentle fingertips drawing small patterns into my skin. As I breathed in his scent, I relaxed under his touch, feeling secure inside his embrace. Many moments passed and my mind drifted off as slumber began to dull my senses, only to be suddenly brought back into reality when I became aware that I might have just broken the most essential rule to our no-strings-attached agreement: Don’t fall in love.

I turned around so I wouldn’t face Spencer anymore in hopes he would offer to leave now. Instead he turned to his side as well, pressed his chest into my back and placed a kiss on my shoulder before he nestled his face into my hair. Telling him to go was the last thing I wanted to do but I felt like I didn’t have another choice if I wanted to pull myself together for the sake of our friendship.

“I think I’m okay now, thank you,” I lied.

I heard him groan, realizing that he had been about to fall asleep.

“You sure? I don’t mind staying the night,” he offered with a raspy voice as his fingertips traced my upper arm, sending a shiver through my body.

“Yeah, you can go. I don’t want to take the chance of someone seeing you leaving my room in the morning,” I assured him.

He placed another kiss onto my shoulder before shuffling out of bed and putting on his clothes. He mumbled the sweetest “Goodnight” into my direction before he left my room.

As best as I could I tried to avoid any interaction with Spencer while we wrapped up the case the next day. On the plane heading back to Quantico I didn’t take my usual spot next to him and opted for the seat beside Rossi instead. Spencer flashed me a baffled look but didn’t say anything for the whole duration of the flight. I knew I was being weird towards him the following day as well, avoiding his worried glances as the whole team went through necessary paperwork. I hardly acknowledged his presence and only gave him short answers when he asked me things, being aware that our coworkers were slowly getting suspicious of my behavior. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this but I couldn’t help it if I wanted to keep my feelings hidden from him until they would hopefully disappear eventually.

When I stepped into a storage closet to put away some files, I heard someone coming in after me and closing the door behind them. I turned around to face Spencer, a worried look prominent in his face.

“What’s going on?” He wanted to know.

“Not much, just some paperwork,” I responded as if I didn’t know what he actually meant.

“That’s not… That’s not what I’m talking about. Are you angry at me?”

I flashed him the best smile I could as the beating of my heart was suddenly louder than my thoughts.

“Of course not. Why would I be angry at you?” I told him.

“I don’t know. Ever since our last night together you have been avoiding me and I… I’m worried,” he said with a shaky voice.

He stepped closer to me and reached his hand out to touch my arm but I flinched away from him before he could fully close the distance. He was looking at me with a startled expression and stepped back again as he stated, “If I was too rough with you, we really need to talk about it.”

I took a step towards him and shook my head as I sincerely told him, “No Spencer, this is not what this is about. You know I would have told you if I had reached a limit. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had done something wrong.”

His facial expressions softened at my statement, relief clearly visible in his look.

“This last case just got to me more than I’d like to admit. But we are okay, I promise.” I looked to the floor for a split second at my last sentence and I knew that was when he caught my lie. I got angry at myself for not being able to control myself better around him. He didn’t call me out for not being honest, instead he said something I wasn’t expecting.

“I think we should end our agreement now. I want to go back to just being your friend, with no benefits. I was really worried that I might have lost you in the past two days and I don’t want to feel like that ever again. Our friendship is more important to me than our nocturnal meet-ups,” he said.

Knowing Spencer, I was aware that his decision was final and there was no way of protesting him, so I just nodded defeatedly before we got back to work. I tried my best to act normal around him the following days, even though my heart never stopped aching when his honey-colored eyes met mine.

Two weeks after our conversation in the storage closet, I was lying awake in my hotel bed, the images of an especially gruesome crime scene stuck in my head. I was wondering how I was ever able to take my mind off things before Spencer and I found distraction in each other's arms. The memory of his hands on my body made me yearn to be able to feel his touch again. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was knocking on his hotel room door.

He opened up after a few moments and I instantly pushed him inside, swinging the door shut behind me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I whispered into his ear in the most seductive voice I could master, “I need you tonight, Spencer. I promise I’ll be a good girl for you.”

Strong hands grabbed my waist to push me away as a shocked face met mine. This was not the expression I was hoping for. I stepped back from him, feeling my heart-rate accelerate at the obvious mistake I had just made.

“You need to leave,” he said without looking at me.

“Don’t tell me you’re not thinking about having sex with me anymore,” I whispered in disbelief.

“We talked about this. It’s not worth it,” he explained as he opened his door again and motioned for me to step outside.

I knew that being rejected could be a possibility when I made a move but his choice of words stung more than I would have liked to admit. It was Spencer’s turn to avoid me over the course of the next few days and I started to get desperate the more I failed to make things right. I tried to apologize to him but he either ignored me or showed off a passive-aggressiveness I had only ever noticed when he was really angry at someone else. Never would I have guessed that this someone could someday be me. It baffled me how severe his reaction was, I wouldn’t have tried to come onto him had I known how upset he would be. Our teammates had long noticed that we were fighting, trying to give us advice on how to handle this situation without knowing the whole truth about what was going on.

Since I apparently had already ruined everything we ever had, I decided that there was nothing left to lose. I came up with a plan on how to make it impossible for him to ignore me any longer, to take back at least the slightest amount of power. If this was the only way I could get his attention one last time, I would take it, no matter the consequences. This was the last straw I was grasping at, already being aware that I might need to transfer to another unit if we weren’t able to resolve this situation.

That is why I bought a daring purple dress that hugged my figure in all the right places and was just a little too short to still be considered professional. I put on a set of new lingerie in a matching shade before slipping into the dress as I got ready for Rossi’s dinner party. A plan to provoke Spencer until it was impossible for him to ignore me anymore was building in the back of my head as I perfected my make-up. I had no idea if this was going to work or what would happen if it did work, but I knew I had to take a chance.

“Wow, you look hot!” Penelope squealed when I stepped into Rossi’s living room.

In an instant Spencer’s eyes found me, jaw slacked as he looked up and down my body. I smirked at him and he averted his eyes again, clearing his throat before continuing his conversation with JJ. As I helped Rossi finish setting up the table, I noticed Spencer taking a glimpse at me every now and then and smiled to myself for finally having his attention after what felt like an eternity.

As we waited for dinner to get ready, I sat down on one of the barstools, swinging one of my legs over the other to have my dress naturally ride up my thigh the slightest amount in hopes he would notice. He was still busy getting into conversations with everyone but me so I decided to pass by him, my arm brushing his backside seemingly unintentionally, making him jump at the contact.

I waited for him to sit down at the table and took the seat across from him, making it hard for him to keep his eyes away from me. When I slightly leaned over the table to grab the bread basket, I noticed him blushing slightly as he looked directly at my cleavage, now being on display right in his line of sight. After finishing dinner I was getting desperate since Spencer still hadn’t said a word to me all evening. I leaned back in my seat and stepped out of one of my heels, stretching out my leg until my foot met his shin. Immediately his eyes found mine, my foot gently moving up and down his leg while smirking at him. When I made my way over his knee to reach his lower thigh, I saw his hand wander under the table, soon making contact with me. He pushed my foot off him, having me retreat from my action and feeling defeated.

I got up and walked to the bathroom to freshen up a little. As I fixed my make-up in the mirror, I came to the conclusion that I had no other choice than to talk to the Unit Chief about a transfer. When I wanted to step outside again, I was startled by Spencer blocking me from exiting, stepping forward as he pushed me back into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and backed me up against a wall.

“You need to cut it out. Your ridiculous attempts to seduce me are not working,” he snarled at me as he pushed his body against mine.

I looked up at him and noticed his smirk and - even more interesting - a familiar hardness in his pants growing as he pressed against me. His eyes were dark and filled with lust, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips. His whole demeanor contradicted every word he had just said as my actions clearly affected him.

“Maybe you should teach me a lesson,” I teased as he leaned over me, his hot breath tickling my face.

He stepped back from me and quickly undid his belt before he demanded, “on your knees.”

Without a second thought I dropped down onto the bathroom rug, my face on the same level as Spencer’s crotch. I looked up at him doe-eyed and waited for his next move. He let his hard cock spring free and gave himself a few pumps right in front of my face.

“You look like a little slut today. Makes me think you want to be used like one,” he panted as he pleasured himself.

“Yes please,” I whimpered, getting worked up myself at the sight in front of me.

His hands left his erection and grabbed my hair instead, motioning my head forward as he groaned, “there you go.”

I grabbed his shaft with my hand and placed my lips on his tip, kissing it until I could taste his leaking precum. I let my tongue glide over the vein on the underside of his cock before closing my lips around the head, slowly sinking down his length while keeping eye-contact with him. I moved back and forth, my hand moving with me to cover what couldn’t fit into my throat. His hands were still entangled in my hair but he let me be in control of the situation - for now at least.

“Such a good mouth, you feel so good,” he praised as his eyes rolled back

The sweetest moan rolled over his lips as I accelerated my speed, swirling my tongue around him and sucking him as if my life depended on it. Knowing that it was untrue and ridiculous, I couldn’t help thinking that I could make everything right if I did this well enough. I put my free hand on his thigh and felt his muscles tense underneath me.

“Tap my thigh twice if you need to stop, okay?” He said and waited for me to slowly blink in agreement as I slacked my jaw for him to use as he wished.

I knew what was about to happen but I was still shocked at the sudden intrusion when his hands pushed against my head to take him in as far as my throat would let him. He began to move his hips, pushing in and out of me, holding me in place with his hands in my hair. Every so often he would pull back to allow me to breathe as tears started to prick in the corner of my eyes. My saliva dripped down my chin as he used my mouth to pleasure himself and I couldn’t help but moan around him. I rubbed my thighs together to create some friction where I craved to feel him the most.

When his sighs and groans became louder I knew he was nearing his climax, only a few irregular thrusts of his hips left before he painted the back of my throat with his warmth. He instantly let go of my hair, giving me back control as I swallowed every last drop of what he was offering me. When I pulled back, I placed one last kiss on his tip before he flinched away from me. Spencer readjusted his clothes and helped me back on my feet. He took a fresh towel from the cabinet and wetted it, gently wiping away the smeared mascara from my cheeks and the saliva from my chin.

He brushed his thumb over my cheek before wrapping his arms around me to pull me into a tight hug. I buried my face into his chest as I pulled him even closer.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into my hair.

Breathing in his scent, I held onto him tighter as I tried to contain the truth about my feelings for him. The longer we stayed close to each other, the bigger the urge got to just tell him everything. Before I actually risked spilling my secret, he stepped away from me again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where this came from,” he whispered as he pulled away from me.

“The blowjob or the hug?” I wondered, my heart feeling heavy at the realization that he might be regretting what just went down between us.

“Th..the sex. You kept teasing me earlier, showing me how much you wanted me. I knew this was wrong and self-centered but I thought that if this was the only way I could have you, I will take it. I’m sorry, this was not the right thing to do,” his voice broke at the last sentence, his eyes glistening as tears rolled over his cheeks.

It took me a moment to be able to speak, still confused about what was happening. My hands cupped his face, my thumbs wiping away his tears.

“Spencer I.. I’m not sure what you are talking about?” I told him.

“You’re kidding right? The second you noticed that I had feelings for you, you started to act weird around me. And when I told you that I had to end this to not risk our friendship, you still came onto me, knowing that this meant more for me than for you. It made me so angry and I…I had to withdraw from you completely to protect myself,” he explained.

“Wait a second. You have feelings for me?” I stuttered as I stepped back.

He looked startled as his eyes scanned my face trying to interpret my expression. He looked surprised as he realized that I was being sincere.

“You… didn’t know?” He asked as he let his hand run through his hair. “Then why did you act so weird around me after the last night we were together?”

It took me a second to wrap my head around what was going on right now. When I realized how absurd this situation was, I couldn’t help but start to laugh.

“For people with IQs above the average, we are actually really dumb, Spencer,” I told him as I stepped closer to him.

The confusion on his face grew, he still hadn’t grasped what was going on.

“I thought you only wanted to be friends. That’s why I was avoiding you, because I realized that I couldn’t just be your friend anymore. I want to be with you in every possible way,” I explained to him, right before wrapping my arms around his neck to kiss him.

He hesitated at first, apparently needing a second to fully comprehend what I had said. Once he did, his body melted into mine, holding me gently as he reciprocated the kiss. Time was non-existent as our mouths moved in perfect synchronicity with each other, soft and sweet. I felt him smile against my lips when my hand wandered into his hair, playing with his curls on the base of his neck. A knock on the bathroom door pulled us back into reality, our bodies quickly separating as if we were two teenagers caught by a parent.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed that I still looked somewhat presentable before I opened the door for us to exit. A wide-eyed Penelope waited on the other side, her mouth hanging open as she tried to understand why the both of us had spent a suspicious amount of time in a locked room.

“Oh…my… did you two finally talk things out?” She giggled.

We blushed and nodded, quickly leaving the situation and deciding that it was time for us to go home to figure things out in private. The goodbyes to our teammates were rushed to not give them any chance for questioning us, them already being aware of what was going on for sure. When we entered my apartment, talking things out was the last thing on our minds, as greedy lips found each other while keen hands started to disrobe one another. We laughed into our kiss, clumsily stumbling over furniture until we found my bedroom.

There was no hard case that needed to be forgotten when we laid down on my bed, nobody wanted to establish dominance or show obedience as our bare bodies pressed against each other while curious fingertips danced over delicate skin. Spencer pulled back to smile at me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face as I leaned into his touch. Goofily he peppered my face with little pecks, until I giggled and slightly pushed him off me to catch my breath.

“You never cease to amaze me, do you know that?” Spencer whispered while brushing his nose against mine.

The corners of my mouth were curled upwards when I told him, “Not as much as you amaze me.”

I pushed against his shoulder for him to lie on his back, finding my place in his lap as I straddled him. He adjusted his position underneath me for his back to lean against the headboard. My mouth found his again, soft lips parting while our tongues melted into one another. I trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, his hands running up and down my sides before they found my breasts, gently massaging them while his thumbs brushed over the hardened peaks.

The evidence of his desire pressed hard against my core, my hips beginning to slowly grind against it, spreading my own arousal on silken skin. One of Spencer’s hands trailed down along my stomach, finding its destination between my legs. With the perfect amount of pressure he circled my clit, having me moan into his skin. I rocked against his hand when he slipped two fingers into me, moving them inside me in the rhythm of the motions of my hips. After a few moments I craved more and removed his hand, quickly lining his erection up against my entrance. I sank down on him slowly, my hands on his shoulders while his hot breath tickled my face as he panted against it.

My motions accelerated as his hands gripped my hips, moving along with me. I felt like a lovesick fool, not being able to stop smiling at him while we shared our bodies with each other. His eyes were full of wonder as he looked at me moving on top of his body. He looked down to the place where we were joined, watching how he disappeared inside me over and over again until one of my hands wandered to his face. When he looked back at me I almost gasped at the beauty of the man in front of me. Hazel eyes with dilated pupils were filled with adoration, tiny creases visible in the corners of his eyes from the smile prominent on his face. Rosy cheeks radiated heat as I let my palms brush over them before my thumb traced along the seam of his lips, plump from kissing.

Even though we were already impossibly close as we shared this intimate moment, it still was not enough for me. My arms swung around his neck to pull him further into my embrace as he placed little kisses on every patch of skin he could reach. His hands left their place on my hips, wandering along my back before they pushed me further against his chest, securing my position but making it hard to move on top of him.

I kept rocking against him as he started to relentlessly buck his hips upwards to pound into me, filling me to my deepest point as both of us chased the sweet sensation of relief. Our foreheads were pressed together when I felt myself getting tight around his length. He held me even closer as my body started to tremble, my center pulsating as waves of pleasure washed through me. After a few more thrusts Spencer followed me into my high as he found his own release, twitching and throbbing inside me as groans rolled from his throat.

In contrast to the last time we were together in this way, I didn’t dread the moment we would separate this time because I was sure that our connection would last long after our bodies were disjoined. There was no need for words as we cleaned up and laid down beside each other on the mattress. Soothing touches were exchanged as we held one another, evening out our breathings and getting our heart-rates back to a normal frequency.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @safespacespence

There would still be time for us to figure everything out. Right this second it was just us being in this moment together, feeling at ease in each other’s arms without being bound to any conditions. I realized that even though I liked following our made-up rules at first, I was grateful that evidently both of us were okay with breaking them now.

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Prom Night

Summary: After everyone shared their sad (or non-existent) prom stories, Penelope decided to host a BAU Prom Night, giving Spencer the perfect excuse to finally ask out Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) a bit of miscommunication, jealous Spencer, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge!

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

“And that’s how I ended up with a broken heart on prom night,” JJ concluded her story after a couple of other BAU members had shared their prom experiences in their lunch break. 

“Aww, that’s so sad!” Penelope cooed. 

“I didn’t even go to prom,” Spencer chimed in. “I mean, I was twelve, but still…”

Derek looked at you and asked, “What about you, pretty girl? Did anything exciting happen on your prom night?”

You took a moment to think about it and shook your head, “Don’t even get me started.” 

“You know what!” Penelope suddenly exclaimed. “We should throw our very own prom night! This way we can make up for all those miserable experiences.”

“That sounds fun,” JJ agreed. “I would love to take Will to prom.” 

“Yes, that’s perfect. Everyone has to bring a date!” Penelope locked eyes with Spencer and made herself very clear, “No exceptions. Not even for you, doctor.” 

Spencer cleared his voice as a slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks. It made you smile to see him like this and you wondered if he already had someone to ask to go to prom with him. His eyes met yours for a moment and your heart immediately skipped a beat. 

To everyone’s surprise Hotch agreed to have a BAU Prom Night and made sure that you could use one of the function rooms at Quantico. Over the next few days you helped Penelope figure out the details until the date of your big night was set. 

Everything was going as planned except for one detail - you still didn’t have a date. You were sure that you were the only one at this point, even Spencer seemed to have found someone. At least that was what you assumed after you kept catching him and Derek mumbling about something (or someone) and stopping once you got close enough to eavesdrop. 

Three days before the festivities began, you and Penelope were waiting for fresh coffee in the kitchen while talking about the perfect color arrangement for decorations. Spencer approached and noticed that the coffee wasn’t ready yet, so he joined into the conversation by sharing some facts about color theory. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you turned your head to spot Anderson approaching. “I heard you don’t have a date for prom night yet.” 

“You don’t?” Spencer exclaimed. “I thought you had a boyfriend.” 

You flashed him a confused look and muttered, “What? No.”

“But you mentioned this guy a few weeks ago. I overheard you talking about a date with him,” Spencer stammered. 

“I never heard from him again,” you clarified and turned to Anderson. “And no, I don’t have a prom date yet.” 

The man you had never paid any attention to before smiled at you and said, “Well, now you do!” 

Spencer looked shocked at Anderson’s words and stormed out of the room without saying anything. You had never seen him acting this way and watched as he disappeared in the empty conference room. You flashed Anderson an apologetic look before following Spencer to talk to him. 

You found him sitting at the table, pretending to look through a file when you sat down beside him. “Spencer, what’s going on?” 

“I thought you already had a date,” he mumbled without looking at you. “And now you’re going with Anderson.”

Slowly you got a hunch what all of this was about. It made your heart flutter to realize that he wanted to ask you out. 

“I haven’t agreed to go with him, yet,” you told him. 

He finally locked eyes with you and asked, “Do you want to go with him?” 

“I don’t want to go alone. But the guy I actually want to go with hasn’t asked me yet.” 

Spencer didn’t respond, instead his eyes found the file on the desk again. You couldn’t believe how oblivious he was and realized that you had to spell it out for him. “Spencer, I’m talking about you.” 

“Wh..What?” It took a few seconds until he realized the meaning of your words. “Oh.” 

“Are you gonna ask me out now or what?” You giggled. 

“Yes! Yes. Uhm,” he cleared his voice and took a deep breath. “Do you want to go to prom with me?”

You smiled at him and nodded. “I would love to.” 

A wide grin appeared on his face and you noticed a sparkle in his eyes you had never seen before. Spencer seemed genuinely happy. 

“Should I uhm… pick you up at your place?” Spencer wondered. 

“No, I’ll get ready here because I have to help with decorations. But you could pick me up right here and we’ll walk down to the function room together?” 

“That sounds lovely.” 

After you turned down Anderson’s invitation, you and the rest of the team had to get back to your job for the next few days. It was hard to focus on work as your mind kept drifting off to the fact that Spencer had finally asked you out. Anytime that thought crossed your mind, you felt your cheeks heating up and your heart began beating erratically inside your chest. 

For the first time since you started working at the BAU, Spencer didn't look right away whenever your eyes met his. His glances lingered on you and it made you feel like you were the only person in the room with him.

When the big night finally arrived, you spent most of the day preparing the function room for the evening. About thirty minutes before everyone else would arrive, you hastily disappeared in the restroom to change into your dress, fix your hair and put on some make-up. 

Spencer arrived at the conference room just a few minutes after you. He wore suits most days but you had never seen him wearing anything that fancy. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit, white dress shirt and bow tie. 

Before you had a chance to tell him how gorgeous he looked, he stammered, “Wow… you look stunning.” 

Your fingertips brushed over the soft fabric of your dress as if to straighten out wrinkles that weren’t there. A wide smile spread over your face at the compliment. It was no coincidence that you picked a purple dress, aware that it was Spencer’s favorite color. 

“Thank you. You look very handsome, too.”

A rosy shade spread over Spencer’s cheeks while his lips curled into a coy smile. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments until he seemed to remember the item he held in his hands. 

“Here, I got you something,” he said as he let you take a look. 

It was a small corsage with white and lavender-colored blossoms. It matched your dress perfectly. You reached out your hand, implicitly telling him to put it over your wrist. 

His fingertips gently brushed over the back of your hand as he placed the corsage on your arm. His touch was innocent but ignited sparks inside your chest nonetheless. He must have felt it too because when his eyes found yours you noticed that warm glimmer in them again. 

As the two of you entered the function room the party had already started. The dance floor was filled with your coworkers, moving in ways you had never seen before. The colors of the balloons matched the rest of the decor and you were more than happy that everything had worked out so wonderfully.

“So, what do you think about your very first prom, boy wonder?” Penelope giggled as she approached the both of you. 

“It’s perfect,” was all he had to say.

Penelope grabbed you both at your arms to pull you onto the dance floor. Spencer protested at first but gave in once you took his hand in yours. You joined the others in their silly little dances and to your surprise, Spencer did too. That was until a slow song came on. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned to you and placed his hands on your waist. You let yours rest on his shoulders and began swaying from side to side. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m doing,” he chuckled as he looked down at his feet. 

“You’re doing great, Spencer,” you sincerely responded as you moved a little closer towards him until there barely was any distance left between your bodies. 

“Is this better than your actual prom night?” He wanted to know. “You never actually told us about it.” 

You couldn't stop your hands from moving to the nape of his neck, gently playing with a few loose curls as you purred, “It’s so much better.”

Just when you thought that he was about to lean down to kiss you, you noticed the high-pitched laughter of your female coworkers. 

“Aah, look! They are exactly like those teenagers in every high school romcom!” JJ chirped as she pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the two of you. 

You turned your head to find her face in the crowd, prompting Penelope to chime in, “No, don’t stop, my two lovebirds! Go on, kiss!” 

You felt your cheeks heating up at the realization that you had an audience in this intimate moment.

“Do you wanna try out the photo booth?” Spencer suggested to get away from the curious glances of your work family. 

“That sounds fun!”

And it was fun. You spent a while posing like those typical prom couples before taking a bunch of silly pictures with the props Penelope had bought. 

“Okay, I think we’re done,” you laughed once your cheeks started hurting from smiling so much. 

Spencer shook his head and pressed the button once more. “One last set!” 

Just when the countdown of the camera reached the number zero, you felt Spencer’s lips on your cheek. Your head was spinning after everything that had happened tonight. It seemed like finally being close to the man you had pined after for months gave you the courage to show some initiative. 

You turned your head to find his mouth, capturing it in a soft kiss with no intention to stop even after the last photo was taken. Kissing him then was chaste and sweet and so, so perfect. 

“Busted!” You heard Derek’s voice as he approached the photo booth with his date. “You two should get a room.” 

Almost in unison the both of you responded, “Shut up, Morgan.”

The next few hours flew by quicker than either of you would have liked. Spencer must have noticed how exhausted you were, so he offered, “It’s getting pretty late. I can drive you home if you want?”

Even though you didn't want this night to end, you knew that it was probably for the best. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Spencer nodded and took your hand as he led you out of the room. The way to his car seemed endless and the need to be close to each other was all-consuming. There was no way you could make it without giving into your desperation.

The elevator seemed like the perfect place for your second kiss. Spencer pushed you against one of the walls, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to find your lips. This time it was far from innocent, the way he instantly deepened the kiss let you know that he must have fantasized about this moment for just as long as you had. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your lips. “I’ll never get enough of you.” 

What followed felt like a haze, between longing glances, sweet kisses and bright laughter you somehow made it to your doorstep. Spencer leaned down to find your lips once more before he said, “I would really like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

You kissed him again and mumbled against his lips, “I would like that, too.”

His smile was soft when he purred, “Goodnight. I had a great time tonight.” 

Right when you wanted to respond, you remembered something. Your facial expression must have given it away, because Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Without really thinking about it, you told him, “I can’t get out of this dress alone.”

His saccharine smile morphed into a playful smirk. “Is that so?”

“I know that sounds like the lamest excuse to… you know,” you giggled. “But it's true. Penelope had to help me put it on earlier. There’s no way I’ll be able to get it off on my own.” 

Instead of teasing you some more, Spencer simply followed you inside your apartment. You lost the ability to form any coherent thought once you turned around and Spencer touched your back to undo the zipper. He opened it all the way down to the small of your back. The way his knuckles brushed over your exposed skin was intoxicating.

Once the dress dropped to the floor, you turned around again. Spencer let his sight wander over body for a split second before he found your eyes. You noticed how his fingers twitched and he licked over his lips. 

“If you don’t tell me to leave right now I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

You stepped closer to him and whispered, “Stay.” 

That was all he needed to hear. His hands were on you in an instant, exploring the curves and dips of your body while your bodies melted into one another in a passionate kiss. With joined forces you helped each other shed each piece of clothing as you stumbled into your bedroom. Spencer pushed you onto the mattress and you welcomed him on top of you. 

He began trailing kisses down your neck before biting down on your pulse point. Your whole body felt like it was floating on a cloud as you felt his lips wandering over your skin. 

“Would you have let him take your dress off, too?” He mumbled against your neck.

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking about Anderson. “No,” you sighed. “I’m yours, Spencer.”

He moaned in response to your words and found your lips once more. One of his hands wandered down your body, greedily grabbing at your skin until it found its destination between your legs. The moment he noticed that you were already dripping with desire for him, he groaned, “You’re mine.”

Your whole body felt like it was on fire when he began dragging his fingertips through your slick folds. When he focussed on your little bud, you couldn't help but start to grind your core against his hand. Your own hands became curious and wandered from his shoulders down his body until your fingers could wrap around his hardness. 

The sounds of his pleasure spurred you further on as you moved your hand up and down, letting your thumb glide over his weeping tip. He felt hot and heavy inside your palm and you got impatient to find out how good he’d feel inside of you. 

Spencer's eyes followed your hand when it let go of him to grab a condom from the nightstand instead. He was quick to put it on before kneeling between your legs. The way he took a moment to let his eyes graze over your body almost felt more intimate than anything you had done until then. 

When he leaned over you he reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your opening. Your body welcomed him without any resistance and you relished the sensation of him filling you out perfectly. 

“Fuck!” He groaned as you clenched around him. “I have wanted to do this for so long.” 

With your arms and legs wrapped around his body you brought him impossibly close. 

“Take me,” you demanded before kissing him again.

He began pushing into you, slowly at first but with an accelerated pace once he seemed sure that you could take it. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure and your bodies colliding over and over again. 

When he felt you getting tighter around him, he propped himself up on one arm and  reached down between your bodies with his other hand. When he found your most sensitive spot, he instantly began drawing tight circles around it. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” He sighed as if it hadn’t been obvious. 

You were already too far gone to answer him, your climax taking the both of you by surprise. When he felt your walls pulsing around his hardness he praised you, “Good girl.” 

Just a few moments later he fell over the edge himself, throbbing inside you before collapsing into your arms. He began mumbling sweet nothings into your ear while your fingertips danced over his back. 

After cleaning up, you found your home in each other's arms. 

“I’m really glad I got to experience my first prom with you,” Spencer cooed before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I can’t believe you almost went with Anderson though.”

“I can't believe you almost didn’t ask me out,” You snickered in response.

“Fair point.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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Casual - Spencer Reid

for the CM friends with benefits challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins <3

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

You thought that your sexcapades with Spencer Reid had meant more to him like they did to you, but after a couple of run ins with his BAU teammates you learn that he really meant 'no attachments.'

word count: just over 5k

content: smut (this is sinful whoops) MINORS DNI - 18+ ONLY: oral (fem receiving), public (ish) sexual acts, unprotected PIV, established FWB situation, drinking (just to the point of being tipsy, consent is still given), language, anxiety, angst.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

now playing: casual by chappell roan

“You finally made it!” your friend Maddie exclaimed gleefully as you walked into the latest bar that she had decided your small group of friends should try out that evening. 

Maddie’s girlfriend Celeste elbowed you gently in the ribs before teasingly asking, “Were you hooking up with Mr. FBI agent again?”

“That’d be, what? The fourth time this month?” Adrianna asked, a slight slur already in her words. She threw an arm around your shoulders and winked exaggeratedly before adding, “And it’s only the fifteenth! Get it girl!” 

“Ha ha, very funny, let’s all gang up on the girl with the best sex life here,” you joked, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the pang of hurt that shot through your gut at the comments. You grabbed a drink menu off the bar’s counter before heading back to your group’s claimed table for the evening, telling your friends, “I actually picked up an extra shift which is why I’m late and Doctor FBI agent is out of state on a case.”

“Awe, she knows when he’s out on a case, how sweet!” Celeste teased before winking and taking a sip of her brightly colored drink. 

“You three are impossible!” you said with a roll of your eyes as you stood up from your spot once more to escape the conversation and order your drink at the bar - a raspberry frozen margarita with sugar rim. Luckily when you got back to the table with your drink, the conversation had turned to Maddie discussing the latest drama at her job, so you sat back and relaxed as you sipped on your first drink of the night. 

“I can’t believe we finished all that paperwork in time to actually go out tonight,” Derek Morgan said as he stretched his arms, stepping out of his car and into the crisp evening air as he once more met up with the other BAU members at a bar the group gravitated toward when they had time to celebrate wins on cases. 

“Realistically it would have been nearly impossible for us to not get our work done in a timely manner. We got back from the case at ten AM and were all well rested after the flight, so our brains were all in ideal condition to finish the paperwork on time, even accounting for some delays in productivity due to jet lag,” Spencer Reid rambled off as they all walked into the bar, offering a small smile as some of his teammates rolled their eyes playfully in response. 

“Well all I know is that I’m getting a bottle of wine to celebrate wrapping that case,” Emily Prentiss commented as she dug through her purse. 

“What about you, pretty boy? Planning on drinking tonight?” Derek asked as he gently shoulder checked the younger man. 

“Just water,” Spencer replied. “Did you know that during long plane rides you can easily get dehydrated? The humidity within the cabin is usually around ten to twenty percent which is lower than the usual thirty to sixty percent that our bodies are used to. The lower level of humidity causes water to be drawn out of the body and the thirst reflex is diminished so you drink less water while at the same time losing more. I’m surprised that as a team we aren’t more dehydrated overall.”

The conversation was dropped as the team got their drinks ordered and then settled into a round booth at the back of the bar. As Spencer took a sip from his water, his eyes scanned the bar’s patrons to see if there were any people they may have to watch out for as the night goes on and more drinks are consumed. The water he was sipping on suddenly went down the wrong pipe though as he spotted a familiar face at the table adjacent to the team’s. It was you hanging out with a few friends, seeming to have not noticed his arrival. He wasn’t too surprised about that though because judging by the glasses on the table you were at least one and a half margaritas in and you already weren’t the most observant person when you were distracted anyway. 

“Everything okay, Spence?” JJ asked while she patted Spencer’s back. 

Derek’s eyes tracked where Spencer’s had landed and he smirked as he announced to the table, “Pretty boy just saw the girl he bangs on his couch.” 

There was a quiet cacophony of responses to Derek’s comment the moment it fell from his lips. “Remind me to not sit on your couch ever again,” Emily Prentiss commented with a quiet laugh. “Ooh Spence, how serious is this thing?” JJ asked in a sly tone. “I’m glad you found someone, kid,” David Rossi said with a nod and a toast of his glass. “As long as it isn’t going to affect you at work,” their unit chief Aaron Hotchner commented sternly. “Spencer’s dating someone? Why did Derek know this and I didn’t?” Penelope Garcia asked with wide eyes. 

Spencer didn’t respond immediately, suddenly overwhelmed by the barrage of comments, so Derek took a moment to dig the hole even deeper by adding, “He made me swear not to tell baby girl.” He got a mischievous look on his face as he continued, “But one time when I was at his place getting his go bag while he was busy in the shooting range, I found a bra in his dresser. It took some time but I finally got an answer out of him and it turns out this has been going on for a few months now.”

“Spencer Reid!” Penelope scolded while leaning over and playfully swatting at his hand. “How could you not tell me? You know I would have run a background check on her to make sure everything checked out!”

“Everyone slow down!” Spencer said, putting his hands up which caused the noise at the table to die down. “She quite literally ran into me at a coffee shop a few months back but I didn’t tell anyone because, well…we aren’t together. It’s just a casual thing.”

“Just casual? Is she okay with that?” JJ asked, quirking an eyebrow up in question. 

“She hasn’t said anything against it,” Spencer replied. He glanced over at you laughing with your friends one more time before shaking his head and asking, “Can we change the subject?”

“Whatever you want, player,” Derek said with a chuckle before the conversation moved on to whatever the latest sports news was, prompted by Derek’s reaction to something happening on one of the many TVs hanging around the room. 

Later that night after you had your fair share of appetizers and drinks, your friends were all starting to head home for the evening. “Thank you for coming, we need to do this again soon!” Celeste told you with a fake stern look before she giggled and leaned over into Maddie’s side. 

“We do!” you agreed as you grabbed your glass to finish off the last bit of your drink. “Get home safe!”

“You too!” Maddie said as she attempted to steady Celeste. “You’re calling a cab right?”

“Of course,” you told her with a nod, raising your glass in a toast as the pair headed off toward the door, following Adrianna outside. 

After finishing off your drink, you stood up, trying to balance as well as you could as you grabbed your clutch off of the table and went to the bar to pay off your tab. You weren’t completely drunk, but you were definitely tipsy and you were naturally clumsy, so nights like this were always an interesting time, especially when you were in heels. When you got to the bar to pay though, you were surprised to be informed that your tab was already paid for. “Who did that?” you asked the bartender, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Adrianna was just about finished with but still in law school and Celeste was a teacher so you could never ask them to pay for your drinks. Maddie was a paralegal and made a good salary but still, you made enough on your own to pay for your drinks, so who…? 

Your question was answered though when you felt a familiar pair of hands glide along your waist and land on your hips. You turned your head the slightest bit and an immediate heat flooded your body as you whispered, “Spencer… Hi. I thought I heard your voice earlier. When did you get back?” Your emotions were conflicted at his sudden appearance because you had overheard him talking with his group of friends earlier and it had honestly upset you, but now that he was practically wrapped around you, your mind flooded with memories of his hands on your body in the most intimate way…

“Just got back this morning. The team met up here to celebrate and I was surprised to see you here,” he replied. His voice lowered and his lips grazed the shell of your ear as he mumbled, “You look irresistible in that dress by the way.”

“I…Thank you,” you breathed, feeling your heart rate increase as his hands massaged your hips. “And thanks for paying for my drinks, you didn’t have to…”

“But I wanted to,” he told you, gently nipping at your ear lobe which made your cunt clench around nothing in desperation for more of his touch. Truth be told, it had been a week since you and Spencer last hooked up and you hated to admit that you had gotten dependent on his touch lately. 

Your impure thoughts were interrupted by a low whistle piercing the air, and your head snapped in the direction it came from, to see two people you recognized from pictures in Spencer’s apartment. They must be from the BAU as well. You made eye contact with the perky looking blonde woman and offered a smile as the man beside her asked, “Pretty boy, why don’t you introduce us to your friend here?” 

“Oh, I-I thought everyone had left,” Spencer said, instantly making space between the two of you. You looked at Spencer’s panicked expression that quickly changed into something more neutral as he introduced you by name and then said to you, “These are two other members of the BAU. Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia.”

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you told them, a smile on your face as you raised your hand in greeting. “Penelope, you’re the tech girl right?” you asked after a few moments of going through your memories of what little Spencer had told you about his job. 

“That’s me! Resident tech genius because boy genius here refuses to get to know technology!” she replied chipperly. 

“Oh trust me, I know,” you said with a giggle, leaning into Spencer’s side as you remembered the last time you two had gotten lonely at the odd hours of night and wanted to video chat each other to get off. Spencer struggled to get the video call to work and it had ended up being muted for a few minutes before you finally got him to unmute himself so you could hear everything his surprisingly filthy mouth had to say to you. 

“Well it’s nice to finally meet the girl who is getting pretty boy out of his shell,” Derek said, flashing you an award winning smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m glad you all are keeping him safe out there in the field,” you replied. 

“All in a day’s work,” Derek said with a chuckle. He checked his watch before exaggeratedly yawning and telling Penelope, “Well baby girl, I think we should get going. Don’t want to hold these two up any longer than we already have. You two have a good one.”

“Thanks Derek,” Spencer mumbled as he watched the pair walk off and out the door. You watched as Spencer’s eyes did another sweep of the bar before his attention was back on you, turning you toward him and pulling you into his front, his hands snaking their way around to your ass and giving a light squeeze as he returned to kissing your ear and neck. 

Your hopeful thoughts from the conversation with Derek and Penelope were instantly abandoned and replaced instead by flashes of your intimate moments with Spencer over the last few months. Your hands drifted upward with one resting on his shoulder and the other lacing into his cropped hair as you let out a quiet moan in Spencer’s ear before asking, “Take me home?”

“God yes,” Spencer whispered, pulling away and turning you around so you were in front of him. To anyone watching it would look like he was simply helping you keep your balance as the alcohol in your system continued to impair your coordination, but only you knew the real reason for the closeness. So as you walked the block to the parking lot, you occasionally let your ass rub against the growing problem in Spencer’s slacks which earned low groans and a squeeze of your hips as you two made your way to Spencer’s car which was tucked away at the back of the lot away from other cars. 

When you got there, Spencer pinned you against the side of his car and his lips were on yours in an instant. After a few seconds, he pulled away for a moment and between panting breaths he asked, “Is this okay? You’ve been drinking, I didn’t want to-”

“You aren’t taking advantage of me,” you promised before he could complete his sentence. “I only had two margaritas and a shot and a ton of food. If you want to breathalyze me, agent, go ahead, but I promise you I’m all here and I’ve missed your hands on me.” As you said this, you carefully hooked one leg around Spencer’s waist and pulled your hips closer together with a smirk gracing your lips. 

“I trust you,” he whispered before your lips crashed together again. You once more laced one hand into his curls and used the other to pull him closer as your tongues began lapping into each other’s mouth, desperation and pure need guiding your actions. Shocks of pleasure began flowing down to your core and you felt light headed as Spencer rutted his hips into yours, seemingly desperate for any sort of friction. The moment that his hard cock brushed against your cunt you let out another moan that was swallowed by Spencer’s mouth before he was moving one of his hands from the grip he had on your ass.

Within seconds you heard the tell-tale sign of the car doors unlocking and Spencer was opening the door for you to get in. Rather than going over to his side to quickly drive to one of your apartments though, he instead pulled at the levers at the base of the passenger seat and began scooting the seat backward and flat, sending you into a near laying position and dizzying your senses. “Spencer, what-?” you asked as you regained your composure after a few moments. 

“I can’t wait,” was his reply before he began tucking himself into the now more open floorboard and pulling your panties down your legs. 

“What about- What if we’re caught-? Your job-!” you managed to get out in clipped sentences. 

“No cameras, no cars near us, it’s fine,” he replied quickly. “I just need to taste you,” he added, his voice almost dark with desire which had your cunt clenching around nothing again as your own desire overtook your anxiety about getting caught.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders and pulled your hips close to his face before you felt the flat of his tongue on you, going from your entrance to your clit before he stopped there and began focusing on your most sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a sinful noise as one hand gravitated toward his hair to hold him close as he began sucking on your clit, not wanting to let go of the feeling. 

After a few breathtaking moments, Spencer pulled away slightly and mumbled, “You’re so wet, fuck…” The vibrations of his voice on your core made a high pitched cry escape your lips and he chuckled before asking, “You like that?”

“God yes,” you replied breathlessly as your chest heaved as the pleasure began to build already in the pit of your stomach. “I missed you,” you found yourself confessing as your hips bucked up to meet his tongue as he returned to his assault of your dripping cunt. Spencer’s only response was to shift and add two fingers to the mix which caused you to cry out his name as he hooked them skillfully, hitting the spot he knew could make you fall apart within seconds if he got it just right. “Oh fuck, right there- Spencer, I- shit…” 

“Come on baby,” he mumbled against you as his long fingers began stroking his target within you, causing the tight coiling feeling in your abdomen to increase more and more. 

It all became too much when Spencer began kitten licking at your clit at the same time and the coil snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing over your body as your orgasm ripped through you. A loud moan slipped past your lips as your grip on his hair tightened and Spencer pulled his fingers out quickly before beginning to lap at your cunt like a man starved, holding down your erratically bucking hips as you slowly began coming down from your high. Overstimulation took over after a few moments and you gently pushed Spencer’s head away as you panted, trying to catch your breath. Spencer obliged, pulling away and wiping his face with the back of his hand before sucking the remnants of you from his fingers as he chuckled. 

You joined in on his laughter after a few seconds and the question that had been on your mind all night slipped past your lips, “Is it casual now?” Knowing it was a loaded question though, you panicked and quickly pulled Spencer up and into a kiss before he could answer. For good measure, you made sure to keep him preoccupied by teasing him as he drove you back to your apartment where he made sure to thoroughly make up for his week away on the case. 

A few weeks had passed and you were out with your girls again to celebrate Adrianna finally graduating law school. It had been a long and arduous journey for her, but she made it! So before she had to buckle down once more to study for the bar exam, the four of you went out to a nice, new Italian restaurant that had opened only a couple of weeks prior. The restaurant had great reviews, and most importantly to Adiranna, an excellent wine list. So the four of you celebrated with delicious pasta, only one glass of wine for you, and began on dessert - a tiramisu that smelled heavenly. 

As the dessert was being brought out by what seemed like half the kitchen staff who were all warmly congratulating Adrianna, your eyes drifted past them when you heard a distinct nickname being called out teasingly from across the restaurant. Pretty boy. You made eye contact with the man in question and like an instinct your heart rate began to increase and heat began to pool down into your core. It was a Pavlovian response at this point, as Spencer had explained to you the first time you brought up the fact that you would get turned on at the mere sight of him, even if it was in no way sexual. You averted your eyes a moment later and bit your lip as you shifted in your seat, thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the tension building in your core. 

“You okay?” Maddie’s voice asked, breaking through the flashes of when Spencer dragged five orgasms out of you that night after the bar. 

“Just a headache, red wine doesn’t really agree with me,” you told in a half-truth. Red wine really wasn’t your forte, but it was what Adrianna wanted so that’s what you had been sipping on slowly throughout the meal. “I think I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a Motrin, I’ll be back. Maybe the lights will be a bit less harsh in there.”

“Maybe so. I’ll make sure to save you some tiramisu,” Maddie said as you stood up and began making your way across the restaurant to where you noticed the restrooms were earlier. You weren’t really going to the restroom to take some medicine or get away from what really wasn’t even that harsh of lighting in the dining area. There was some part of you that hoped that even from across the restaurant Spencer could tell that you needed him and would get the message to meet you in there. 

Of course as you passed the table Spencer was at, it was filled with the rest of the BAU members, most of whose attention was on the man animatedly talking about the wine and pasta selections. You thought you had gone unnoticed until you heard a low wolf whistle before the comment, “Go and get some loving, pretty boy.”

“Shut it!” you heard the distinct voice of Penelope snap as you kept your head down and made your way to your destination. 

Right as your hand reached up to push the restroom door open, you looked back to see if Spencer had followed you like you hoped, and to your body’s joy he did. Glancing at his lips as he wet them with his tongue, you felt the dampness in your underwear growing as your breathing began to pick up its pace along with your heart. “Hey,” you said simply. 

“Did you want to-?” was all Spencer asked before you nodded vigorously which earned you his lips as he gently pushed you into the single person restroom before locking the door. Spencer’s hands were on you in an instant, one diving into the low v-cut of your dress and beginning to massage your breast, thumb flicking over your already hard nipple as you moaned into his mouth. “If I knew you would have been here I may have dressed a bit nicer,” Spencer commented as he moved from kissing your lips to your neck, your hands desperately roaming his frame as he explored yours. 

“You always look amazing,” you told him earnestly as he hiked you up onto the sink’s counter space and pulled the strap of your dress down your shoulder so he would have better access to your chest. “Oh, God, Spencer…” you whispered as he took your sensitive bud into his mouth and began sucking. It wasn’t long before he moved on from the nipple to the surrounding skin and started to bite and suck which you desperately hoped would leave a mark. You loved it when he marked you because it made things feel more permanent, even if just for a few days.

Before you knew it, your legs were being nudged apart and Spencer’s fingers were teasing your entrance as he asked, “Are you ready?”

“Please,” you begged. The sound was breathy and high-pitched, but you didn’t care much about how desperate you sounded because you knew the sounds you made drove Spencer crazy. 

“Turn around,” he said in a low voice as he helped you jump off of the counter. You didn’t even get the opportunity to tease Spencer or spread his own arousal over his head before you were being bent over the counter with your panties pushed aside as he quickly shoved into your throbbing core. Your moan was muffled as Spencer’s large hand came around and covered your mouth and he gritted out, “We don’t have long.”

You whimpered into Spencer’s hand as he pounded into you from behind, your exposed breast occasionally grazing against the cold countertop causing the most delicious mix of pleasure to course through your body. He always felt so big from behind and tonight was no exception, but the rate and rhythm that he was going at had the coil in your core building quickly. “Spencer, oh, fuck! I-”

“I’m close too,” was Spencer’s grunted out response as the grip he had on your hip tightened as his thrusts began to get sloppy. You don’t know if it was because of the prospect of getting caught, or what, but after a few more thrusts, Spencer was already losing it, whispering, “Baby, I- Shit, shit, shit! I’m coming, fuck-” 

You felt his hot release filling you up and you let out a moan in response, so close to your own peak, but instead of continuing his ministrations like he normally would, Spencer pulled out and began cleaning himself up. You stood there speechless for a moment, still bent over the counter with your heart racing and chest heaving as you recovered from your almost orgasm. Spencer had never left you hanging like that. Maybe to edge you to try and get your body to do what it still hadn’t managed to, but never to deny you an orgasm. 

Spencer approached you from behind once more and recovered your core with your underwear before beginning to straighten up your dress to help you look presentable. He turned you around and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before chuckling and telling you, “I think you may want to fix your makeup a bit.”

“I-I will,” you quietly agreed with a nod, watching as he ducked his head and left you in the bathroom alone, hot, bothered, and honestly a bit pissed off. You quickly relocked the door and went to the restroom, trying to rid your underwear and body of the traces he left behind with his abrupt finish. After cleaning up, you went to work fixing your makeup as best you could and hoped that with all of the wine in their system your friends wouldn’t notice that it was slightly less perfect than when the night began. 

As you quietly made your way out of the restroom, you froze when you heard Derek’s voice coming from around the corner as he asked, “That love toy of yours treating you well?” 

Your blood ran cold as Spencer responded, “Oh, I- uh- Yeah. She is.”

“My man!” Derek said with a bright laugh before the conversation was prompted to return to non-sexual topics by someone else at the table. 

You felt your shoulders slump as your eyes casted themselves down to the floor and you just wanted a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. A sense of dread began to fill your body and your head began to feel heavy as your anxiety started to climb. Trying to breathe through the dizzying feeling, you kept your eyes down as you made your way past the table Spencer was sat at. When you reached your friends, you offered a small smile before telling them, “The headache is just getting worse, I think I need to get going. I’m sorry to be a downer…”

“Hey it’s okay! Get to feeling better!” Maddie told you, offering a smile to try and comfort you. 

“Thanks,” you said as you reached into your small purse and pulled out a few bills that should more than cover your fair share of the meal. “Congrats again, Adri. You earned it!” you told her with a fake chipperness in your voice that you hoped was convincing. 

Once that exchange was over, you quickly made your way out of the restaurant and into the cool night air, trying to convince your lungs to take deep breaths before a full blown panic attack set in. You should have known that all of this with Spencer was too good to be true. You should have known that he just wanted you for sex and nothing more. 

Even though you know you shouldn’t have, after that night meeting Derek and Penelope, you had let your mind wander just a bit and had imagined a little life with Spencer. An apartment smack between both of your jobs, going to the movies together, reading in silence on the couch, maybe even him showing you off at some team party after they closed a particularly hard case. But clearly none of that was in the cards for him… It was just a fantasy you had built in your head.

How did you let this drag on for so long? You pride yourself on being a strong and independent person and for the longest time had sworn off dating after the last disaster that had ruined your life. Yet here you were letting Spencer come crashing into your life, upturning everything you had built for yourself. A searing hatred started to rise in your chest, but it wasn’t directed toward Spencer. It was for yourself.

Your thoughts were interrupted though when a gentle hand was placed on your upper arm to get your attention. Just turning to look at Spencer made you dizzy once again and you braced yourself against the building to keep from falling. “Are you okay?” Spencer asked. “You’re still on the pill right? I didn’t even think about asking, I-”

“Yes I’m still on the stupid pill,” you choked out through your tight throat that felt like it was threatening to close up any moment. 

“Then what’s-?” he tried but you interrupted him. 

“I just thought you thought of me better than a ‘love toy…’” you whispered, the sound barely audible. 

Spencer reached for your hand and squeezed it gently which made your heart soar, but it came crashing down once again when he softly reminded you, “No attachments, remember?”

Panic reared its ugly head again as that dreadful feeling threatened to overwhelm you. So before you could break down in front of Spencer in front of the restaurant, you jerked your hand away and sharply told him, “You can go to Hell, Spencer Reid…” 

a/n: phew, that was... something! i think i need to go touch some grass... anyways, when i was plotting this, i couldn't help but think of another song that ended up causing their backstory, so i'm going to start writing a part two to this called 'butterfly effect' because i don't like unhappy endings. i hope to see you there! likes and comments are always appreciated!

xo, brooke :)

part two - butterfly effect

butterfly effect - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

part two of Casual

Spencer and Reader's first meeting is revealed along with how both are feeling in the aftermath of the restaurant debacle in part one.

word count: ~6.4k

content: 18+ minors DNI! language, angst! fluff (oh the fluff in this one is sickly sweet - i told y'all i don't like unhappy endings)! smut (i simply could not help myself because i've had this one line stuck in my head for weeks and it just so happened to transition very well in this piece i'm not sorry): oral [male receiving], unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms mentioned.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

now playing: butterfly effect by Sophie Holohan also a hint of vulnerable by Leanna Firestone <3

Then…

You watched as drops of condensation raced down the side of your iced coffee cup, lost in your own thoughts as you ignored the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk to your left. It was a sunny morning on your day off and you were at your favorite local coffee shop, trying to ignore your work responsibilities for as long as possible. You were doodling in the rustic looking parchment journal you had found at a thrift store when you went shopping with Celeste and Maddie yesterday, and you had become enthralled with butterflies once more. 

You had a hyperfixation on the beautiful creatures when you were younger and in some circles were ashamed to admit how much you knew about them. They were just so fascinating and beautiful, how could you not adore them? You knew that this cafe’s outdoor seating area was teeming with them during April due to their migratory pattern as well as all of the plant life they had blooming within all of the scattered pots seated throughout the patio, so it was the perfect time for catching glimpses of the creatures you had lost touch with for many years. 

A beautiful one with black and white coloring and long trailing wings fluttered by and you quickly snatched your cup and journal up as you went to follow the beautiful creature. If your memory served you right it was a Zebra Swallowtail, one you hadn’t seen since your childhood, and you were determined to capture its beauty in your new journal. 

Your journey following the butterfly was short-lived though, when as you quickly exited the patio’s gate you ran smack into someone! You felt your condensation coated cup leave your grip as it was crushed between your body and the stranger’s and your eyes went wide as the drink spilled down their front, completely soaking through the button up they were wearing. And to add insult to injury, the manilla folder that had been in their hands was now absorbing the liquid on the ground. 

With your now empty hand flying to cover your mouth, you began profusely apologizing, saying, “Oh my gosh I am so, so, so, so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going! You see, I saw this really pretty butterfly that I wanted to sketch and I didn’t want it to get away but now it has and I completely ruined your shirt and your file and you were probably on your way to work and now you’re going to be late because of me and smell like coffee the rest of the day and oh my gosh I am so sorry I am mortified right now!” By the end of your rambled on apology you had covered your face with your journal, afraid to look up at the person you had run into, especially after such a rambling and childish apology…

What surprised you was the person letting out a soft laugh in response to your rambling before telling you, “If you were going after something in the name of science I can’t exactly fault you for running into me. I likely would have done the same.” 

“You- What…?” you asked, risking a peek over the top of your journal, only to see the smiling face of a boyishly handsome man around your age with cropped and almost curly hair that fell slightly over his eyes. He was gorgeous. His melodic laugh rang out once more and it prompted you to lower the journal to your side fully, risking a glance at the damage your drink did. 

You cringed as you looked at his once pristine and pressed shirt, but your anxious thoughts were interrupted by him telling you, “You were going after a butterfly that you wanted to make an observation of in its habitat. As a man of science I can’t fault you for doing so.” He bent over to pick up his now thoroughly soaked file and offered a small smile as he came back up and added, “I’m Spencer by the way. I don’t exactly follow the science of lepidopterology, but it’s a fascinating subject. Do you study them for a living?”

You offered your name in turn before saying, “Oh, uh, no I- It’s just a sort of hyperfixation I’ve had on and off since I was a kid,” You felt an intense blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks after the admission crossed your lips and you wished that the earth would open up beneath you and save you from yourself. Instead of just keeping your mouth shut though, you rambled on, “And now it’s probably ruined your day and routine and again I am so sorry! Were you heading in? I could buy your drink! It’s the least I can do after ruining…everything.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, I’m getting drinks for more than just me,” Spencer replied as he began opening his satchel bag and pulling out a sweater vest which he put on and covered the coffee stain on his front. “See, good as new. I have a change of clothes at the office anyway. Don’t worry about the shirt.” He waved the folder to get the droplets of coffee off and added, “And don’t worry about the file either. I have it memorized. Eidetic memory. Comes in handy for times like this.”

“Right…” you said, making a mental note to look up what that meant rather than assuming. You nodded awkwardly before gesturing toward the door and heading that way, telling him, “Well I’m gonna head back inside to get a drink to replace the one I dropped. We can at least discuss how I could repay you while we wait?”

“If you insist,” Spencer said before following your lead into the small shop, the little bell above the door ringing out to alert the workers that someone had entered. 

As you waited in line, you cleared your throat and asked awkwardly, “So, uh…what do you do for work?”

“I work for the FBI at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We basically use what’s called profiling to determine why people do what they do, specifically in the realm of killing people,” he told you as if it was a regular old nine to five and not what sounded like the most interesting job in the world. 

“I- Wow! That sounds so cool!” you stuttered out awkwardly. You mentally kicked yourself at the stupid reply, but before you could rectify the situation it was Spencer’s turn to order. You breathed a sigh of relief at the out and began scouring your brain for ways you could repay Spencer for the mishap outside. 

Once you ordered your replacement drink, you cleared your throat and shyly asked Spencer, “How about as an apology I take you to dinner? You choose where. I just feel really, really bad about spilling my drink on you…”

Spencer was silent for a beat before telling you, “I would like that. Thank you.” So before you two parted ways, Spencer wrote his number in your journal beside another butterfly you had been sketching and you sent him off with a warm smile while what felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies flew around in the pit of your stomach. 

Your dinner with Spencer got delayed when the BAU was requested to work a case in Oregon, but you were fine with that as it gave you more time to grapple with the fact that, no, this wasn’t a date. This was simply a business transaction because you had ruined the man’s clothes and case file. 

When Spencer returned after closing the case, you were finally ready to face the gorgeous man in what you hoped would be a platonic business-like way. That was until you saw his face again and heard his what turned out to be contagious laugh. He told you all kinds of fun facts about butterflies he had learned in preparation to have something to talk with you about and you practically had heart eyes as you listened to him ramble on and on about stuff even you didn’t know about the beautiful creatures. 

The spark you thought was there turned out to be mutual and by the end of the night, Spencer was back to your apartment and between your legs, sending you into the most blissful state you had been in in years. As you learned during your dinner, Spencer had a vast understanding of the human body and mind and it turned out that those skills translated to the bedroom as well. Needless to say, he had completely exhausted you and you fell asleep in his arms under your duvet, your legs entangled as you clung onto him like a koala. 

Waking up the morning after your dinner, Spencer began to come to his senses as he smelled bacon and pancakes being cooked and coffee lingering in the air of your apartment. At first he relaxed into the plush memory foam once more before he sat up with a start. What was he doing? He knew from current and former BAU members’ experiences, relationships while working for the unit were hard. The hours were odd and long, the mental toll of cases could be heavy at best and all consuming at most, and statistically the odds of someone in a relationship with an FBI agent - specifically a member of the BAU - becoming a target of a pissed off unsub was high. What if an unsub took you as a hostage in order to get to him? What if an unsub killed you as some cruel form of punishment for going after them? That wasn’t something he was willing to shoulder onto you, he thought as a shudder shook his whole body. 

But there was no way he wanted to let you go from his life altogether, so when he emerged into the combined dining and kitchen area to see you cooking in just a t-shirt and underwear, Spencer cleared his throat and greeted you with a good morning before asking tentatively, “Hey uh… I was just thinking… With my job with the BAU being what it is, could we…would you mind if we kept this casual? I had an amazing time with you at dinner and in…other places, but it’s historically difficult for an FBI agent to maintain a proper relationship and give their partner the attention they deserve while also giving cases the attention they need. Would…would that be something you would be okay with?” 

Spencer studied your body language as you concentrated on flipping the pancakes in front of you, doing so effortlessly as you nonchalantly replied, “If that’s what is easiest then yeah. I had a really good time last night too.” Relief flooded Spencer’s body at your response and he relaxed into the dining chair a bit more before standing up to pour himself some coffee and prepare it how he liked, content with the new arrangement he found himself in with the gorgeous and thoughtful woman in front of him. 

So that’s how it went on for the following months. Between Spencer’s cases and your shifts at work, the two of you managed to see each other more and more. Sometimes the evenings started at restaurants and some were initiated at either of your apartments when you were feeling particularly needy. 

Even though at first you were truly content with keeping things with Spencer casual, as time went on, you had started to develop feelings for the man. Feelings that sex alone couldn’t tame and that’s when you realized what you knew all along. That those butterflies you felt in your stomach during your first encounter were never a good sign. 

Now…

A knock on your apartment door broke you from your trance of zoning out whatever was playing on Netflix at the moment and you looked up at the clock hanging on the wall to realize it was nearly three o’clock. You had spent most of your day off zoned out in front of the TV lost in your own thoughts when you were supposed to go to lunch with Celeste hours ago. Looking at your phone you noticed all the missed calls and texts and rubbed your tired eyes as you groaned in frustration. 

The knock sounded once again before you heard Celeste’s voice calling out, “Are you in there? Do I need to call the cops for a welfare check?”

You attempted to smooth down your pjs before opening the door and telling her quietly, “No, I’m here. I’m sorry I flaked on lunch I didn’t mean to I just-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Celeste was wrapping you in a hug to end all hugs and asking softly, “What’s wrong?”

This simple question was always your downfall because the second that it was asked the floodgates opened and you began sobbing into Celeste’s shoulder. All of the tears you had denied yourself over the last week and a half finally began to freefall as you clung to your friend like she was a buoy out at sea and she was the only thing keeping you afloat. 

Celeste managed to maneuver the two of you back into the apartment and closed the door as you began rambling through your tight and broken voice, “At the restaurant…when we celebrated Adri…Spencer was there. We…we had sex in the bathroom but then he just finished and left me hanging. No explanation. Then I overheard his coworker call me Spencer’s love toy. He…he didn’t shut down the comment. I just thought I meant more to him than that… So I panicked and left. Almost had a panic attack outside when he came to talk with me. I thought he was going to comfort me but then he just reminded me, ‘no attachments.’” This whole spiel took you the greater part of five minutes to get out between sobs and trying to catch your breath, but Celeste being patient as always gave you her attention the whole time. You took a final deep breath before finishing with, “I really, really like him Celeste… I was a fool to think I meant more to him.”

Celeste thought on your words for the few moments it took to lead you toward the couch. She sat down and brought your head to rest on her thigh, gently detangling your hair with her fingers as she said, “I’m sorry that he made you feel that way. And I’m sorry we didn’t notice something was wrong before now. We’re your friends, we should be there for you through stuff like this.”

“It’s nothing you did,” you quickly told her. “Work kept me occupied this week so I tried to just ignore everything but then today I guess it all caught up to me…” Celeste nodded and you relaxed as she continued to mess with your hair. 

Her silence was broken when she finally said, “Not to play Devil’s advocate, because what he did was not okay, but have you thought about why he came out to check on you when you left?”

This question caused you to furrow your eyebrows together and think about it. Why did he come outside? None of the other BAU members were leaving. It was just him… You cleared your throat and admitted, “I uh… I didn’t think about that.” There was a beat of silence before you told her, “I haven’t told you guys much about his job besides that he works for the FBI, but he’s what they call a profiler. He can tell a lot about a person just by reading their body language. Maybe…”

When you trailed off, leaving your sentence unfinished, Celeste offered, “Maybe he knew you were upset from your body language so he came to comfort you?”

You thought about it for a second before telling her, “I mean maybe, but that wouldn’t explain-” Your sentence died in your throat as another knock sounded through the apartment. “Did you text Maddie or Adri?” you asked Celeste. 

“No,” Celeste replied as you began pulling yourself into a sitting position. “I’ll see who it is.”

As she did you started to realize how dehydrated you were, so you slowly made your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As you stood, a dizzying feeling filled your head and darkness lined your peripheral vision, but you tried to ignore it as you made your way to the fridge. You vaguely heard the exchange happening at your door, but your attention was caught when Celeste called your name to get your attention. Looking up from your glass and Brita, you saw Spencer in your doorway with a bouquet of flowers and your heart gave an irregular stutter in your chest. “He says he wants to talk to you. Is that okay?” Celeste asked and you could hear the protective nature in her voice that Spencer was no doubt picking up on too. 

“Y-yeah,” you replied, nodding in case she couldn’t hear you across the room. 

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, eyeing Spencer’s tall form almost suspiciously as she did. 

“I think I’ll be okay,” you told her, offering her a small smile. “Thank you for coming to check on me. I’ll make lunch up to you next weekend.” Celeste nodded hesitantly before grabbing her purse off of the floor where she had dropped it and began making her way out. You were sure she would stay idled in the parking lot of the complex until you texted her that everything was okay, so you made a mental note to do so after this was over. Whatever this was. 

Taking a deep breath, you offered a quiet, “Hi,” to Spencer as he approached your dining area with the rather large bouquet in hand. That couldn’t have been cheap. 

“Hey,” he said, almost as quietly as you did. He cleared his throat and said, “I…I wanted to apologize for what happened last time we saw each other.” 

Nodding, you quickly wiped a stray tear away as you told him, “I was really hurt, Spencer.”

“I know that now. So that’s why I brought you these,” he reiterated as he offered the flowers out to you. “In flower language the white roses symbolize my remorse for what happened, my seeking of forgiveness, and my hope for a new beginning between the two of us. The pink hyacinths represent new love and fresh starts. The white hyacinths represent my wish for healing between us. And the pink tulips represent my asking for forgiveness and the sincerity behind my words.” You tentatively accepted the flowers and took a moment to breathe in their natural fragrance with closed eyes as Spencer rambled on, “Did you know that floriography has been practiced for thousands of years and was even used in theatrical works, most notably Shakespeare? A lot of people take for granted what the flowers they’re giving mean, but the meaning behind each one can offer you a great deal of insight into the mind of the giver.”

You tried to hide the small smile teasing your lips in response to Spencer’s ramblings which you always found endearing by searching your cabinets for a vase to put them in. With your back turned toward him, you cleared your throat and quietly told him, “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just…” you pulled out a vase and let out a heavy sigh as you brought it to the sink to rinse out and fill with fresh water. “Fucking me in the restroom and just leaving before I got off without an explanation hurt. Hearing what Derek said, calling me your ‘love toy’ and you agreeing to it really hurt. I… I know you said no attachments, but… I’ve spent so much time with you and got to know you and I realized that I can’t do this whole casual thing anymore…” By the time you finished your statement, you had opened the flower food and put it into the water and hugged your arms to your body as you tried to make yourself smaller amidst the palpable tension in the room. 

“I could tell by your body language as you left the restaurant that something was wrong but I didn’t know what but I followed you out regardless because I knew something was wrong and wanted to try and fix it…” Spencer admitted. So Celeste was right about that… You didn’t have time to think about that though as Spencer continued, telling you, “I really messed up by leaving you in there after what I did, and it took me a while to realize what I did wrong because… Gosh now I really sound like an ass saying it out loud.” He scratched the back of his neck as he said, “I had calculated the longest average time an adult male takes in the restroom and was limiting myself to that time limit as we…did what we did in there. I knew that most of the team had seen you pass by and so I didn’t want them to think we were having sex in a restroom of all places. Not that I am ashamed to be with you at all, with you I’ve had the best few months of my life I think, but there are some aspects of my life I would like to keep private from them.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, unable to help the huff of a laugh that escaped your lips at the admission. What a truly Spencer reason to leave you hot and bothered. The bit about ‘the best few months of his life’ made your heart soar once again as you finally looked up to make eye contact with him. 

A smile broke out onto his lips when his eyes met yours and he slowly approached you as he rambled on, saying, “And about the whole response to what Derek said. I panicked. He’s usually the one who has all the girls and is some sort of expert love maker or something, and I’m way less experienced than that. So when he brought it up I didn’t know how to respond so I guess I just blurted out what would make me look cool to him. Which I realized was a mistake far too long after, when the team sort of had to give me a reality check…”

Just the next morning after the restaurant incident left Spencer reeling, trying to make sense of what happened between the two of you, the BAU was called out on a case. After the first two days on the case, JJ approached Spencer as they were packing up for the day and asked, “Spence, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I-” he tried to say but couldn’t finish as Emily too approached him while putting her hand up and shaking her head. 

“You’ve been moody. You don’t get moody for no reason,” she argued. 

“I’m not moody,” Spencer defended himself. 

“Yes you are, you’ve been off since that night at the Italian place. What happened?” JJ asked. By then more of the team had started to gather around and he noticed that even some of the locals had poked their heads up from their work to listen to what was now looking like an intervention. 

Spencer sighed and threw his hands up exasperatedly as he said, “Fine! You wanna know why I’ve been in a bad mood? It’s because she told me to go to Hell and since then I just…I haven’t been able to concentrate. She’s on my mind all the time and I’ve just been trying to figure out what I did wrong so I can fix it!”

“Oh so it’s a lovers spa-” Derek started to say.

“Don’t you go making more comments,” Spencer snapped, which made Derek freeze, the smile melting off of his mouth. “Your ‘love toy’ comment is one of the things that set her off. I know that for sure.”

“Okay so we know that. What else happened?” JJ asked as she took a seat in a chair nearby, seemingly fully concentrated on the conversation now. 

“I, uh…” Spencer faltered, feeling awkward about being open about his sex life in front of so many people seeing as how Hotch and Rossi had wandered into the space too. He felt heat creeping up into his cheeks as he blurted out, “We had sex in the bathroom and I had calculated how long I had before you guys got suspicious about what was happening so by the time that limit rolled around I had finished but didn’t have time to get her there but I still left because I didn’t want any of you to know what was going on.”

The response reminded him of the time they all found out you existed in the first place and he struggled to hear all of the comments. “Spencer Reid, you did what?!” came from Penelope. Emily groaned in frustration as she said, “We already all knew what was happening in that restroom!” One of the locals chimed in with, “Oh come on man, you can’t just leave her hanging like that!” “Yeah, you messed up big time,” was JJ’s snide remark as she leaned her head back and rolled her eyes. 

The chaotic chorus was interrupted by David clearing his throat to get the room’s attention. When the focus was on him, he wisely pointed out, “I think we can all agree that seeking forgiveness is what you need to do here. Do it right when we get back from the case.” The older man patted Spencer on the shoulder before continuing with, “Life isn’t going to slow down or wait for an ideal opportunity to make things right. If you really want things with this girl to work out, then you’re going to have to accept that there may be obstacles in the way and hurdles you both need to jump over. You have a village behind you, kid. A village that is willing to go to bat to protect both you and those you love. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. The unknown shouldn’t be the reason you hold yourself back from what you really want. So go after her.”

Spencer’s large hands gently took yours into his and when you didn’t deny the touch, he squeezed them and told you, “You aren’t just an object or ‘love toy’ to me. I promise you that.” He took a shaking breath and you looked up to see tears rimming his eyes as he said, “I was just so scared of something happening to you because of my job that I denied my feelings for you. I have been targeted and taken by unsubs before, Hotch’s ex wife who was in witsec was tracked and killed, JJ’s family was targeted just a few weeks after we met… I didn’t want any of those things to happen to you. But I also didn’t want to lose you from my life so I made a deal with myself that we would keep things casual, but I never followed up after that first morning if that was okay with you…”

Tears began welling up in your eyes in response to his words. You knew that he said the job was tough on relationships, but you never thought too into what he was protecting you from… It showed that he truly cared in your eyes. That he had thought this through. 

You were too stunned to speak and the dizzy feeling returned in response to all of the new information. Seeming to notice this, he guided you to the couch in your sitting area and asked, “I trust you know what the butterfly effect is?”

“I do,” you confirmed, curious as to where this was going. 

“Well sometimes I get to thinking and I wonder what the probability of us meeting would have been if that butterfly hadn’t made you spill your drink on me. Think of it as an actualization of the theory. I calculated that the odds would have been slim to none considering how far off our lines of work are from each other and it makes me sad to think that in virtually every other reality we never met. Because you’ve changed my life. And yes, the sex is great, but so is the conversation! You are always so genuinely interested in what I have to say and it’s so refreshing because a lot of the people I’m close to have gotten tired of my ramblings over the years. I didn’t realize until I didn’t have you in my life anymore that I wanted to come home early from cases to be with you, and not just intimately. I wanted to come home to you in my apartment - what would be our apartment. To bring you flowers and your favorite chocolates. To cook dinner with you and watch your favorite movies. To show you my favorite books and read yours in return! I’m usually one to look at the statistics and facts of it all, but just this once I would like to believe that the butterfly effect is real and that it brought us together.”

“Spencer, I-” you started, but stopped as a quiet sob left your mouth and you covered it with your hand. When you regained your composure, you nodded and told him, “I want that too. So much. I want to come home to you reading impossibly fast through my entire book collection. I want to take trips to bookstores together. I want to make your favorite meal when you get home from a case no matter what time of day it is. I want to properly meet your teammates from the BAU. I want it all. Because I-” you stopped your rambling once more before too much came out. 

You didn’t have to worry about it though, because Spencer took the words right out of your mouth as he said, “I love you.”

You felt weightless in response to his confession and you felt the biggest smile break out onto your face before you whispered back, “I love you too.” 

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked as he leaned his forehead on yours. 

“Always,” you replied, the smile on your lips evident in your voice. 

The kiss was the most gentle one Spencer had ever given you and you felt your heart soar and a kaleidoscope of butterflies explode in your stomach once more, reminding you of the day you met. And this time you were sure that Spencer wouldn’t let your soaring heart fall. 

After a few moments though, gone was the gentle kiss that brought you two back together. Soon the kiss was filled with need and desire as you finally noticed the reaction that your body had been having to the man who was now under your hips as you straddled him. Desire once more guided your actions as you moved your hips on Spencer’s, feeling his arousal starting to grow as you lapped into each others’ mouth. 

A low and muffled groan left Spencer’s mouth as he moved his hands to rest on your ass and began massaging in time with the sway of your hips. At the same time as you began to ask, “Can I-?” Spencer was whispering, “I need-” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth before you began moving off of him and down onto the floor between his spread legs, saying, “I take it we’re on the same page then?”

“Yes,” was his instant response as his lust filled eyes looked down at you on your knees between his legs, your hands gliding up his thighs and to his belt buckle. After getting the belt undone you of course took a moment to tease his stiff member, earning a small buck of his hips and a beg of, “Please,” almost whimpered from his lips. 

“How can I no to that?” you asked with a small smile on your lips as you began to unbutton and unzip Spencer’s slacks. When you pulled his slacks and underwear down in one fell swoop, you smiled up at Spencer as you asked, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

“A-a few times. Shit-” he moaned out as you began teasing his head with your tongue, focusing on the spot on the underside just below the head that you knew drove him crazy. When you took him into your mouth fully, one of Spencer’s hands flew right into your hair, lightly tugging as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could. 

You bobbed up and down a few times before hollowing out your cheeks around him and as you did, the grip he had on your hair tightened and you let out a low moan in the back of your throat at the feeling. Spencer’s response was instant, letting out a loud moan into the otherwise quiet room that sounded somewhat like your name. Within seconds though, he was tapping at your temple and whispering, “W-wait. Stop.”

You instantly stopped what you were doing, feeling your heart clench at the words. Wiping the excess spit from your chin, you said quietly, “I-I’m sorry did I do something-?”

“No, no, no you didn’t do anything wrong, I just…” Spencer said as his chest heaved. “I want to do this the right way. I want to make love to you.” 

Your mouth opened slightly in response to the words as you sat back on the floor, shocked at the implication. Before you could come up with a response, Spencer was pulling you up from the floor and coaxing your oversized t-shirt off, revealing that you had not been wearing a bra this whole time which made him groan as he began toying with your now fully exposed breast. He began kissing you once more and a whimper escaped your mouth as he began toying with your hard nipple and you began pushing at his vest and button up, silently telling him to get rid of them. 

During all of this, the two of you began fumbling toward your bedroom, dropping clothes as you went and leaving a trail from the couch to your bed. When the backs of your knees met the edge of the bed, Spencer collapsed on top of you which ended up with you in a fit of giggles as he rolled both you and himself over to be in the bed properly. When you were comfortably on the pillow, you teasingly asked, “So what does love making entail, Doctor?”

“Something more gentle than I usually give you,” he replied as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Something more meaningful,” he added as he pushed in slowly. 

The stretch around Spencer was something you needed a moment to adjust to and he gave you time to do so as he buried his face into your neck and let out what sounded like a relieved sigh. This was already a change of pace. Usually the two of you were so needy, he never gave you time to adjust to his size and you always took the sting in stride with the pounding he usually gave you, but this…this was different. It felt new. It was gentle. 

Wrapping your legs around Spencer’s waist, you sighed contentedly before whispering, “You can move.”

And so he did, starting off with small thrusts that you were sure he was doing so he didn’t lose it right then and there after the oral you had just given him before you started. But then they transitioned into long and languid strokes, almost completely pulling out from you before slowly pushing back in. At one point Spencer grabbed a small throw pillow you had on the bed and lifted your hips to place it under them and from that moment you knew you were a goner. The angle made it easier for him to hit that spongy spot within your walls and you let out an almost pornographic moan when he did. Over and over again. 

“You sound so beautiful,” Spencer grunted out which made you open your eyes to look up at him. You were met with his smile as he reiterated, “You are so beautiful.”

The compliment had your body reeling and you felt the coil in your abdomen tightening as he continued to brush over that spot within you. “Spencer, I-” your words were cut off by a moan when he brought the hand now not supporting his body weight to your clit and began rubbing gentle circles on it. Your breathing began to become labored as the pleasure continued to mount until it was almost too much. “I’m close,” you told him, feeling your core starting to twitch around him as he filled you up so well. 

“Me too, sweet girl,” Spencer panted out, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. 

As cheesy as it is to say, the tender moment was what broke you. A litany of pleasure filled sounds escaped your mouth that were swallowed by Spencer’s as he picked up his pace just the slightest bit as you began contracting around him, your orgasm ripping through your body in the most intense way possible. Spencer followed behind you quickly, burying his head into your neck once more as he moaned out his pleasure between sloppy kisses placed on your throat. 

Spencer collapsed slightly on top of you, slightly to the side as he slipped out of you, some of his release following suit as you both breathed heavily in the aftermath of what you would deem the most pleasurable sex you had ever had. With hands wandering in mindless shapes over your body, Spencer mumbled into your skin, “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“I love you too,” you told him with a smile on your lips. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. 

A few minutes passed of just basking in each other’s warm embrace before Spencer raised his head and kissed your lips, telling you, “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m thinking that after we shower I can take you to dinner? On a proper date?” 

“I would love that,” you replied as he helped you off the bed and into the shower. 

That night after dinner Spencer outdid himself with the love making, somehow managing to drag three more orgasms out of you, each more intense than the last. As you laid there in bed that night with Spencer’s arm draped over you, you silently thanked the world for sending that butterfly into your path that fateful morning.

a/n: thank you all so much for the outpouring of love on Casual! i really hope this lived up to expectations that may have been built after the first part! Derek still hasn't been redeemed and Reader still hasn't properly met the BAU team (especially Rossi who was honestly the MVP here), so i'm thinking we'll see each other again in a potential part three? ;)

part three: Right Person, Right Time

taglist: @spicyspirit @misserabella @lillianacristina @lullvu

those who didn't ask to be tagged but y'all were so kind in the comments so i will anyways to make sure you see this post <3 (apologizes if i am overstepping by tagging)

@lilrios-world @theylovemelody @lea24sposts @espressoparis @crazy4books1 @i-live-in-spite @mega-kittyglitter-1 @rumplereids

Right Person, Right Time - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

part three of mini series: Casual, butterfly effect

There is a BAU celebration at David's house and Spencer invites you as his plus one so you can formally meet the team.

word count: ~2.1k

content: fluff! sickly sweet fluff i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

now playing: Right Person, Right Time by Leanna Firestone <3

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asked, leaning down a bit to kiss the bare part of your neck that he could access at the moment. Spencer practically wrapped himself around you from behind after helping you out of the car before the two of you were to head up the drive to the mansion of a home in front of you and it helped you relax a bit, but you guessed that he could still sense something off in your behavior. 

“I’m just nervous is all…” you replied, busying your hands by messing with the clasp of the clutch you had chosen to match your dress for the night. 

“What’s making you nervous?” he asked, voice just as soft as the hold he had on your waist. 

“Meeting your coworkers…” you admitted in a sort of hushed whisper as you tried to control your building anxiety toward the impending moment you were to cross the threshold of the home and formally meet the BAU team. “Their first impression of me wasn’t exactly my best moment and I’m just scared that they’ll judge me for it…”

“I assure you they won’t, they’re actually really excited to meet you,” Spencer said as he pulled your body closer to his. “But if you ever feel uncomfortable at all tonight, just tell me and we’ll head home, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head as a small smile made its way onto your lips. 

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked as he slowly unfurled himself from around your body. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers in his as the two of you approached the door. 

When you got to the door and Spencer rang the bell, your nerves began to rise and you felt your heart begin to pound wildly in your chest, feeling like it was threatening to escape its cage at any moment. The door opened to reveal a jovial looking Italian man who greeted the both of you cheerfully, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks as if he had known you since you were a little girl. The gesture put a smile on your face and you began to feel less nervous as you offered him a gift bag you had brought that contained a bottle of fine wine that Maddie assured you would impress him. 

He took the bottle out from the bag and examined it, a smile on his face as he said, “Ciacci Piccolomini d'Aragona, a fine choice young lady! I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a bottle of this! Thank you!”

“Of course, thank you for opening up your home to us,” you told him graciously, your gaze darting around the beautiful home as he guided you and Spencer into the area where the rest of the BAU members were milling about chatting amongst themselves. 

When the three of you emerged into the area, eyes were instantly on you and they weighed heavily, causing your own to dart down to the floor as your grip on Spencer’s hand tightened. Your heart thudded hard in your ears, so much so that you barely heard Spencer announce, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.” You looked up to him for a sense of comfort and you got it as he told the team your name in one of the fondest tones you had ever heard him speak in before planting a kiss on your forehead to seal the deal even further. 

Your nerves began to decrease further as each member of the team in turn came to introduce themself warmly, without an ounce of judgment in their eyes or voice as they did. The only exception to your lessening anxiety was when Derek finally approached you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read because you once again averted your eyes as he approached you. They finally looked back up toward his face when he gently said your name and in the most sincere and remorseful voice told you, “I’m sorry for coming off as rude the first few times we encountered each other.” His tone turned into more of a teasing one as he gently punched Spencer’s arm and added, “It’s no excuse on my part, but I was just happy that pretty boy here was getting some!” His tone returned to seriousness as he addressed you again, saying, “It was uncalled for though, and I’m sorry for how it made you feel. I hope you can forgive me.”

Before you could respond, Penelope joined in on the conversation, chipperly saying, “Oh look at you being all sweet and apologizing!” She leaned closer to you and said in an almost conspiratory voice, “I was rooting for you the whole time! Call it friend intuition or what have you, but from the moment I saw you two together at the bar I knew things would work out!”

You let out a quiet laugh at her words and leaned into Spencer’s embrace as you told the pair, “Thank you. I’m happy things worked out as well as they did.”

Before the conversation could go any further, your lovely host reemerged into the area and clapped his hands together as he announced, “All right, I hope everyone is hungry! Tonight is carbonara a la Rossi paired with a beautiful wine courtesy of the lovely future Mrs. Reid.” He ended the statement with a wink in your direction that had you blushing and burying your face into Spencer’s shoulder as he chuckled.

“Oh come on David, don’t embarrass the girl so soon!” Emily jokingly chastised him as the group began migrating to the kitchen to dig into the meal. 

As everyone served themselves and sat down, Spencer asked David something quietly and the older man nodded before heading back into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of white wine that he placed beside you along with a glass. “Reds aren’t for everyone, I understand,” he told you, gently squeezing your shoulder as Spencer grabbed the bottle and began opening it to pour you a glass. 

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to accommodate me like that though, I wouldn’t want to put you out of your collection,” you rambled apologetically as you eyed the expensive looking bottle in Spencer’s hands. 

“What’s a good wine for if not for sharing?” David asked, giving you a warm smile before he made his way to his seat at the head of the table to begin the meal. 

By the end of the meal you were on your second glass of deliciously smooth and sweet white wine and had finished your pasta, telling David, “I think this is hands down the best pasta I’ve ever had!”

“Why thank you, sweetheart,” he replied with a chuckle. Just as your attention was being taken away by JJ asking you a question about your job, you could have sworn you saw David mouth to Spencer ‘I love her’ which made your heart soar as you felt Spencer’s hand squeeze your thigh right as he did. 

Later that evening after dessert and another few glasses of wine, you had your legs draped over Spencer’s lap as you lounged in the living room, deep in conversation with Derek about the latest NFL season. Derek’s laugh rang throughout the room as he persisted in his playful argument with you, saying, “Nuh uh, your Chiefs got nothing on my Bears! We’re set up for the playoffs while the Chiefs are having one of the worst seasons in the NFL!”

“Just you wait! One day they’ll be Super Bowl Champs!” you retaliated with a giggle falling from your lips. 

“No way! With their record lately, I’d be surprised if they’re even a team come next season!” Derek teased. 

“Oh bite me!” you said with a playful roll of your eyes. 

“Nah, you’ve got pretty boy to do that for you,” he said as he sent a wink in Spencer’s direction. 

You pulled yourself forward and hung your arms around Spencer’s neck and sent him pleading eyes as you said, “Come on, Spence, back me up here!”

Spencer shook his head as he chuckled and told you, “I love you, but I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” He leaned into you and kissed you quickly before adding, “But you look damn good so I say you’re winning here.”

“Why thank you,” you said matter-of-factly before giving him another kiss back, earning a wolf whistle from Derek. 

After parting ways from David’s house and once more telling everyone how good it was to meet them, you and Spencer had made your way back to his apartment for the evening. You giggled as you held onto Spencer for balance, your heels and the wine in your system doing no favors for your coordination. “Did you have a good night?” Spencer asked as he unlocked the door and guided you inside, leading you to the couch and helping you out of your heels. 

“Mmm, I did,” you told him, a lazy smile on your face as you momentarily closed your eyes. 

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked with a chuckle, his voice a bit far off as you assumed he was putting your shoes in their place by the door. 

“I wanna dance,” you told him. 

“You want to dance?” Spencer asked with a bit of humor in his voice as he helped you to stand. 

“Yes, I wanna slow dance with you,” you told him while gesturing to the record player on the table nearby. 

“Then slow dance we shall,” he replied as he let go of you temporarily in order to flick through his record collection to choose the perfect one for the occasion. When you heard the tell-tale crackling of the record starting up, Spencer was back in your arms and telling you, “But just a fair warning I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Neither am I, I just want to be in your arms,” you told him as the beginning notes to The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra began playing. 

So the two of you swayed in each other’s arms to each song on the first side of the Sinatra record. Spencer occasionally twirled you around slowly with the biggest smile on his face before pulling you into a kiss. When the record stopped spinning, you let out a tired yawn and leaned into Spencer’s chest as you closed your eyes contently. 

“How about we get ready for bed?” Spencer offered quietly which made you startle back into consciousness that you didn’t even realize you faded out of. 

Rather than replying verbally, you simply nodded and held Spencer’s hand as he guided you into the bathroom where the two of you brushed your teeth and he helped you with as much of your skin routine as he could before you were already nodding off once more. Getting you out of your dress and into a nightgown was a bit of an easier task for Spencer and he got you comfortable in the bed before he began changing into his night clothes too. 

Right before Spencer could pull back the covers and join your already sleeping form, his phone began to ring with a video call from his mother. He quickly answered the call as he exited the bedroom and greeted his mom with a warm smile and a, “Hey Mom, is everything okay?”

“You look disgustingly smitten, Spencer. Did you meet someone?” Diana asked as her form of greeting to her son. 

Spencer chuckled as he grabbed a glass to fill with water, nodding to his mother and telling her your name once again and how he had taken you to meet the team today and then slow danced in his living room to Frank Sinatra. “I’m really happy, Mom,” he told her fondly as he sat down on the couch. “Before I met her I always thought that love had passed me by and that there was something wrong with me. I always wondered what about myself I could change to be more appealing to others but then she came into my life and she makes me love who I am. I swear she’s like sunshine in human form and I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“I can’t wait to meet the lucky girl,” she agreed. “When you know, you know, and I can see it in your eyes that you do.”

Spencer nodded, telling her, “That I do.” 

After Diana ended the video call with Spencer a little while later, he made his way back into the bedroom and snuck under the covers to be with you. Even asleep you gravitated toward him, your legs intertwining with his and your face snuggling into his chest as a small smile made its way onto your lips. Letting out a content sigh, Spencer kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, feeling like the happiest man on earth in that moment. 

a/n: omg y'all i'm sad to see this couple go they were so fun to write! but here she is! the final part of the Casual mini series! it was fun getting to know this Reader as she introduced herself to me and gosh, i think this part was one of the fluffiest things i've ever written and i'm here for it!

as always, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

ps can i just say how much i love the gif up top? he just looks so cute and happy! i have heart eyes looking at him!

taglists:

general: @reidmarieprentiss

casual: @princess-ofthe-pages @spicyspirit @misserabella @lillianacristina @lullvu @theylovemelody

Spencer: @i-live-in-spite

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

Cuddle Buddies

Summary: Spencer misinterprets the meaning of the term friends with benefits – but having a friend who will cuddle with him is, in fact, highly beneficial

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: suggestiveness (referenced/implied sex), embarrassment, awkwardness

Word count: 1k

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge!

Masterlist

“Tell me, pretty boy. What’s going on with you and her?” Derek teased his coworker while motioning towards your desk.  

Acting like you didn't hear him, you kept your eyes focussed on the paperwork in front of you. But of course you were interested in Spencer’s answer too. For weeks you had been trying to figure out the nature of your relationship (or friendship?) with him. 

“We’re friends,” Spencer said and thought about his own response before adding, “With benefits.” 

Spencer, oblivious as ever, had heard that term before but didn't know its true meaning. The two of you were friends who occasionally cuddled with each other – something Spencer would consider as highly beneficial to the wellbeing for the both of you. 

His words caught the attention of everyone in the room. The snickering and whispering followed the second he finished his sentence. You could no longer pretend you weren't listening as you felt your cheeks heating up.  

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, clearly embarrassed by what he had just stated. 

It was not like you hadn’t thought about it before. In fact, most nights when you ended up cuddled up with Spencer under a blanket while continuing your Doctor Who rewatch, it had crossed your mind. But it had never happened and you weren’t sure why Spencer would lie about it. 

Spencer found your eyes, immediately noticing the horror written all over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We’re not friends with benefits,” you mumbled, still in disbelief about what was happening. 

Derek couldn't hold back his chuckles anymore but JJ seemed to feel sorry for you and chimed in on the conversation. “Spence, I’m not sure you know the actual meaning of that term.”

She stepped closer to him before whispering what you assumed was the correct definition of friends with benefits. Once he realized his mistake, his facial features changed and could only be described as panicked. 

“That's not what I meant,” he stated what already was obvious. To deflect from the awkwardness, he started doing what he was most comfortable with - rambling. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that's what it meant. Our friendship does have benefits though, specifically the cuddling aspect. Did you know that nonsexual physical contact is very common among social animals? There are many health benefits to it, like lowering blood pressure, the release of oxytocin and –”

Your unit chief stepped into the room to interrupt Spencer and finally end your misery. “Guys, we have a new case.”

Spencer had to hold back a sigh of relief that this painfully awkward situation had come to an end. Both of you tried your best to not let it affect your workday, keeping up your professional demeanor in front of your coworkers. But neither of you could hold back the occasional glance at the other. 

It was hard to interpret Spencer’s expression when his eyes met yours. He had an apologetic look but there was also something else. Almost as if he had trouble holding back his thoughts from wandering to places that were completely inappropriate at work. 

You were very familiar with those struggles. 

It didn’t surprise you to hear him knocking on your hotel room door once your workday had come to an end. Spencer was predictable and you knew that he was about to apologize for embarrassing you earlier. 

When you opened the door, you immediately stepped aside to let him into your room. He had already shed his work attire and changed into sweatpants and an old Caltech t-shirt – a look not many people beside you got to see on him. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Spencer finally found the courage to talk. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he mumbled. 

You showed him a soft smile and responded, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

The question amused you. To you it was almost impossible to be mad at Spencer. You were aware that he never had any intention of hurting you. In fact, looking back you almost found his innocence and lack of discretion endearing. 

You shook your head. “Of course not.” 

Spencer sighed when you reached out your arms to hug him. He reciprocated the contact, immediately pulling you into his arms and holding you closely against his chest. There were many things left unsaid but talking about your feelings wasn’t really one of your strong suits. So you decided to suggest what the two of you seemed to be most comfortable with. 

You motioned over to your bed and said, “Do you maybe want to stay and watch a movie with me?” 

His smile was genuine when he responded, “Yes, I would love that.”

It was almost like the two of you followed muscle memory when you slipped under the duvet and turned on the TV. You found your place inside Spencer’s arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. His fingertips gently brushed over your arm, leaving goosebumps on their path. 

Despite the positive effects Spencer explained about cuddling earlier, it was impossible for you to fully relax that night. He noticed it, too. 

“You okay?” He breathed as he turned down the volume of the TV. 

Before you could think about it too long, you heard your mouth spill out the question that had been nagging you all day. “Do you sometimes think about those other, more exciting benefits?” 

Spencer audibly gulped before clearing his throat. Instead of answering your question, he retorted, “Do you?” 

You shifted your position until you sat beside him and said, “Would it be weird if I said yes?” 

It seemed like your confession took him by surprise. Spencer took a moment to think about his response. First his eyebrows furrowed, then his facial features softened again. “It’s not weird. I think about it, too, sometimes.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed to boost your confidence for once. With your hand gently placed on his jaw, you leaned closer to him until you could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth. Spencer didn’t hesitate to close the gap between the two of you, finding your lips in a tender kiss. 

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wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

Honey VII

Read Honey here | ~6.2k words

From me: I just want Harry to be jealous literally all the time. I'm sorry that's so toxic. I know Cece has aged like two months in a very short frame. But we're gonna slow time down a little. Only a few days are passing (if any) right now.

Warnings: angst - some more Miss Honey trauma, pining (both parties), fluff and some MORE angst

Summary: “Say bye, bye Daddy,” she whispered to her and kissed the top of her head. “Say bye, bye,” she repeated. Cece just giggled making her heart fill to the brim with love.

“Bye Miss Honey,” he hummed and hung up. “Well, Cece,” she turned the little one toward her and held her out in front of her before bringing her close. “I don’t know about you, but I think Daddy needs a pick-me-up."

It was incredibly awkward for the next three days.

The weather was still crummy. The power continued to go out at random intervals. Harry had been working nonstop, coming home to see his baby before she went to bed but then getting right back to work in his home office. His goal was to make it so that when he took his leave, he wouldn’t have to do anything extra outside of the days he was going to go in. He decided he would have to go to work two days a week. Which days were best was still something he was figuring out.

Regardless, Miss Honey was leaving for the first two weeks of his leave, in which he would have uninterrupted Cece time. While that was grand, he was already dreading the days without her around as well.

He hoped the days he was home with her and Miss Cece were the days he was going to make her fall in love. Make him trust her. Make her believe that he loved her for her and not what she did.

How the fuck was he going to do that?

The awkwardness was most palpable when he got home from work. Mostly because she didn’t change a single thing about her routine. Dinner smelled delicious. The house was always clean, his laundry was folded. He found Cece and her giggling on the floor as they played with her toys.

All he wanted to do was kiss her and thank her for doing those things and being herself.

Then he wanted to strip her in the middle of the kitchen and enjoy her body like it was a meal she prepared especially for him.

But instead, he gave her space. He didn’t beg her to sit around and watch TV with him. She went to the basement and ran on the treadmill. When the pipes whined from her shower, Harry wondered if it was normal for him to be jealous of a shampoo bottle that got to see her naked form. Instead, he thanked her for dinner and asked how her day was. He tried not to think about how pretty she looked coming on his couch and how her smile made him feel like he had won a trophy.

They didn’t talk about their night together.

Even though it was just about the only thing he thought about when he was alone and not actively worrying about Cece. It was definitely the only thing he had been dreaming about.

Hopefully, when he took his leave, and she returned from her trip he could convince her that this wasn’t some one-off. This was something he was very serious about.

*

Having sex with Harry was simultaneously the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced and also the dumbest thing she had ever done.

Whoever settled down with him was a lucky lady. She already envied the blissful feeling that woman would experience probably on the daily. It made his heart skip a beat. She was an idiot, fucking her boss. Who did that?

When she woke up holding the little baby that she loved wrapped in the arms of a man who made her feel... good and cared for... All the thoughts of her first nanny family came rushing back. It terrified her and made her spiral. This was almost worse in some ways. At least last time she wasn’t painfully aware of how attractive her boss was.

Harry was right, she didn’t talk to her best friend very often. But Eliza was a busy woman, and this was an idiotic thing to do. It seemed silly to bother her when she didn’t even know what she was doing. But she texted her anyway. It was probably a phone call worthy conversation, but she wasn’t sure she could have it without giving up part way through.

I slept with Harry🤦‍♀️

OBSESSED WITH JUMPING RIGHT TO THE GOOD PART.

NICE 😍

Eliza. Seriously.

Was it good?

Oh who am I kidding, I’ve seen pics of him of course it was good. Wow I’m getting tingly for you.

E L I Z A

I’m just want to make sure I understand. He’s hot as fuck, babe. Good for you.

No. Not good. That was stupid. I just complicated my career.

Did you force him?

No of course not!

So what are you worried about? You OBVIOUSLY like him

...Tell me it’s not obvious please.

I mean... It’s obvious to me. But that’s only because he’s so goddamn hot

You are supposed to be helping me!

I AM helping you

Do you think he didn’t like it or something?

Oh, sweet Jesus. She hadn’t even thought of that. I think I have to end it.

What your job?

No my life 😭

Oh, for the love of God 🙄 You’re a grown woman and you slept with your boss. So has almost a third of the country has too.

Not helping.

Her phone rang with a FaceTime call. Eliza looked like she was at her house. Hopefully alone. She didn’t need her husband knowing all the details of her epic fuck up. “What do you want out of this?” She asked. Eliza was her extraverted, bold, wonderful friend. She was the one that dragged her to parties and was the dad-friend to their group. They were a team, and it was nice to have her. She got right to the point. Hence her congratulatory text. She perched the phone on the floor, resting it against the bottom of the entertainment center while Cece rolled on the floor. “Oh hello,” Eliza cooed. “Cece, you are so precious,” her face looked on with adoration a faux frown pulling her lips down.

She smiled proudly, unable to keep it in. Like Cece was hers which only made things worse. It was like her first nanny family but worse. Maybe it was because her second family didn’t have little babies, just children. She had been with Cece for extremely formative months, helping the little baby discover the world. The last time she was around a baby for these formative months, she became too attached. What if something happened down the line where she and Harry were something and then weren’t? It wasn’t like last time.

Her whole life was wrapped up in Cece and it had been hardly any time at all.

“Eliza,” she whispered, her throat catching on her name as tears overwhelmed her. “I love Cece. So much.”

“So tell Harry,” she said softly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you on FaceTime, he adores you.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “What if...”

“It’s not like last time,” Eliza finished already knowing where her spiral was going. She swallowed and looked away from the screen locking eyes with the sweet baby who babbled nonsense and giggled about her feet. “Babe?” She asked. “It’s not like last time. You know that, right? Harry appreciates your opinion. He wants you there. He is kind and thankful to have you. He wants you there. But he wants to be there too.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“He would let you love her completely.”

“If her mom was alive,” she whispered.

“Then you wouldn’t have met him, okay? Don’t... don’t do that. This is different. This is something good that you deserve. You love Cece. You love Harry. And quite frankly? You were going to love whatever baby was lucky enough to have you in their life so it may as well be Harry. I get why you got so worked up over Tucker,” she said. She flinched hearing his name. Her sweet little friend. “This is different. You’re lucky, of course. Harry adores you. You could have this. It wouldn’t be selfish. He’s nothing like Cody thank fuck.”

She smirked and watched Cece she rolled onto her tummy and then pushed herself towards her. “Cece!” She shrieked.

“What?!” Eliza asked, alarm falling over her face.

“She crawled!” She gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Eliza, I have to call Harry, I’m sorry!”

She didn’t even say goodbye before she hung up and called Harry. She never called him so she should have realized he probably would have answered immediately—worry etched on his perfect features. “Hi, love is every—”

“C’mere Cece! Show Daddy what you just did!” She cooed and held the phone out at Cece’s eye level turning so it was in a selfie position pointed at her. Cece scooted toward her (and Harry) again and her hand went to her throat.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Harry praised. “Look at you, baby,” his voice was so soft and happy. “No solid food, but you’re going t’crawl, hmm? Jus’ determined t’make me sad with y’growing up,” his voice was a little forlorn. But he was happy and proud. She was glad she couldn’t see him, she would probably cry. She wiped the corner of her eye, as it was. Cece giggled rolling onto her back as she got close to the phone.  Harry chuckled. “Thank you, love. That was really nice t’see,” she turned the phone back to her. When she answered she didn’t see Harry’s face. He was in his office, the sunlight hitting his face and hair so perfectly. His dimple and smile made her melt. The adoration was plain on his face. “M’not having a very good day,” he admitted. “I was nervous t’see y’calling. But that was... that was really nice.”

She grinned shyly. “Of course. I wanted you to see it.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. “I think m’going t’be late,” his beautiful smile turned into an exhausted, frustrated frown. “Y’don’t have t’leave any food out or anything,” he said. “I’ll order something here later,” he assured her.

But she knew he would forget. Because she texted Niall to make sure he ate lunch or dinner or whatever you called the half-assed meal he sometimes ate between lunch and dinner time. Most days Niall said he didn’t. “If you’re sure,” she said quietly. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, kitten,” he had been using kitten now that he had made her come three times in one night. It made her heart flutter. Made her feel flushed and happy. “Thank you,” he hummed. “If...if you go t’bed before I get home, I hope y’have a nice night and sleep well.” Her heart felt achy knowing he was having a bad day. “Can y’show me Cece again? I want t’say goodnight t’her,” he smiled, unaffected by his bad day with the thought of his sweet girl. She scooped up the little babe into her arms who was crawling into her lap at that point without her even noticing in because she was so focused on Harry’s worry.

“Good night, my love,” he smiled. “I love you so, so much. Be good for Miss Honey,” he winked and waved at her.

“Say bye, bye Daddy,” she whispered to her and kissed the top of her head. “Say bye, bye,” she repeated. Cece just giggled making her heart fill to the brim with love.

“Bye Miss Honey,” he hummed and hung up.

“Well, Cece,” she turned the little one toward her and held her out in front of her before bringing her close. “I don’t know about you, but I think Daddy needs a pick-me-up,” she stood from the floor and headed for Cece’s room to get her belongings and change her before she attempted to make Harry’s day better.

*

Niall invited himself into Harry’s office while he was eating lunch. His sticky note with his name and a heart in her handwriting was pressed on the collar of his shirt like a badge of honor. “Hey,” he smiled. Harry’s eyes narrowed at the thoughtfulness of her sending lunch to Niall. He hated that they chatted. Hated that she laughed at his text messages.

Because Harry was jealous. Extremely, completely jealous and felt it was unfair she could talk so breezily with Niall and walked on eggshells around him. “She doesn’t like me,” Harry grumbled and continued looking through the documents on his desk and all the meetings and schedules.

“I doubt that’s true.”

“Oh?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “You and your new best friend talk ‘bout me?” Curiosity was in his voice but so was his unwavering envy.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Niall grinned. “Are you jealous of her or me?” He asked. Harry kept his eyes on his work again. “Don’t worry Harry, I’ll always be your best friend.”

“If you caught on fire, I wouldn’t help,” he grumbled.

Niall put a hand over his heart. “So sweet,” he smiled. “Why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand over his face and glanced at his open door behind him. Niall shut it with a kick of his foot and then sat in the chair across from Harry. Then Harry began pacing. Running a hand through his hair as he explained all the sweet things she did and the power outage (he mentioned but glossed over the things he did to her body). Niall didn’t even flinch. Unsurprised and simply kept eating his meal. When Harry finished rambling, he smiled, delight in his eyes. Then his expression softened at his friend. Because the teasing, while hilarious, wasn’t so funny at the moment. Harry didn’t just like her. He didn’t just enjoy her personality or even her body.

“You love her.”

Harry dropped to his own chair and laid his head on his desk ignoring what Niall said. He couldn’t love her already. Right? But maybe Niall, with an outside view, knew more than he did. “Niall, she’s gorgeous, funny, sweet, and she’s probably the smartest person I know,” he swallowed. “How can she think I only like her for the stuff she does?” he asked.

“Maybe because that’s all anyone has loved her for in her mind?” Harry frowned knowing that he was probably right about that too. She said just as much. “Do you love her for only the stuff she does?”

“Of course not!” Harry grumbled. He frowned and ignored the fact that Niall said love again. “S’kind she cares so much. She doesn’t want t’be noticed; s’not t’say she’s helpful. She just is. But it’s the only thing I notice. Maybe people only loved her in the past because of the things she did but I love why she does it,” he didn’t even pause to think about the L-word. “She jus’ genuinely loves the people in her life. S’probably her love language or something,” he shrugged.

Harry and Niall talked about a lot of stuff together. They discussed their business, golfing techniques, music, new restaurants, girls, and sex. They gushed about their families and even video games.

Talking about how he felt about someone so lovely was new to Harry. He had been in love before—or so he thought. This was different. She was different. Niall could see it. It wasn’t anything in particular. It was just her.

Harry swallowed. “She probably thinks she’s convenient,” he murmured.

“I mean...” Niall shrugged. “She is, isn’t she?”

Harry scowled. “Whose side are y’on? You’re supposed t’be my friend.”

Niall shrugged with a smirk. “I am. It’s just... you’re thinking about how you feel. Not the way she feels.”

“She’s not convenient,” he repeated.

“Harry, she is your nanny, and she does... everything,”

Harry frowned. “Did she say something t’you?” Harry was going to unceremoniously gouge a paperclip in his eye if he made her feel less than.

“I had no idea you had sex with her, if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t wait to Lord that over her for another three months’ worth of lunches.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know I’m stuck with you. Why is she friends with you?”

“Oh, we just bond about how much we love you, Harry,” he winked.

Harry’s phone beeped with his secretary at the other end before he could respond to his friend. “Mr. Styles, are you in a meeting?” He asked.

Harry liked Stephen well enough. He was well aware of the procedure for his daughter and Miss Honey. He was organized, punctual, and good at his job. He liked to golf like Niall and enjoyed chatting with Harry about music. He fit in well and it seemed like a great addition to his office. Especially after it took several weeks of temp people to find the right fit after he fired the incompetent woman he had before.

“No, Stephen. Jus’ talking with Niall. S’matter?” Harry gathered the papers he was reading in his hands prepared to pause his conversation with Niall, regardless, so he could get home at a semi-reasonable hour. Which was already going to be hours later than he wanted.

“Please don’t fire me, Mr. Styles, but your nanny is really gorgeous. And she’s here, asking to see you,” Stephen had a smile in his voice.

“Oh man, poor kid is toast,” Niall chuckled as Harry wrinkled the papers in his hand.

“She said your door was closed and didn’t want to disturb you, so she let me know. She’s in the break room with your daughter... is she single? Holy shit, I swear I’m blushing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry growled. “Can’t have a woman because she’s jealous of her, can’t have a man because he’s obsessed with her,” he rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath before he did something insane like smashed the button on the phone to answer Stephen. “Please refrain from drooling over her, Stephen,” Harry’s voice was clipped. Niall snickered. He put the lid on his Tupperware and left it on Harry’s desk for him to take home so that it could be refilled with her next yummy creation. He watched the agony on Harry’s face as he listened to Stephen talk about the girl he adored so much.

“I’m trying not to, but holy shit,” Harry knew all the inappropriate thoughts he was thinking because he thought them himself. “Watching her with the baby?” he sighed dreamily. “I think I’m ready to start a family.”

Harry yanked the phone cord out of his phone so hard, he was lucky plaster didn’t come with it. He shoved his chair back with so much force as he stood it tipped over and without caring he strode out of his office. All while Niall cackled behind him. “You.” He pointed at Stephen angrily as he approached the main desk on the floor. “Don’t even fucking look at her,” he strode past to the breakroom. Stephen stared at him wide-eyed and confused while Niall laughed behind him.

“So she is taken?” Stephen asked.

Harry turned to glare at him, but Niall leaned down on his desk. He mumbled something, quietly to Stephen, his eyes nearly laughing as hard as he did in the other room. Niall waved him off toward the breakroom again and Harry turned toward it but bumped into someone as he spun back around sharply.

“Oh!” She wasn’t prepared for Harry to be so solid (even if she knew he was) or for him to be right there as she approached him hearing Niall’s loud laughter before she saw either of them. Nor was she prepared for him to be mid-stride with the momentum of him turning and walking sent her already unbalanced body while holding Cece knocked her entirely off kilter. Which landed her right back onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry grabbed his crying daughter immediately even though she was perfectly fine, Harry watched her clutch Cece tighter to her chest as she fell, even though it meant she landed so hard on her butt and back it had to have killed. “Niall!” He snapped.

Niall didn’t have to run far but he did all the same. “Hey, darling what an entrance,” he reached for her but Harry passed him Cece immediately before his hands met hers. Niall didn’t pay any mind to the change in which of Harry’s girls he held but he smirked thinking about how Miss Honey was one of his girls anyway. “Oh, I know, Miss Cecelia,” he cooed and kissed her temple. “That was a big fall, hmm?”

“Are y’okay?” Harry asked, crouching and grabbing her hands to help her sit up. “M’so sorry, love,” he cupped the side of her face. “Are y—”

“Is she okay?” She asked brushing Harry’s hand away gently. Her eyes were watery. Maybe it was the impact of falling or the embarrassment—Harry wasn’t sure. But if she was in pain, she didn’t seem to care. Her gaze was trained on Cece, alarm all over it.

“She’s fine, love,” Harry promised, ignoring Cece’s dramatics for the moment while he looked at her. “Are y’sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

“I’m fine, just embarrassed,” she put a hand on her face and winced as she stood and turned to Niall. “Are you okay, pretty girl?” She cooed. “Did I hurt you?” She frowned.

“No, not even a little,” Harry put a hand on her lower back. “Y’hit the ground hard, love. Are y’sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

“Harry, I swear I’m fine.”

Cece reached for her tearily, trying to wiggle her way out of Niall’s grip. “Aw,” he clucked. “You just want to make sure Miss Honey’s okay, little Miss?” He asked with a wink in her direction. As soon as her arms were around his daughter, Cece nuzzled into her embrace against the front of her shoulder; her little hands gripped either side of her shirt right around her chest. It was adorable and Harry was very jealous of the attention his daughter could give her like that.

“Are you alright?” Stephen approached.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry’s voice was quiet as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m fine,” she kissed the top of Cece’s head and rocked her gently. “Just pretty embarrassed. Any chance you can erase that from your security cams?”

Stephen chuckled at her. “No one gave me a straight answer, I’m sorry to be so blunt—I know it’s poor timing since you just had a little tumble there...but I have to know. Are you single? I would love to take you on a date. You are so beautiful and—”

“Alright, Stephen,” Niall gripped his shoulders and steered him back toward his desk. “If you want to keep your job you’re never going to speak to her again,” he winked at the blushing girl over his shoulder. Harry was trying not to scream, fingers pressing to both his temples and covering his closed eyes. He was taking deep breaths to quell the angry jealousy that was boiling in his blood. How did this get so goddamn messy in such a short amount of time?

“Are you alright?” She asked.

He exhaled deeply, totally frustrated. “Am I alright? I asked y’that at least three times,” he grumbled.

“I told you I’m fine!”

He opened his eyes after rubbing his hand over his face. “What are y’doing here?”

She frowned. “Do you want us to leave?”

“God,” he wanted to slam his head into a wall. This day couldn’t be worse. “Can we get out of the fucking hallway?” He asked.

She nodded, her cheeks turning red again. The moment he entered the breakroom with an angry expression on his face, the few of his employees in the room made a swift exit. He pulled a seat out for her and watched as she winced as she sat. The table had a plethora of bags on it. A food bag, the diaper bag, the car seat, and her purse. “M’going t’ask if you’re okay, again,” he said quietly. “Please don’t lie t’me if y’feel uncomfortable.”

She smiled and nosed at the top of Cece’s hair where she was still snuggling. “I feel a little awkward telling you my butt is definitely going to be bruised.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. But at least she told the truth. “Are y’okay?”

“Other than a little embarrassed and a little bruised, I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” he sighed and ran a hand on the back of Cece’s head. “Hi baby girl,” he cooed, smiling for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Who’s that?” She asked. “Is that Daddy?” She giggled. “Do you want to give Daddy some of these snuggles? He’s having a bad day and needs one, I think,” she whispered and turned Cece toward him. She went willingly—excitedly, snuggling just as easily into his embrace. It felt like a warm glow settled over him. All the frustration he felt dissipated, and happiness started to bubble through him.

“That’s better,” he mumbled and kissed the top of her head. The only way it would be perfect was if he could hold her as well.

She smiled. “I brought you dinner,” she reached for one of the bags.

“Just Harry?” Niall asked from the doorway.

“Get. Out.” He growled.

Niall snickered closing the door behind him, which made her laugh as well. Harry rubbed his hand up and down her tiny little body while she set the food up—she even cut up Harry’s food into bite sized pieces so he could continue to snuggle his sweet daughter while he ate with one hand. She munched on whatever she purchased as well. “This is good,” he mumbled. “Where’s it from?”

“There’s a restaurant down the road. I stopped once after one of our visits,” she explained. “I would have made something myself, but I wanted to see you sooner rather than later.”

If he was questioning his love for her before, when Niall had asked earlier...

There was no question now.

He loved her with every breath. Every atom of his body.

He loved her.

So.

Very.

Much.

*

Day four and five post power outage came and went without much fanfare. Harry worked late. She brought Cece to the library and made sure she was entertained, learning, and growing. When Harry got home late, he said goodnight to an already sleeping Cece in her crib before he returned to the kitchen where the woman of his dreams was setting a plate of food out for him.

They didn’t speak much those two days, but he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t leave the kitchen while he ate. She packaged the food neatly for him and Niall the next day. She cleaned the dishes and counters. Hardly looking at Harry while he watched her. His eyes roamed over her body as she worked, desperate to see what was underneath her clothes again.

“Are you staring at me?”

“Mhmm,” he didn’t even bother hiding it. She had to know how much she meant to him.

“Harry,” she sighed, turning around and leaning against the counter. Her skin was flushed that pretty reddish pink tone that made him imagine the other three times he saw her skin change to the same color.

“Yes, love?” He smiled innocently. “Jus’ thinking ‘bout your bruise.”

Her skin turned a shade darker. “I bet.”

He took another bite of his food, smiling less than innocently. “Are y’okay?” He asked. That was serious.

“I actually don’t have a bruise. Or at least surface wise,” she explained. “The bone is still sore,” she admitted.

“I could rub it for you,” he offered. She turned back around without letting him see what shade of red she was turning. She braced her hands on the counter and tilted her head up to the ceiling.

He smirked.

But that was nothing compared to breakfast. Harry came directly to the kitchen in nothing but his towel making her put a hand on her throat. She put Cece in her highchair and turned to the fridge. Was she cooling herself off in there? Harry wished he could find out.

This had to qualify as sexual harassment in the workplace. It was her workplace after all.It wasn’t that Harry didn’t care if it was harassment, of course he wanted her to be comfortable. But she was comfortable. Wasn’t she? He didn’t imagine that chemistry between them. There was no way he imagined it!

Her tank top looked so pretty showing off so much of her soft cleavage that he just wanted to bury his face against her body. There was so much more than just her taking care of Cece or taking care of him. He wanted her to crumble. Only because he wanted her to crumble right into his arms. He would give her everything she wanted. Whenever she wanted it. They could make another baby right then. Right at the kitchen counter (or maybe after she put Cece down for a morning nap).

Harry stood and moved beside her next to the fridge. “Harry,” she whispered. “Please...”

“Please what, kitten?”

Her cheeks burned bright red and she looked away holding yogurt in her hands for Cece to try next.

“Do I make y’uncomfortable? Because I’ll stop,” he promised.

Ever so slightly, she shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “You’re just... making it really difficult not to flirt with you.”

Harry chuckled his mouth close to her earlobe. He inhaled along her hairline aching for her pretty smell. “Y’can flirt with me any time y’want, love,” he assured her. He pressed a hand on her arm, squeezing just above her elbow. It was the least erotic place but it made her heart skip a beat and the heat between her thighs spread throughout her body. Her eyes fluttered close, and Harry moved back to Cece leaving her cold and ridiculously turned on and he didn’t even do anything other than exist.

She was so. Goddamn. Screwed.

*

Harry’s stupid, insanely hot body was the only thing she could think about while the rain poured outside. More of the storms that lined their region wreaked havoc over the last couple of days. Which meant she was stuck inside with no escape from all that smelled like Harry, reminded her of Harry, and screamed of how much she wanted to kiss Harry until she died from breathlessness.

Sitting on the sofa where he made her come was a poor choice. She put her book over her face briefly before she sighed, unable to read any of the words that were in front of her because all of the letters on the page seemed to turn into the same five letters over and over. Just her brain screaming for the beautiful man that was kind, sweet, utterly adorable with his daughter.

And also, really good at making her come.

Cece had just fallen asleep in her swing for her afternoon nap. The soothing back and forth motion made it easy for her to drift along with the sound of the rain against the house. She had a book in her lap and was listening to the quiet instrumental playlist she had playing to keep Cece asleep. A cup of coffee was right beside her and other than her heart freaking out that she had slept with her boss and now it was really awkward, it was really peaceful.

For half an hour.

The power went out again. Fortunately, it was a little lighter out than it was during the storm where she let Harry pleasure her. Despite the swing turning off from lack of electricity, she noted Cece hadn’t stirred an inch. Frowning, she grabbed her phone to let Harry know.

There was no service. The storm must have knocked out the cell towers as well. Or maybe someone hit the pole outside Harry’s quiet neighborhood. Or maybe still, a repairman had knocked it out again trying to fix something to prevent further damage.

But when she peered out the drawn curtains, she immediately realized that the streetlight at the end of the driveway was still on. “Huh,” she hummed trying to piece it together.

Of course she wasn’t a mother. But having children around in her life and taking care of them for so many years, she felt she had developed some kind of mother’s intuition that someone else wouldn’t have if they didn’t have her job. She didn’t want to see it, but she swore she saw something move. Someone. Something like a shadow but worse, and it moved along the side of the house just out of sight.

No. No more crime dramas before bed. She thought to herself.

No one would come here to harm them—to harm Harry or Cece, right? They were just ordinary people.

Right?

More than ever, she was grateful for the soundly sleeping baby—she prayed the six-month regression she was going through wouldn’t make its appearance known. She hurried to the living room, scooping her out of her swing. She grabbed her favorite stuffy too. She took the stairs two at a time, careful to refrain from jostling Cece and waking her. She brought her to Harry’s bedroom. She refused to go in there after... She shook her head at that thought. That blissful, perfect thought. Harry was going to be home in no more than a couple hours, but it didn’t make this any easier.

“Okay Cece, you need to dream for a while,” she whispered. “I love you so, so much, okay?” She placed her in the middle of Harry’s closet floor, found a notebook on his nightstand. She tore a blank page from the back and scribbled a note on it hoping Harry would understand she was doing what she needed to do. She left the note in the closet as well. “Just sleep,” she whispered and kissed her soft little forehead.

Silently, she prayed for Chloe knowing she would be around. Quietly begging her to keep Cece safe while she dealt with the sound of a window smashing on the floor below.

She hurried downstairs with a pounding heart. Two men were climbing their way through the window. “What are you doing!?” She shrieked.

One held a gun up at her. Her hands went up instinctively. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m the nanny. What are you d-doing?” She repeated her heart in her throat interrupted her normal speech.

“Where’s the baby?” The other one snarled.

She shook her head. Terror pulling at her in every direction.

No, she’s just a baby. They can’t want her. “She’s not here,” she croaked praying her lie wasn’t obvious. She would throw herself in front of them, by all means, but she wasn’t dumb. They were a lot stronger than her. They couldn’t get past her. “She’s... she’s with her aunt,” she prayed that Harry wouldn’t hate her again. She would do anything to protect Cece. Harry already lost too much and if he lost his baby girl…

She shook her head at that thought, willing it out of existence. Harry’s worst fear was leaving Cece alone and she had just left her in a closet. Even if it were for the greater good of her safety it killed a piece of her to do that. Worry strung her mind wondering if there was another, better option. Leaving her alone without a bottle? What if she was there for hours? How long would she sit in her diaper? What if she cried so hard she dehydrated herself? God, how was anyone supposed to make this kind of decision?

“Jesus Christ, you said she was here!”

The man without the gun looked nervous. Clearly, he wasn’t the one in charge, but he had been right. She was there. Hiding in the dark. She prayed that she didn’t wake or make a peep. She just needed them to get out of the house.

They almost ignored her while they talked through a plan, the gun never straying from her vision. Slowly, she made way for her phone just out of reach. The man chose that moment to remind her that they hadn’t forgot about her. He walked closer to her making her throat close around a sob. “Let’s go,” he ordered darkly.

“Go?” She whimpered. She was going to be sick. “Go where?”

The one not in charge glanced at his own phone. “We have three minutes.”

“Walk,” he ordered and shoved her toward the door.

“Wait, please let’s just talk about this—”

“There’s no time to talk. You’ve seen too much. Either I shoot a bullet through your brain right now, or you get in the car.”

“You don’t need to do this!” She was glad the tears and sobs were quieting her voice. It was anything but fake. “I won’t tell anyone—”

“Save it,” he snapped and put the gun on the back of her head. She choked out another sob. “Can you take us to the baby?”

Her heart ached something fierce. Like someone had ripped it in half. “No, I don’t know where his sister lives,” at least that was true.

“Then you’re stuck with us,” he snarled. “You better be worth a pretty penny.” Kidnapping? Kidnapping her? She was good at her job. But not that good. Harry wouldn't take out a ransom for her. Would he? No... his daughter, of course. But not her. She was just the nanny. Someone he slept with out of convenience. Harry would be glad that Cece was okay. Even if she left her alone after she told him he never would. God, her heart hurt. “We only have another minute. Kill her or don’t. We have to go.”

A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes as they walked out of the house. “Okay, okay! I’ll go.” She sobbed. She hoped they didn’t notice they were tears of relief.

--

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Sudsy Confessions - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: As the end of the school year continues to creep up on all of the seventh-year students, Sebastian has thought about what’s to come after graduation shamefully little. He’s equal parts annoyed and worried that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, and he’s even more frustrated that he’s running out of time to tell you how he really feels about you. When a chance opportunity finally presents itself, Sebastian seizes the moment, even if the setting is a little… unorthodox.  

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub. 

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, love confessions, bathtub sex

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3 with more diverse tags :))

It was rare for Sebastian to get so bent out of shape over Quidditch. Especially since it had been an unofficial scrimmage between him and a handful of friends– which he had still won, mind— but it was the topic of discussion that had transpired after the actual event in The Three Broomsticks that had gotten him all hot and bothered, and there was no way around the truth of the matter. 

Garreth had brought up graduation. 

It was a topic that Sebastian had done his best to steer clear of since he had yet to formulate a plan for himself after Hogwarts. Apparently Weasley would be starting an apprenticeship with J. Pippins at his shop in Hogsmeade, which had warranted a few hesitant congratulations from the rest of his motley group. It was obvious that Leander and Imelda assumed the same thing Sebastian did; that Garreth would probably blow up the shop soon after starting. 

Then there was Imelda. Headstrong, resilient, and determined to prove herself. She fully intended on trying out for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team after graduation and refused to believe she would do anything but succeed. There was no reason to doubt her at all– she’d always been masterful on her broom and had set new records left and right since Professor Black had reinstated Quidditch again. Sebastian only hoped that he was well out of sight in the event things didn’t go the way Imelda wanted them to. 

Leander had taken a bit of a sharp turn somewhere between the start of school and the present moment and apparently wanted to apply to work at the Ministry. Specifically, he’d been talking about joining the Council of Magical Law– evidently finding the power that would come with such a position all too appealing. Sebastian couldn’t help but think it was rather on brand for the Gryffindor to think as much, but his encouragement had been lukewarm all the same. 

Though he hadn’t joined them at The Three Broomsticks, it was already known that Ominis was also thinking about working for the Ministry, but with a different motive. He wanted to get more closely involved with the Muggle Liaison Office for reasons that continued to escape Sebastian. Whether it was to learn more about their differences to wizard-kind or to spite his family further, Sebastian didn’t know, but he was frankly inclined to believe the latter. 

Then there was you. The enigma, the mystery– the great unknown that had turned his entire world upside down from the moment you’d walked through the Great Hall doors two years ago. He had no clue what your plans were after graduation, and not knowing was slowly eating him alive. It had less to do with being kept out of the loop and more to do with his unspoken feelings for you– feelings that he had been keeping to himself for years now in a bid to keep his friendship with you unmarred. After your tumultuous fifth-year, it had understandably taken some time for the two of you to get back to any semblance of normalcy, and now that graduation was approaching, he couldn’t help but feel like time was slipping through his fingers. 

Sebastian’s previously upbeat demeanor had darkened considerably after that conversation, leading him to bail entirely on drinks at the pub in favor of returning to Hogwarts to wallow in self-pity. 

He’d moved in absolute silence following his return, a metaphorical rain cloud looming over his head as he’d gone to his dorm to grab his toiletries and a change of clothes before setting off for the Prefect’s bathroom. Friday nights were notoriously quiet now that everyone’s N.E.W.T’s had been completed, and Sebastian relished in the solitude that he always found in the spacious washroom. Sneaking in and using it was well worth the risk if it spared him from more idle conversations with his fellow classmates. 

It wasn’t unusual for the door to be locked– due in large part to the fact that it always was– so he undid the latch with his wand and shouldered the door open, barreling into the humid space with the grace of a hurricane. He tossed his items down on the countertop beside the sink and ripped his toothbrush out of his bag, shoving it in-between his lips as he turned the faucet on and rifled around for his bath soaps. Disappointment clouded his mind as his thoughts wandered back to you and the unknown future. It wouldn’t take much more than courage and a slim chance for Sebastian to get his feelings for you off his chest, but his fear of rejection kept him rooted in place. He was certain that at this point, it always would. 

“Keep running the water like that and you’ll drain the entire lake,” a familiar voice said from somewhere behind him. Sebastian damn near choked himself with his toothbrush as he whirled around to face the culprit, and then he found himself on the verge of fainting when he realized it was you. 

You were lounging in the massive tub with a smile on your face, not at all bothered by Sebastian’s sudden intrusion. Your hair was pinned up off of your bare shoulders in a messy heap, and the brunet stood no chance at concealing his blatant double take when he caught sight of your wet skin. The bulk of your naked body was covered by the scant spread of bubbles, but the tantalizing view of your collarbones had a flush rapidly spreading across his cheeks. 

“I– shit– I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here,” Sebastian frantically mumbled around his mouthful of toothbrush. Dammit, he sounded like a fool. He ripped the thin stick from his mouth and spun back around to shut off the faucet and hastily gather his belongings from the counter. 

“You didn’t really knock to find out, but it’s fine. Don’t rush off on my account.” 

Your nonchalant tone made him pause, and he hesitantly lifted his head to stare at your reflection in the mirror. True to your words, you seemed wholly unbothered by his presence, simply continuing to bask in the warmth of the water as the steam wafted up into your face.

There wasn’t a chance in hell he could have anticipated something like this happening. 

Almost reluctantly, Sebastian dropped his towel back onto the countertop, instead picking up the paste for his toothbrush before setting to work brushing his teeth. He watched through the mirror as you raked your wet fingers through the free strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face, and the sound of the disturbed water dripping down your arms echoed through the space. “Did you win your scrimmage?” Your eyes never wavered from his in the reflection, and he nodded. “Go out for drinks afterwards?” Another nod, switching to brush the other side of his mouth. “Ominis and Garreth?” Sebastian shook his head. “What, Garreth and Leander?”

He mumbled around a mouthful of foam, “An’ Imelda.”

Your expression pinched into one of confusion as you mused, “I thought you didn’t like drinking with Leander.” Sebastian only shrugged in vague response before bending forward to spit and rinse, trying incredibly hard to not think about how very naked and wet you were presently. He was unsuccessful. 

 For a brief moment, Sebastian debated on changing into his pajamas and leaving despite having come to bathe, but something possessed him to turn around and contemplate you after he turned off the faucet. The easy smile on your face and your half hooded eyes almost knocked him out, and he swallowed thickly. 

What was it he had thought to himself just moments earlier? Courage and a slim chance? Was this not exactly that? 

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his voice almost a whisper. “What are your plans after graduation?” 

You tilted your head to the side in visible confusion, a strand of hair falling in front of your eyes seductively from the movement. He tried not to stare too hard. “Plans?” 

“What will you do once it’s time to leave? You haven’t said anything to me about it– or Ominis,” he added quickly. “We were talking about it in Hogsmeade earlier, so I was just wondering.” 

You seemed to ponder his question for a minute, your wandering hands coming to a sudden halt in the mass of bubbles. Truthfully, you hadn’t brought it up to either of the Slytherin men because you hadn’t come to a final decision yet, but it made sense that with the completion of your N.E.W.T’s, people would begin planning their post-Hogwarts lives. The thought made you equal parts sad and nervous. 

“I thought about getting a job at first… to make a name for myself and save money, you know? But honestly, I think I might travel. I’ve explored virtually all of the Highlands for ancient magic sites and I think I’ve hit a dead end. I want to learn more about Isidora’s magic– the power from the Repository is still as much of an unknown now as it was two years ago. It’s just collecting dust inside of me at this point.” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink and did his damndest not to sound paranoid when he responded. “Travel? Where exactly were you thinking?” 

You shrugged and averted your gaze to the bubbles in front of you. Of course Sebastian would be displeased to discover that yet another person from his life would be departing it so soon. It was part of the reason you’d been keeping your intentions to yourself for so long. Nonetheless, you answered softly, “Maybe to Poland. Isidora’s notes mentioned that she originally hailed from there–”

“Poland?” Sebastian’s frantic voice cut you off, and he found his legs carrying him to the edge of the bathtub to kneel there and bore holes in the top of your head from across the water. “You would go that far to chase after a maybe? You don’t know for certain if looking out there will even bring you any new information– it sounds incredibly reckless.”

You fixed him with a hard, telling look. “That’s rich, coming from you. Who was it that refused to let up in his search for a cure for all of fifth-year?”

His brows slammed down atop his narrowed eyes, “That was different.” 

“How is it any different?” You sounded exasperated, and he sighed indignantly. “You wanted answers, and you never stopped looking for them. You had nothing to go off of, much like myself presently, and you were willing to do anything if it meant saving Anne. I want to use this power for something good, Sebastian. I can’t do that if I don’t know how it works. Leaving is the only plausible outcome for me.”

“It would be that easy for you, then? To leave and disappear for who knows how long searching for who knows what? Would you have even told me if I hadn’t asked just now?” 

It would be that easy for you to leave me, is what he really wasn’t saying. 

You shook your head at him, completely bewildered that he was so affected by your revelation. “Eventually, yes, I would have. I don’t understand– why do you care so much? You of all people should know I would keep in touch; I’ll send owls every week, keep you updated on where I am and what happens. Going our separate ways was practically always in the cards, Sebastian.” 

Some tiny, annoying part of him had always known that. Living at Hogwarts was a blissful reprieve from the real world, offering himself and other students a sanctuary from the concerns and problems of adult life. Hearing you voice your thoughts was a completely different thing, however, and Sebastian was woefully unprepared for the dawning realization that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore.

He silently cursed himself for having taken this fucking long to accept how empty he would feel without you beside him. 

“Sebastian,” you whispered from across the tub, and his eyes slid shut at the sound of your gentle voice. It hurt too much to fathom not getting to hear it again, or not being able to see you and crack stupid jokes with you in the middle of Potion’s class. He wouldn’t get to duel other students with you in Crossed Wands, or go to Hogsmeade to drink Butterbeers and stop by the lake on your walks back to skip rocks. All of it would end, and he would be alone. 

Again.

“Sebastian,” you said again, and the closer proximity of your voice had him cracking his eyes open. You were directly in front of him now, evidently having left your spot on the other side of the bath to siddle directly up to the ledge in front of him. Your wide eyes gazed imploringly up at him, and your grip on the edge of the tub was white-knuckled. “Why do you care so much?” 

“How could I not care?” He forced the words out while he still had the courage, seemingly gazing into the depths of your very soul as he stared down at you. His words had your eyes widening further as a flush crept up your neck onto your cheeks, and before you got the chance to say anything, Sebastian was leaning down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. 

A surprised squeak weaseled its way from your throat as he lifted his hands to cradle your head cautiously, and you weakly curled your fingers around his wrists as he dipped lower to accommodate for the awkward angle. Sebastian kissed you hungrily and passionately– in the way he had dreamed of doing for years. He licked along your lower lip and bit gently at it, pulling a gasp from your parted lips before one of your hands came to rest on his bent knee, leaving a wet handprint behind in its wake. 

After a few heated moments, Sebastian broke away to look at you through his lashes, more surprised than anything to discover that your face was an open book; a mixture of shock and hesitance was etched into your features while something much hotter burned in your eyes, making his head fucking spin. 

“Sebastian, I– ah…” 

He let you go and sat back on his heels then, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on his forearms as he peered at you nervously. There were a thousand different things Sebastian wanted to blurt out, but he settled for staying quiet as he waited for you to say something– anything.

You gaped up at him for a moment, blinking slowly as the flush across your cheeks darkened considerably. “How long?” 

He shrugged timidly before he said, “Ages. Since fifth-year, if I’m being honest.” 

“You didn’t… say anything?” His curly brown locs brushed across his forehead as he shook his head. “Why?” 

“After everything that happened in the Catacombs, I was terrified of fucking things up again. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship– I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. So I just… kept my feelings to myself. But now you’re telling me you would leave– that it was always inevitable things would end this way– and I can’t accept that. I refuse to.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Your mind was reeling from Sebastian’s revelation, and your heart was hammering away in your chest so loudly that you were certain he could hear it. Of course you felt the exact same way, but much like Sebastian you’d been worried about ruining things or complicating your already tentative relationship– especially after the events of your fifth-year. But now here he was– on his damn knees confessing to you– and your thoughts of the future vanished completely from your mind. 

Biting your lip, you stared up at Sebastian for a moment with wide eyes. One of your hands rose off the edge of the tub to trail your wet fingers across his cheek, and as Sebastian’s freckled face moved away from his arm to swim clearly into view, you stood straight out of the water invitingly and let him wrap his strong arms around your bare waist. As the water beading over your skin soaked through Sebastian’s shirt, his eyes flickered between yours, searching for the hesitance he’d seen there before. 

It was nowhere to be found.

When your lips met with his again, the softness had left them, and the two of you kissed one another hard and needily. Sebastian straightened and nipped at your lips, smiling against your mouth as you melted into him, and your breath caught somewhere in your throat when his tongue slipped into your open mouth to tangle with your own. Holding you tighter, Sebastian trailed his hands over your slick skin– traversing up your spine and into your unruly hair to tangle his fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck. He kissed you desperately, moaning softly into your mouth when he felt your hands sweep across his shoulders to fumble with the buttons at the front of his shirt. 

You’d made it about halfway down the row of clasps before Sebastian grew impatient, freeing one of his hands to deftly undo the buttons with a practiced finesse that made your mouth water eagerly. He panted along the curve of your jaw as he undressed, biting and sucking at the skin of your throat until he was pulling away to shrug the damp material off of his shoulders. His tie was still snug around his neck, clamping the collar of his button-up in place, and he growled as he loosened the thin bit of fabric before yanking it over his head and diving back into the kiss like he’d been starved of your very essence. 

Until now the bizarre angle had proved to be a non-issue– but then the pressing matter of his trousers came to light, and you felt as Sebastian blindly palmed at his belt buckle in a bid to undo it. “Need help?” Your coy offer whispered against his lips sent shivers up his spine, but he was too frantic and greedy to give you the chance to assist.

Those toned, capable arms released you so he could stand fully, his lust-dark eyes never wavering from yours as he finally succeeded in unlooping his belt from around his waist. “Just don’t move and keep watching like that– it’s helping me plenty.” 

You flashed him a mocking pout but did as he asked, settling back into the water and scanning his body longingly as he stripped down to his briefs. He teasingly ran his thumbs under the waistband of his undergarments and shot you a smug look, all too pleased with the way you licked your lips when he eventually began slipping the attire down the delectable ‘V’ of his hips. The sight of Sebastian biting his lip as his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his toned stomach had you halting your movements, though, and you audibly whimpered before the brunet threw his briefs over his shoulder and descended into the soapy water with you. 

In a flash he had you back within reach, his hands coming to cup your rear as he silently prompted you to jump into his arms so he could carry you through the water towards the rim of the massive tub. Your back bumped against the tiles there, and Sebastian took full advantage by pressing himself into you more firmly. The hard, stiff length of him rubbed tantalizingly against your folds, and you sighed contentedly before his mouth was on yours once more. 

The two of you languidly kissed for what seemed like forever, and you were more than willing to continue for as long as Sebastian saw fit. When one of the hands he had against your rear began to slip lower into uncharted territory, you smiled against his lips and huffed out an airy laugh. “Eager, are you?” 

“Shut up,” Sebastian murmured against your mouth, holding fast to your bottom harder and with greater fervor. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this.” 

You arched your hips against Sebastian’s and drew in a shaky breath at the sensation of his shaft grazing over a particularly sensitive spot. “Then show me,” you implored. 

Growling again, Sebastian wrangled you around until you were kneeling on the ledge with your back to him and your hands braced on the rim of the bathtub. His hands were seemingly everywhere; sliding down your shoulder blades, scratching at the curve of your waist, then ghosting down the backs of your thighs as he nudged your legs apart further. You felt as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss against the outline of your spine, and there wasn’t a chance in hell you could smother the shudder of delight that coursed through you. Sebastian moved on swiftly, though, and began pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against your lower back, curling his hands around your hips before you felt him descend closer to your nether region. In your current position, it was just barely peeking above the thin layer of bubbles within the tub, and you heard the water slosh around Sebastian as he dropped to his knees and came face to face with your most intimate parts. 

The broad slick of Sebastian’s tongue sliding through your folds pulled a startled gasp from your lips, and your forehead fell against the tile with a soft, stuttered moan. The feeling of him tasting you– achingly and deliberately slow– had you shaking in earnest as you bit your knuckle for a semblance of control. You were struggling against the urge to rock back into his ministrations, eventually settling for reaching between your spread legs with your free hand to rub at your clit for some added reprieve, but then Sebastian slid his palms from your hips to your inner thighs to nudge your hand away. 

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered to you, and you mewled softly before tucking your hand against your chest and nodding. “Don’t hold back, either. I want to hear you.”

You were on the verge of responding, but the way Sebastian slid his tongue over you again drove whatever words you’d formulated straight out of your head. His hands ghosted along your skin as he lowered himself further, the tops of his shoulders completely submerging beneath the soapy water, and he took care to trail his fingers slowly down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he made himself comfortable behind you. 

Sebastian laved his tongue over you gently and encouragingly, then experimentally stiffened the muscle before poking it inside of you, leaving you whining and gasping his name. The brunet pushed his tongue in deeper then, moaning in response to the hitch in your voice as he pressed his lips against your folds and fucked the muscle into you slowly. 

“Gods, S-Sebastian–”

The man in question sighed and picked up his pace, flicking his tongue into you and dropping messy kisses against you. One of his hands slid up to your clit, brushing two of his fingers over the bundle of nerves with a moan, and when he leaned in hard to fuck his tongue as deep as possible into you, your high, airy whimpers made Sebastian’s head spin. 

With one last pump of his tongue, Sebastian pulled away, grinning at the way you twitched in response to his efforts. You heard the water stir and felt the warm, wet weight of the Slytherin drape over your back as he leaned forward to kiss across your shoulder, his hands running soothingly up the sides of your waist. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathed out, prompting you to turn and look at him over your shoulder. Your half-hooded eyes and parted lips sparked something in him then, and when you reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, the brunet leaned in to meet you gladly. You moaned into the kiss, drawing a like-minded sound from Sebastian when you ground your hips back against his throbbing member. His thick hands gripped at your waist tightly as he gasped against your mouth, a desire unlike any he’d ever experienced overtaking him in a matter of seconds. The urge to feel you encasing him was overwhelming– enough so that for one brief moment, Sebastian allowed himself to press so hard against you that it stole your breath and smothered your senses. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned from beneath him. Your gaze sought him out, but his own eyes were pinched shut as he relished in the ecstasy that fell over him from merely grinding against you. It wasn’t simply the act itself that was doing it for him. It was knowing that he was doing it with you. Everything he had craved for two whole years was finally coming to fruition, and despite wanting to relish in every second of it with you, Sebastian was losing himself to his impulses. You called to him again, “Sebastian, please.” 

His chocolate brown eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice coupled with your incessant tugging on his hair, and his shaky sigh told you everything you needed to know; he was incredibly eager. 

“S-Sorry,” he stammered out, swallowing thickly in a way that drew your attention to his bobbing adam’s apple. You merely shook your head in silent dismissal, then rocked back against him to spur him into motion. If it was guidance he needed, you were more than happy to provide it. “I don’t know how much longer I can draw this out,” he admitted with a low voice, and as though to punctuate the statement, you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your hips to prevent you from moving against him any further. 

“Then don’t,” you insisted needily, yanking lightly on his hair once more to goad him into moving. “I’m ready if you are.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice gravelly and directly against the shell of your ear. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You shivered in anticipation when you felt one of his hands trail down the swell of your rear to probe at your slick entrance with one of his fingers. His other hand traced soothing circles against lower back, relaxing you further until you had melted against the rim of the tub with your neck craned to the side to watch Sebastian as he worked. 

When he sank one of his fingers into you slowly, you let loose a shaky exhale and felt a flush creep up your neck and onto your cheeks, leaving Sebastian biting his lip at the wanton image you made as he pressed the digit knuckle deep. Thrusting slowly, he eventually managed to work a second finger into you, trying not to think too hard about the way you looked spread around him, or the way you moved back against him, or how fucking wet you were. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned. His eyes flicked back up to yours, entirely certain that he looked just as fucking needy as you did– especially given the way you shivered and rode back against his hand a little harder. “C-Curl your fingers down a little–” he did so, and was instantly rewarded with a telling jolt from you. “Oh fuck– there–” 

The sound of Sebastian moaning to himself was almost lost in the way you were gasping and keening, and he moved his hand from your back to your hip to hold you in place as he followed the same path you’d instructed him to with his fingers. He thrusted a little harder, curling his digits against your sweet spot, and the way you arched your back and spread your thighs as far as you could without slipping while you gasped for Sebastian was fucking intoxicating. 

It was too much. 

Sebastian pulled his fingers free and reached towards you without a second thought, coiling his arm around your waist as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn’t help but whine at the way his cock rubbed against you, and you were near boneless in the brunet’s arms as his lips molded to yours and his tongue delved into your mouth. His strong arm held you fast to him as the other braced against the rim of the tub, holding him steady above you as he kissed you senseless. When he finally broke away to catch his breath, you practically sagged into the water beneath him. 

“Merlin, Sebastian…” 

“Are you okay?” The Slytherin’s voice was rough when he asked, low and raspy with arousal, and once you gave your enthusiastic approval, Sebastian reached between the two of you to line himself up before pressing into you. 

Sebastian’s eyes squeezed shut at how you felt around him; tight, hot, and utterly incredible. He just barely managed to keep his composure as he slowly filled you, and your scarcely stifled gasps and keening whimpers were decidedly not helping him keep his wits about him. Every fiber of Sebastian’s being urged him to ram his cock into you– to fuck your brains out and hear his name spill from your lips in breathless screams. When he finally did sheathe himself all the way inside of you, he melted against your back, holding you tightly and whispering your name against your ear over and over again. 

“Fuck, you’re…” you trailed off, subtly shaking against Sebastian’s damp skin. “You’re b-big.”

“Gods, darling,” Sebastian breathed, exhaling roughly into the nape of your neck. “Can I move?” 

You gave a stuttered assent, but you were still insanely tight around his cock, so for both your sakes when Sebastian pulled back a little and rolled his hips back in, he did so slowly in a bid to test the waters. 

No pun intended.

Your choked moan was more than enough of an answer for him, so he worked to set a slow, deep rhythm, buying himself time to get used to the heat wrapped around his cock. The gentle sigh that emanated from you coupled with the way your back bowed ever so slightly told Sebastian that his restraint was appreciated. But then you were glancing back at him from over your shoulder, and the rosy flush that colored your cheeks combined with your glazed over eyes nullified the majority of his self-control. 

Sebastian blindly trusted you to keep steady on your knees as he gripped your hips to thrust into you harder, moving faster and giving gasping moans as you tensed and groaned, squeezing him in the most perfect way. He pulled you back onto his cock, adjusting his hips so he could fuck into your sweet spot, and the way you arched under him and cried out was fucking amazing. 

“Oh f-fuck, Sebastian,” you moaned, reaching back to tangle your hand in his damp, brown curls, and Sebastian let you tug him closer so he could mouth along your shoulder, tasting the sweet-smelling bathsoaps as he went. The water splashed around you both, and you swore softly as a small wave of sudsy water sloshed up the side of the tub and sprayed you in your face. 

Taking note of your predicament, Sebastian slowed his movements and angled his head so he could murmur directly in your ear, “Do you want to move?” 

“We could, but– damn, Sebastian–”

Sebastian didn’t want to fucking move. He did want to see your face, though. He pulled out swiftly, and before you could move to climb out of the water, he grabbed and maneuvered you around so your back was pressed against the side of the tub with your legs bent over his elbows. When he reached back further to grip the rim of the tub on either side of you, he sank back into you with a low moan. Water wasn’t the most spectacular of lubricants as it turned out, but you were naturally slick enough that it was essentially a nonissue.

The expression that spread over your flushed face drove Sebastian a little crazy. He moved hot and slow, pulling back far with every aching thrust before filling you up and making you whimper. It’s exactly what Sebastian had wanted, but the way your eyes rolled shut just made him want to fuck you harder, water splashing in your face be damned. 

He leaned in close and nipped at your swollen lips, still rolling his hips maddeningly slow. “I want to fuck you so hard,” he managed, voice shaking. “I want to hear you scream my name. I want to see you fall over the edge so hard that you pass out in my arms.” He snapped his hips, just enough to make you cry out. “I’ll fuck you just like that. I’ll make the Prefects come running from how loud you are. I hope you don’t have plans this weekend, because you’re mine until the bell tolls on Monday.”

You whimpered and shivered under Sebastian, sucking in sharp breaths with every slow thrust, and when you rode your hips back into the brunet, he couldn’t help but let his head hang between his shoulders, his dark eyes sliding shut. The way you were sucking him in deeper was mind-blowing, the water flowing in waves around the two of you, until a burning, tightening sensation took root in your gut and made you grit your teeth together in anticipation. 

“S-Sebastian, fuck,” he thrust harder in response, grinding his hips into you and causing your back to arch with a gasping cry. “Sebastian, I’m– I’m going to–”

“Do it,” he gasped, leaning in to kiss you quickly and messily. “Let me see how you come for me.” 

Your nails dug into his shoulder before you pulled one hand away to begin frantically rubbing circles over your swollen clit. You rocked your hips back into his and worked yourself closer to your finish with a low moan, keeping your movements in time with his thrusts. The way you licked your lips and the way you watched Sebastian with a dark, fucked-out gaze made him whimper. You were so intense– your lips parting on gasping moans of Sebastian’s name– and it took a surprising amount of self-control for him to not just fucking blow it right then. Instead, he bent you back just a little further, just enough to see that needy expression fall back over your face as he fucked you just that little bit harder. 

Your moans grew higher, louder, breathier, until you were crying out and shaking in Sebastian’s arms. “S-Seb– fuck– I’m coming, I’m coming–” 

Your spine rounded and your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down tight on Sebastian’s cock, a guttural whine ripping from your heaving chest as your climax washed over you. The dexterous movements from your fingers took you higher than you thought possible, and the way you barely managed to choke out Sebastian’s name was enough to send the Slytherin over the edge. 

He pressed himself against you and buried his cock deep, fucking you through your finish with short, fast thrusts while he moaned your name against your throat, his hands moving to grip your sides tight with trembling fingers. “Fuck, darling, fuck–”

Blearily, you moved your arm and wrapped it around Sebastian’s neck as he came, who was shaking and babbling far too loud for it to be muffled against your slick skin. You buried your face into his tangled hair, jolting slightly from every miniscule movement of his twitching member inside of you. When the bulk of his post-coital high had subsided, he began wetly mouthing up your neck and along your jaw before sweetly peppering kisses over your cheek. The demonstration brought a breathless grin to your face, and your hands found their way to the hair at the back of his neck before you wound your fingers through the strands. 

“Merlin’s bloody balls,” Sebastian gritted out, sliding his arms out from under your knees to hold them fast to his waist. You followed his lead easily and wrapped your legs around his hips, sitting up to kiss him contentedly as your palms skimmed along his freckled back. He smiled against your lips and murmured, “We should probably get out. I can feel how pruney your fingers are.” 

“Mm,” you hummed softly, pulling back from the kiss to hold one of your hands up to see how wrinkled your skin had become in the throes of passion. “You’re not wrong. But it would be counterproductive to not wash off all the sweat, wouldn’t it?” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink before smiling brightly at you in agreement. Almost reluctantly, he slid free from your welcoming heat and deposited you on the shallow stone ledge, then hoisted himself out of the bath to pad over to his toiletry bag. After grabbing all the necessities and jumping back into the steaming water, the two of you took your time cleansing one another, lingering touches and thoughtful kisses being exchanged throughout the process. Eventually Sebatian found himself sitting with his back to the rim of the tub, your smaller figure situated comfortably between his legs as he scooped water into his hands and let it run over your shoulders. If your slouched posture was anything to go by, you were incredibly relaxed, and Sebastian realized dimly that he was too. To be with you in this way was everything he could ever want and more, and he didn’t want it to end. Not by a longshot. 

“Let me come with you after graduation,” he said suddenly, his voice a mere whisper from behind you. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you processed his request, the bathroom utterly silent except for the distant dripping of water from the faucet, and before long you were turning around to face him with your hands braced on his legs. “What?” 

“Let me come with you,” he said again, conviction burning in his dark eyes. “To Poland. I want to do whatever I can to help you. Please don’t leave me behind.” 

All you could do was blink for a moment before opening and closing your mouth in surprise. Sebastian’s unwavering gaze only prolonged the formation of words, until eventually you furrowed your brow and uncertainty took root. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him with you– far from it, in fact. The events that had transpired just minutes earlier had only proven that your close relationship was something to treasure for as long as possible, and you were more than ready to do exactly that. You just didn’t want him to throw his own ambitions to the side simply because you planned to travel. “What about what you want to do? Don’t you have your own plans? I thought Professor Weasley talked to you about–” 

“I never made a decision,” he stated firmly and with a shake of his head. “The Professor had her own ideas about what I would excel at, but I never agreed or wanted to pursue any of her suggestions. I honestly felt like I was in limbo until now. My point is, what I want is to stay with you. I want to help you the same way you helped me with Anne, and I really, really don’t want to end up sitting alone in some office in London waiting for your owls to reach me. There’s always something missing when you’re not with me.”

To say you were an emotional mess would be a monumental understatement. Sebastian’s words struck something deep within you, something sentimental and desperate to come to the surface. He evidently saw your tears before you felt them, because he was instantly sitting forward to cup your cheeks in his wet hands before wiping them away with his thumbs. The concern on his face was apparent, but you were already smiling reassuringly at him before he could verbally ask if you were alright. “You really know how to confess to a girl, huh?” 

He let loose an airy, relieved laugh that drifted over your nose and chilled your damp cheeks, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrists as he smiled anxiously at you. “I had a long time to practice. Is that a yes, then?” 

“Yes, you can come with me. I would love it if you did,” you said, and the giddy excitement that radiated from the man was the most palpable thing in the room at that moment. “Two heads might be better than one, after all.”

Sebastian was on you in an instant. He coiled around you like a baby mooncalf and smiled so brightly that it easily rivaled the intensity of the sun. Water splashed everywhere as he spun you effortlessly within the bath, your capricious laughter reverberating off the walls of the spacious room as elation flooded your system. Being encased in his warm embrace was all the confirmation you needed that you had made the right choice. In turn, knowing that his future was all the clearer brought a sense of peace and belonging to Sebastian that he would hold on to for as long as he was able. 

It just so happened that presently, he was holding on to you. 

cloudburst

y/n and harry broke up. he goes on a date, and y/n drives in the rain.

wordcount: 8.5k+

—————

(Y/N) knew it was hypocritical to be feeling jealous at the moment—pathetic, even. She was there that night, she knew she was the one that ended her relationship with Harry. He was single, and there was nothing wrong with him going out with another girl; he could take her to whatever restaurant he wanted, including the one that they had found together last month. 

It had only been a couple of weeks, though. And, he had been the one that wanted to try and work things out with her. Harry had been the one that was insistent that they could work through this—the miscommunications, the lack of time together, the passive aggressive arguments—, but now he was the one moving on nearly immediately. She wanted to cry that it wasn't fair, that he was supposed to still be torn up about it the same as she was. 

It wasn't as if she didn't love him anymore or was itching to get out and meet other people, she was just finding herself more unhappy than she was happy when she thought about him. He had told her that he loved her, that he wanted her—needed her—when she had sat him down, she thought neither of them would be moving on this quickly. 

But, it's fine. It's whatever. Good for him. 

Locking her phone, she placed it face down on her kitchen counter with a startling slam. She didn't double check to see if she had cracked her screen, instead stepping away from the device all together as if it wanted to sulk just as back as she. If her phone was a good friend, it would delete the Instagram app as soon as possible; there was no reason to see any more pictures of Harry and his new friend at dinner. 

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) padded through her apartment with the intention of cleaning up. The last weeks had left her with heartbreak brain, chores having been pushed to the wayside as she recovered. When was the last time she went grocery shopping? Had she really run out of tissues or did she have an extra stash in some closet she'd been too lazy to check? 

She shook her head, taking the pile of dirty socks to her washing machine while her mind raced with distractions. It was late, but she could go grocery shopping, at least to pick up a few essentials so she didn't order in again for the next couple of days. Seeing the world for another reason instead of work would be good for her, she thought. Even if the thought of putting on shoes that weren't slippers made her want to tear up. 

After starting up the washing machine, she trudged up the stairs towards her room. The cloudy night called for something warmer than the ratted t-shirt and frayed shorts she had on, leaving her to rifle through the collection of sweats she had tucked in her dresser. No matter the garment she pulled out of the drawer, didn't seem to be enough; not thick enough, soft enough, warm enough. Leaving the pieces in a mess in the drawer, she didn't let herself think before she was drifting to her closet where there was a too familiar hoodie hanging up. 

The smell wasn't quite as strong as it had been weeks ago, but there was still a faint scent of Harry's cologne embedded in the fibers. It was truly nothing more than a plain black hoodie, the material showing wear in the way the strings were tied into a bow at the neck with frays at the end, holes lining the sleeve hems, and a lipstick stain smeared on the back shoulder in a shade she had on her bathroom counter. Though it was his hoodie, she had stolen it enough times that it lived at her home with Harry taking it back every now and then, imprinting himself on it for her to revel in once he gave it back. 

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she knew it was a bad idea. There was no reason for her to wear that hoodie. Really, it was surprising that he hadn't asked for it back yet—especially if he was going out with other girls. 

It would be crazy for her to wear it, right? It was not normal to be mourning a relationship she ended. That was not her hoodie.

She slipped it on, anyway. 

As much as (Y/N) was crazy, and hypocritical, and jealous, and insensitive—she missed him. 

This whole thing would be a lot easier if she wasn't still in love with him. If he had just broken her heart and ruined those feelings for him, she wouldn't be feeling insane as she pulled the sleeves over her hands and pretended as if she wasn't breathing in his scent. 

Going out didn't seem so bad when she had this on, though.

Collecting her bag and keys, she made a point to rush through the final steps of readying herself before she was going out the door. If she waited too long, she might end up crying in this hoodie instead. 

Outside, it was raining much harder than she had initially thought. Pulling up her hood, she attempted to protect her hair from the droplets though there were casualties that were immediately pasted to her face. By the time she made it to her car, the hoodie was beginning to grow heavy against her back, rain streaked down her bare legs (in the interest of getting out of the house, she didn't change from her shorts like she'd wanted), and her lashes made heavy with mist. 

Once safe inside her car, she pulled in a heavy breath. 

She could do this. While Harry was out at dinner on a date, she'd go pick up some spaghetti noodles and more cheese than she should eat in a week.

Because she wasn't upset. She wanted to be broken up. She's fine.

With a forceful turn of the key in the ignition, (Y/N) gladly focused on the mechanics of driving through the rain as opposed to everything else on her mind. The clean scent in the air filtered through the cab, comforting her more than she realized. 

No doubt, she could do this. 

Pulling onto the main road, she turned up her music to be heard over the sound of the rain beating against the windscreen. The pavement was slick, dyed a slate black with the help of the droplets, puddles growing in every small divot in the road. The streetlamp twinkled off of the gathered water, rippling with each added drop. Everything was just a bit bleary through the windshield, even with the reach of her wipers going in overtime to wipe away the streaks. 

While she was never a huge fan of driving in less than perfect conditions, especially at night, the scene out here tonight was a perfect match to the pit in her stomach. It made sense for the weather to act this way, she thought; she was too torn up for the world to be given a cloudless, warm night. 

The music playing sifted through a playlist she'd found the other day, her search having been nothing more than for "breakup music". While she didn't know every song, or if she was even allowed to be moping to the tunes considering she was the one that cut things off, the lyrics she could catch were felt in her chest with a weight on her lungs. The ones about the other party moving on before the singer was ready stung particularly sharp tonight.

Especially when an all too familiar song started up, a voice she'd heard thousands of times before pleading with his ex lover to keep from calling her new flame "baby". 

This song had come out long before (Y/N) had met Harry, written with another in mind, but she remembered listening to it back then. She remembered wondering just how heartbroken one would have to be to write stanzas just as these, how hurtful it would be to see your love finding someone else to take your place. 

(Y/N) automatically reached out to skip the song, not even knowing it was on the playlist despite it being an obvious pick, but her hand stopped short. 

It'd been weeks since she heard his voice, even longer since he sang around her. Even if this was through speakers, mastered and fit to music, it was something she'd been missing despite pretending she didn't. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dropping her and back to the steering wheel as if she hadn't just submitted to self-torture. 

As the tune went on, (Y/N) no longer had to wonder what kind of heartbreak went into poetry like this. She was right where Harry used to be, wishing he would give her just a bit longer of pretending to be his baby before he chose another. 

She hadn't realized she was tearing up until her wipers were unable to keep her view from being blurry. The rain outside now paled in comparison to pools glimmering at her waterline. Her skin felt hot, resistant to the chill seeping through her vents. She didn't even make it through the full of the outro before she repeated the song once more, knowing it would only spur her tears on that much more. 

Before she knew it, her bottom lip was quivering before a broken sob puffed from her lips. She sniffled with tears racing down her cheeks, searing over her warmed skin. 

It wasn't her business, but did he share the same bite of sushi with this new girl that he'd also given to (Y/N) a month ago? Did he order the same bottle of rosé? Did he reach across the table to push her hair out of her face just as he did for (Y/N)? Was tonight going to be the first date they would relay to friends and family when asked how they had found someone so special? She had no right to ask any of these questions, but was Harry going to fall in love with this new girl? 

Did he think of (Y/N) at all tonight, like she was thinking of him? 

The idea of being on Harry's mind at all was enough to have her hands tensing around the wheel, but the thought of not crossing it at all had them shaking instead. Her eyes were flooded, hands wavering on the steering wheel, skin warm and nose wet. The rain beat down against the hood of her car with as much force as her heartbeat, riding the tempo as if she couldn't hear it well enough in her ears. 

She shouldn't've left the house tonight. It would be way easier to sob like this if she wasn't having to also keep track of the road in front of her and the slick pavement beginning to flood with more water than the drains lining the sidewalks could handle. At least she seemed to be the only one out on the road at the moment. 

Scrubbing her hand over her eyes, she attempted to clear them in hopes of regaining her focus. The song was over now and she planned on wiping that song and subsequent album from her vicinity as soon as she made it to the grocery store. 

By the time she blinked her eyes open, lashes sticking to one another under the weight of her tears, she was only a few hundred feet away from the vague outline of a stoplight. She hadn't even seen the light shift from green to yellow, let alone to the blazing red that shone overhead. 

Of course, now would be the time she saw one other person on the road, already creeping out into the intersection to use their own green light. 

In a knee-jerk reaction, (Y/N) stomped on her brakes. Her breath caught when she felt that tell-tale give under her tires, the feel of the back of her car shifting out of sync with the steering wheel. 

The broken rattling of her heart was replaced by the pounding of the beats against her ribs as she realized there was no way she was going to stop. She was currently gliding over the road, her tires unable to grip onto anything underneath them through the layer of rain on the pavement. All she could do was turn the steering wheel and hope that her car followed, hopefully missing the poor bystander who would learn that she wasn't paying as much attention as she should have been when coming to the intersection. 

Every thought in her head seemed to happen in slow motion, but the world around her raced by in a second. She could feel her mouth moving, her voice muttering curses that made no sense, but there wasn't a single sound she heard over her heartbeat. Beyond her windows, the rain blurred every moving shape, her foot still heavy on the brake despite it being a fruitless effort. 

Headlights shone against her face for a brief second before she cranked the wheel, spinning just in time as she hit the middle of the intersection. Her new bleary view showed off the vague outline of the pole of the stoplight for a brief moment before spinning out even further until she was facing the direction she'd come in, her car turning in a complete one-eighty in her lane until everything suddenly stopped with a metallic crunch. 

She heard the impact before she felt it. Her driver's side door whammed into the pole of the stoplight, denting through the layers of metal with the window cracking and breaking. Prisms of glass rained over her, grazing her face and tops of her thighs with prickling shards. Her dented door threaded to push in on her before stopping, leaving a pressure against the side of her body and a complicated way to get out of the vehicle once she found her head. Her dashboard was lit up with every caution insignia as if she had no idea of what had just happened. Through the broken window, rain began to stream in, seeping into the cuts on her face and legs. She shivered though she couldn't feel a single chill from the air, her body beginning to reel from the accident she had just found herself in. 

In the back of her mind, over the pelting rain and pounding heartbeat, she heard her breakup playlist filtering through the remaining speakers. 

A wretchedly familiar voice singing about fine lines and being alright. 

"Hon? Are you okay?" 

Turning to face the nice woman who'd come to check on her after witnessing her blunder, (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond. 

She burst into tears.

—————

Harry really needed to stop wearing this necklace. 

He'd known that for the last few weeks, and, yet, every time he'd thought to unclasp it and put it at the bottom of a jewelry box to never be seen again, he never had the strength to. Instead, he continued to wear it every day, absently playing with the single pearl sitting at the base of his throat. 

Natalie watched as he fiddled with the pendant, but he still couldn't get himself to stop his idle hands. 

He hadn't even wanted to be here tonight, anyway—he had to self-soothe somehow, even if that meant playing with the necklace his ex-girlfriend gifted to him. 

Natalie was nice enough, a friend of a friend of a friend who'd been around to some parties here and there, but she wasn't (Y/N). Harry had only agreed to come out tonight in hopes of giving him a reason to wash his hair and eat something that wasn't bread or coffee while sitting on the kitchen floor. Even with clean hair and an order of his favorite sushi cleared from his plate, he still felt slices of guilt; one for going out with someone while still being very hung up on his ex, and for going out at all with someone who wasn't (Y/N). 

Harry wasn't stupid, he'd caught the cell phones pointed in his direction when he and his date had been seated. If it wasn't up already, it was only a matter of time before those photos would be circulating on all of the socials and appearing on timelines. He could already picture the headlines for tomorrow morning, detailing the mystery woman on this dinner date while questions about his previous flame were posed. He just hoped (Y/N) would somehow be able to dodge these flecks of news—even for only a couple of days. 

Hopefully, he'd have a chance to talk to her before she knew. If she was open to hearing from him, he'd explain where he was coming from in even agreeing to this date, and maybe she'd take him back. If she knew he was still in love with her, willing to change his schedule, relearn how to communicate, start going to therapy weekly again, would it be enough to salvage their relationship? 

"But, what about you?" 

Being pulled from his head, Harry had to face Natalie with a blink of his eyes. She had been talking about a movie or something—or was it her last holiday?—, but he hadn't heard a single word. Another pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

He thumbed over the pearl at his throat. "Um... I'm so sorry, wh—" 

Divine intervention came in the form of his phone vibrating in his pocket. He shot an apologetic smile at Natalie before slipping the device out of his pocket, eager to pick up for whoever was on the other side. 

Until he saw the contact name, anyway. 

(Y/N)'s mother. She was calling him. 

"Who is it?" Natalie asked, canting her head at Harry's startled expression. 

"Um... Jus'—uh—someone I haven't heard from in a while. I have to take this, 'm sorry." 

He didn't catch Natalie's reaction before he was rising from his seat and heading towards the front door with the phone pressed to his ear. Rain sprinkled over his head while thunder cracked in the distance. A darker storm was moving in. 

"Hello?" 

"Harry?! Harry, are you there?" 

"'M here, yeah. Is everything alright?" He'd never heard her voice in such a frantic state, especially not over the phone like this. Was she that upset over the breakup? 

"(Y/N)—It's (Y/N). She's been in an accident, and I—we—Her father and I, we're—She's alone. I-I know you two broke up, but she's in the hospital by herself and the nurse said she's not doing okay, she's—I don't know, I don't want her to be alone but I can't get on a flight until tomorrow morning and there's—" 

Frantic chattering continued on through the receiver, but there wasn't a single syllable that was able to breach his thoughts. 

(Y/N) was in the hospital. She'd been in an accident and was now at the hospital. Alone. She wasn't doing well while she was in the hospital after being in an accident, all alone. 

His stomach turned. 

"Wha—Where's the hospital? What hospital is it?" 

Was he having a heart attack? Every beat of the organ fluttered at the base of his throat, the chambers squeezed tight. 

He needed to find her. She couldn't be alone. She had to be okay and he needed to be there. 

Her mother shakily relayed the name of the hospital and room number, stumbling over the syllables until Harry had them seared into his memory.

"I-I'm so sorry to ask you, I know what—" 

"No, no," he shook off her words, "Th-Thank you for telling me. 'M going to her right now, I'll let you know how she's doing." 

Shaky goodbyes were shared with quiet sobs sounding on the end of the other line. Harry felt breathless as he stowed his phone away, hands shaking with fumbling fingers. His head was a mess. 

All he wanted to do was go—get in his car and go, be with (Y/N). But, there was Natalie sitting at their table, a dessert ordered to the table with their check of sushi and wine waiting with their server. There were people around them who would no doubt post about any kind of commotion he sounded tonight, perhaps even leak his location if hearing he was on the way to a hospital in the city. (He usually liked to see the best in others, but it'd happened before, these wild invasions of privacy). 

Despite every instinct pushing him towards the parking lot and abandoning the night, Harry forced himself to walk back into the restaurant. He held a thin grip on his control, but it was enough to get him back to his table with Natalie so he could quietly speak with her. 

"Is everything okay?" she asked before he'd even taken his seat. 

Swallowing, his throat bobbed as he shook his head. "No, actually. I—'m really sorry, Natalie, but I have to go. My, um, a friend of mine—they're in the hospital. I need to go." 

Natalie's features were marred with surprise, mouth dropped open with her lashes in a glimmering flutter up at him. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's so scary. No worries, go ahead I'll take care of everything. Call me when you can, okay?" 

Meeting the blue shimmer of her gaze, Harry felt his features tighten. She was much too nice for him. 

He wasn't going to call. 

Harry didn't say anything before he was rushing out of sight, only stopping at the hostess station for a slick second to tell the staff to charge the card attached to the reservation. Natalie was open to order whatever she wanted for the rest of the night, but she wasn't paying for a single cent. This would be his apology for never calling. 

It was with shaky fingers that he typed in the name of the hospital (Y/N) was at—all alone—as soon as he was in his car. Though his heartbeat didn't settle much, his head felt a bit clearer knowing that with every mile he was cruising down the street, he was growing closer to (Y/N). His hands couldn't stay idle for very long, consistently reaching up to the necklace around his throat. 

(Y/N) was going to be alright, right? 

The question warmed the backs of his eyes, flushing his skin. As much as he wanted—needed—to be at her side, Harry realized he wasn't sure what he was walking into. Her mother had said she wasn't doing okay—whatever that meant. What kind of scene was he going to walk into? 

Stop lights and brake lights passing in a blur through the growing rain, Harry made it to the hospital in record time. The pavement was slick, reflecting the glow of the streetlamps and the many car lights bumbling through the carpark. He didn't think before he was pulling into the first spot he found, parking at a sloppy angle before he was rushing out. 

With the rain coming down, his hair fell across his forehead, slicking to his skin. The droplets acted as the tears he was unwilling to shed until he saw (Y/N) in person. 

He marched his way into reception, shoes squeaking over the linoleum. Behind the desk, a woman perked up, spotting him with bored eyes before she perked up with recognition he knew too well. 

"Hi, um, how can I help you?" she sputtered. 

Unable to muster a greeting smile, he kept his eyes low. "I—um—I need to see someone, please?" 

The rest of the checkin passed in a daze, Harry only barely able to keep himself from begging to see (Y/N). He relayed as much information as he could, showing any kind of identification needed. He was more than thankful to hear that her parents had approved his visit during their initial phone call, something he filed away for later so he could thank them when he had a clear mind. 

The best thing he heard, the one that stuck glaringly in his mind, was the fact that she wasn't housed anywhere to be treated for critical pain. She was being held somewhere safe and hopefully comfortable. 

Following the given directions, Harry felt like a ghost as he floated through the different doors and elevators. He moved restlessly while he dinged through the floors, feet shuffling while his eyes were trained on the rising numbers. 

Was this the slowest elevator on earth? Or were they always like this? 

Once set free on the correct floor, Harry floated through the halls, sweaty palms pressed into the pockets of his pants. All he could focus clearly on was the room numbers pinned beside the doors, the thumps of his heart bubbling in his ears. 

After going down what felt like endless miles of hallways, the correct room number finally appeared before him. The door was shut, the lights inside dim. His hand hesitated on the door handle.

He had been so consumed with making it to her, to make himself feel better with the sight of her, that he hadn't really considered if she would even want to see him. If she wasn't asleep at the moment, would she just kick him out? She had been the one to break up with him, anyway. 

Before he could doubt himself any more, he pushed through, keeping his steps light over the linoleum. 

Just as he thought, the room was quiet and dark, rain streaking down the window. There was a warm glow coming from the standing lamp at the corner of the room, machines beeping along with the television with a made-for-tv movie playing. A whiteboard marked with her name was pinned to the wall, filled with stats and jargon Harry didn't have the mind to decipher. 

Amongst it all, (Y/N) was laid in the hospital bed with the thin covers pulled to her middle. Her eyes were shuttered, showing off the bruising underneath alongside the myriad of cuts over her skin. As peaceful as she appeared, sleeping away under the crumpled sheets, Harry couldn't help the tears that touched his eyes. 

With the door closing behind him, he drew closer to her bed. It didn't take much examination to spot the tear tracks glimmering on her cheeks, the swollen puff of her lips. It was the same way she'd looked when she had told him she didn't want to be with him any longer. 

Harry wasn't sure what broke his heart more: the obvious evidence of weeping on her features, or the fact that her tears would have skated over every cut and scratch marring her cheeks? 

He shuffled over the floor. He wanted to be at her side, hold her hand and let her know she wasn't alone anymore, but he didn't want to wake her. There was a reason that she wasn't allowed to head home after being checked out by the hospital team, the more rest she received the better. 

Instead, he gingerly made his way to her bedside, taking a spot in the uncomfortable chair seemingly waiting for him in the lamplight. With the way she was laid up in the bed, he had an unobstructed view of her relaxed features, some of the more notable injuries on her face bandaged up while others were left treated with nothing more than a glistening salve. She didn't look particularly comfortable, especially knowing how she usually liked to curl up with her hands to her cheek and legs to her chest, but this was better than nothing. 

Better than being in a wrecked car somewhere. 

The thought was sobering, enough to have those tears he had been urging away to resurface on his waterline once more. 

She was here. (Y/N) was okay—hurt, but well enough to be left to sleep on her own. She was no longer alone. 

He hung his head in his hands. He didn't want to think about what kind of accident would have put her here, blood on her face with machines monitoring every vital in her body. 

With those tears in his eyes, peeking up at her between his lashes, she looked like a watercolor painting. The edges were blurred, leaving the general outline of the person that filled his dreams and became his muse for the better part of the last year and a half. 

He couldn't believe the last month of his life. He'd lost her. And for what? Because he didn't think it was important enough to send her a text when he was going to be out later than initially thought? Because it was easier to let his schedule happen to him, as opposed to shaping his life around making enough time to spend time with her? Because why would he talk to her, tell her where he was coming from, when he could be passive aggressive and sweep everything under the rug instead?

The beeping of the heart monitor was the pitched baseline that anchored him to the room. Every dotted sound kept him from being swept away in the rivers of tears dripping down his heated cheeks. 

He could have lost her today. In the worst case scenario of this day, he would have received a very different phone call. He wouldn't have had the chance to sit at her side right now. He wouldn't have seen these healing injuries on her, instead having only old photographs to remember what life looked like on her. 

As cracked as his heart was at the moment, he would take these cuts and scrapes, this uncomfortable chair, the stiff set of her bedding, over any other ending this night could have had. 

The rain pelted against the window as Harry fixed his gaze to the love of his life. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, if it had been nothing more than a few minutes or if it had been hours at her side, until there was the soft click of the doorknob twisting with the door pushed open. Entering was a nurse in soft purple scrubs, hair pulled back and a clipboard in her hands. She had her eyes trained down before looking up to catch Harry wiping his eyes and (Y/N) unstirring in her bed. 

"Oh, hello," she murmured, voice soft as they were both aware of the patient in bed, "I didn't know she was having any visitors tonight." 

A barely there smile curled Harry's cheeks, his skin smooth of dimples. "Yeah, got here as fast as I could. Have you been helping her?" 

The nurse shook her head, "A little, but she's been asleep for most of it. Poor thing cried herself into exhaustion, so I doubt she really remembers meeting me." 

Her statement had his bottom lip quivering. Harry had to remind himself to be grateful she was even here to cry. 

"She's doing alright, though?" 

With a quick glance at the clipboard, the nurse nodded her head. "Yeah, she's doing much better—now that she's calmed down a little. We've just gotta keep an eye on her for tonight. She got a good crack to her head, so I want to make sure she doesn't sleep for too long tonight." 

Harry gave her a nod, a moment from offering to wake (Y/N) for her before the nurse stepped forward. In gentle tones with a hand to her shoulder, she woke (Y/N). 

Unlike her, she had been sleeping rather lightly, jumping awake after only a single call of her name. (Y/N) fluttered her eyes open, lashes sticking together from the dried crust of her tears, enough so that she reached her scratched hands up to rub the mess away. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, her voice in a croak as she got her bearings. 

"Hello," the nurse responded with a gentle smile, "Sorry to wake you, hon. I just wanted to check on you, then you're good to go to sleep, again." 

"Okay," (Y/N) breathed, struggling to sit up. 

Without thinking, Harry surged forward, helping her as much as he could. The second he put his hands on her, (Y/N) jumped, having not seen him prior.

It was clear she was more than surprised to see him with the way her eyes widened, blanching at the sight of him. 

"Harry?"

He offered a quiet, thin smile, sitting back in his spot once she was stable, sitting up for the nurse. "Hi." 

Before much else could be shared between them, the nurse began running her tests. Small talk was shared between the two, (Y/N) glancing more than once in Harry's direction. His hands were a fiddling mess in his lap, watching with rapt attention as every evaluation was run. 

"Everything's looking okay—what I expected we'd be seeing," the nurse mused, writing down her information on the clipboard in hand, "But, how are you feeling? Any extra pain, anything you want me to take a look at or mention to the doctor?" 

"I'm fine," (Y/N) smiled, the expression less than convincing, "Nothing hurts any more than earlier." 

"Okay, okay," the nurse nodded, "That's good, let me know if that changes. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours, so get in your rest while you can." 

A pointed look was placed in Harry's direction at her last statement, a teasing curl to the corner of her lips. (Y/N) gave a sheepish nod. 

"Right, thank you." 

The nurse departed with a couple of well wishes and a reminder that she'd be back in a few hours. Once the door clicked behind her, a stiff silence settled between them. The only sound came in the form of the mechanical beeping of the machines around her and the ending of the television movie playing. 

(Y/N) had her eyes facing ahead, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Harry stared at her. 

"(Y/N)—" 

"You're here." 

His throat bobbed as he heavily swallowed. "I am," he nodded, dropping his gaze to his picked cuticles in his lap, "Your mum called me." 

A furrow had her brow pinched. "Her and my dad are on vacation right now." 

Another nod, a strand of hair touching over his forehead. "They'll be back tomorrow morning, but she wanted someone to be with you tonight." 

Maybe it was the way her shoulders tensed, the glassy look that took over her gaze, or the pinch to her features, but something brittle settled in the air between them. Every breath felt delicate as he waited for any kind of response. 

"I'm sorry." 

It was his turn for his brows to knit together. "For what?" 

That fragile tension between them cracked. 

"You were on a date." 

Harry hung his head, lips thinning. He thought he would have more time to explain this. 

"'S not what it looks like, (Y/N)." 

She shook her head, voice quiet under her breath. "So it wasn't a date?" 

Sucking in a breath, his lungs squeezed. "I mean—It—Yes, it was a date, but—" 

The beeping of her heart monitor heightened, the pitch seemingly hitting higher than a moment before with the pace quickening. "So it is what it looks like." 

"(Y/N), 's more—there's more to it than that." 

(Y/N) only shrugged at his half-hearted response, her head hanging between her shoulders. 

Harry felt just as defeated as she looked now. This wasn't how he wanted to reunite with her, but he guessed beggars couldn't be choosers. This was the opportunity he had, and he wasn't going to turn it away. 

"What happened tonight?" he murmured, shifting the conversation away from his own blunders. Unfortunately, this avenue would be an easier section to stomach than anything she would want to know about his date. 

"I got into an accident." 

"I know," Harry gently prodded, "But, what happened? Y'usually only hit curbs, not anything else." 

His shoulders loosened when his teasing was enough to draw a huffed laugh from her, a slight smile softening her features. 

As much as they may have deteriorated recently, he did know her. He knew her better than he knew himself. 

"It was just raining really hard, and—I don't know—I wasn't able to stop like I thought. I slid and hit a pole, and... yeah." 

As much as he did like teasing her about her more precarious driving habits, he knew more than anything that she was cautious. It wasn't like her to settle into accidents like this—she rarely ever drove in weather like this anyway, let alone at night. 

"Y'never drive in the rain," he pressed, an unaired question bookending his words. 

"I know." 

Harry looked at her, waiting for more than those two syllables. It was fruitless, he knew. 

He hung his head, running an absent hand through his hair before his fingers found the pearl at his throat. Eyes on the floor between his feet, he couldn't look at her as he spoke once more. 

"(Y/N). What happened tonight?" This isn't like you. Why did this happen? 

The air in the room seemingly went still. 

When he chanced a look up once more, he saw her sitting in her hospital bed with sparkling tears in her eyes. His chest panged at the sight. He knotted his fingers tighter together, forcing himself to see from reaching out. 

"(Y/N)...," he started, voice decidedly more gentle than a moment before. 

She shook her head. "I didn't want to be home—and I was crying, and I wasn't paying attention and the rain was heavier than I thought—and just... Everything happened." 

What was worse? Hearing that she had cried more than once tonight, before she'd even got in her accident, or seeing her recount it with another set of tears racing down her cheeks? 

This time he couldn't help himself; Harry reached out to touch her wrist. Her skin was warm under the chill of goosebumps on her skin. While she didn't move to hold his hand like she used to, she didn't flinch away. That was enough, he thought. 

"Why were y'crying, lo—(Y/N)?" He internally cringed at his slip up. He had no place calling her anything but her name. "What happened?" 

Another shake of her head. "It's stupid," she sniffled, fluttering her eyes closed with the tears clinging to the tips of her lashes. 

"Not if it made y'so upset that y'ended up here tonight," he crooned, words a quiet lilt only for her to hear, "What happened?" 

"I—It's..." she cut herself off more than once, throat bobbing, "I don't... I was the one that broke up with you, I-I'm not supposed to be upset. It-It's not fair." 

Her voice was barely a whisper by the time she finished speaking. His hand on her wrist tightened, a snug warmth against her skin. He ran his thumb over the bone, pretending he didn't feel the cut just on the underside. 

He waited. 

Another made-for-tv movie started on her television. 

He waited. 

She took a deep breath. Her eyes still closed.

"You went on a date tonight." 

Harry's shoulders deflated. 

"(Y/N)—"

"No," she peeped, shaking her head with her arm stiffening under his hold, "No. You were on a date, and I'm crazy and I'm not supposed to be upset, but I couldn't handle it—I didn't want to be home alone an-anymore. I didn't think you'd be over it already since I'm not, but you-you can do whatever you want an-and I need to be okay with that. And, then you—your music, it started playing while I was driving and I-I—Harry, I couldn't stop crying and then I crashed." Her voice was clogged in her throat, muddy and thick. Her tone came in waves, ebbing and flowing until it gave out. "I'm sorry." 

There was no chance Harry had of keeping his own tears at bay as he listened. It was too much—all of it; hearing her beginning to sob over the thought of him being over their relationship, how just the sound of his voice over her speakers brought her to tears while driving, the fact that she'd seen photos of him out on a date had driven her from her home to get away from herself. 

He felt his skin flush, the warmth heading down his neck the same way his tears did. He sniffled his nose, his lips rolled between his teeth to keep himself from blurting out each thought he couldn't help but to have. 

He doubted telling her how much he loved her was going to be much help when she was so dedicated to the thought of him already finding someone new to replace her. 

"You—" he cut himself off when his voice came a croak, clearing his throat with his hand on her wrist. "Y'don't have to be sorry, (Y/N). You're not crazy, either—I don't know what I would do if I'd seen y'go out with someone else, either. Y—'M jus' sorry, I never—I didn't mean to—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," she murmured, shaking her head as she slid her arm out from under his hand, curling into herself while she refused to open her eyes. "It's not your fault—you—I ended our relationship, you can do whatever you want." A shuddering breath had her shoulders shaking, lungs rattling. "I-I'm sorry you're here instead of with her." 

Just short of climbing up on the bed beside her, Harry pulled his chair as close to her side as he could. There wasn't anything he could say—nothing that he could imagine would shift her mind on what she'd seen and decided was the truth. All he could do, even if it involved uncomfortable bending of his joints, was collect her into his arms and hold her. It was only then that the slow roll of her tears were let loose into full weeps, her face buried into his neck. 

She burrowed against him, sinking into him as if the last month hadn't occurred. His hands spanned over her form, familiar with every plane and curve. His fingers caught on the raised abrasions that could be felt through her thin gown, but Harry could only be grateful that those were the only evidence of her accident. The mechanical beeping of her pulse skittered high, enough so he worried that the nurse could be alerted of the disturbance. Nonetheless, he held her tighter. 

"There's nowhere else I want to be," he murmured into her hair, his voice watery like the tears running down his cheeks. 

Reaching towards him, (Y/N) wrapped her hands in the wool of his jacket, fingers clawing into the fabric in a tighter grip than he'd expected from her state. "E-Even tonight?" 

Her cry was thin and pathetic, causing Harry to pulse his arms around her once more. "Tonight—every night. As long as 'm with you." 

He could feel the flutter of her lashes as she cinched her eyes shut tighter. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, just audible given how closely he had her wrapped around him, "Wh-What about her?" 

He shook his head against her hair, his nose skating over her crown. There would be a time to really unpack why he found himself at a candlelit table with Natalie, including everything that was going through his head every time she spoke to him, but that wasn't tonight. She needed him, and all of the reassurance he could give more than he needed to clear his conscience and monologue over his feelings. 

"She's not you and that's all that matters to me," he told her, sincerity dripping in his tone, "All I want is you." 

(Y/N) cried in a blubbering sob, "I didn't think you loved me anymore." 

Harry's own eyes had to be shuttered closed then, a fruitless attempt in hopes of stemming the tears falling out of his eyes and into (Y/N)'s hair. "I didn't think y'loved me anymore, darling." 

"I-I do, I do," she countered, shaking her head in his neck with her grip tightening on him, "We-We just never saw ea-each other anymore, and I-I thought you were mad at me all th-the time and I thought we'd be happier apart—b-but I was wrong and—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed her, starting a circuit of his palm over her back, "I-I understand. But now we know—you're all I want, an-and I'll do anything to make it work with you." 

"You're all I want," she whimpered, voice tight, "Don't leave me." 

While a part of him was soaring knowing that she was still in love with him, that this wasn't over the way he'd thought, he was still more than heartbroken to hear that she was so torn up and broken herself. She thought she had no choice but to end the relationship in hopes of making both of them happier elsewhere. He never imagined himself making someone he loved feel that way. 

"I won't." 

—————

Rubbing the lack of sleep out of his eye, Harry stood back as (Y/N) checked out of the hospital. Her mother was twined to her side with her father looking just as distraught, though he was better at giving his daughter space. They'd come straight here as soon as they landed only a couple of hours prior, walking in on Harry who had stayed far longer than the originally carved out visiting hours with (Y/N) still in his arms. 

Gratitude was exchanged between them—Harry for coming to (Y/N)'s side at a moment's notice, and her parents for telling him at all and letting him be there for her—with a thread of stiffness lingering afterwards. Harry couldn't blame them; the last they'd heard about him was the fact that he'd been dumped by their daughter along with all the reasons why. They didn't know what had come of the night before, yet, only seeing the aftermath of their tear puffed faces and his arms wrapped around her.

Truthfully, Harry wasn't even sure where he stood with (Y/N) at the moment. Promises uttered through sobs after a traumatic event wasn't something he was going to hold her to. Even if he wanted to believe she was still in love with him and wanted to be with him like she'd said last night. 

Armed with paperwork and parents at her side, (Y/N) nodded to the nurse at the checkout with a plastered smile. Though they were still clear on her skin, the cuts and scrapes she'd earned in her accident didn't look so bad when she smiled with light in the eyes. 

Though he was still a bit too far away, he could hear the mumblings of a quiet conversation happening between (Y/N) and her parents. He was sure she was going to go home with them, and sort out everything else that couldn't be helped with a night at the hospital, but he'd wait until he knew she was safe before he'd leave himself. 

He watched from the corner of his eye, giving them privacy, though he could see (Y/N) waving off her parents before stepping towards him. It was a lingering departure, her mother refusing to let go too readily, though she eventually resigned herself to head down the hallway towards the bank of elevators with her husband and her daughter's paperwork. 

(Y/N) took shy steps towards Harry, empty hands a fiddling mess. 

"You're still here," she said, voice quiet to match the waiting room. 

He shrugged, a small smile having curled the corner of his lips. Was he supposed to remind her that she had asked him to stay, or keep that ex-boyfriend barrier in place? (If it was even still standing, given the way she'd fallen asleep in his arms just hours before).

"You're doing alright?" he asked instead, scanning over the planes of her face as if he didn't have them memorized already. 

She nodded. "Just sore, but I think I'm just going to feel that way for a little while. My head's doing better, though—I still have a headache, but I don't think it's because of the accident." 

Though she ended with a laugh, Harry figured she wasn't sure what to make of last night anymore than he did. 

"'M happy you're alright," he told her, sincerity weaved through his words, "Are your mum and dad taking y'home?" 

"Yeah," she nodded, looking over her shoulder to the couple waiting at the elevators, "I think my mom wants me to stay at their house tonight, but we'll see." 

"Oh, y'don't want to spend hours watching soap opera reruns tonight?" Harry teased, a sly smile touching his lips. The curl only stretched when (Y/N) laughed. 

"Not particularly, but who knows," she said, sparing another glance over her shoulder to see the audience waiting on her, "Um, we talked a lot last night." 

"We did, yeah," he nodded, throat bobbing as swallowed, eyes dropping from her own, "But, we don't—'m not—If y'don't feel the same way as y'did last night, 'm not going to ma—" 

"I do," she cut him off, a bright chirp that matched the spark in Harry's chest. "I do feel the same, I mean. We should probably talk a little more, though, right?" 

A dimple dented Harry's cheek, suddenly feeling incredibly more alive than just a heartbeat before. "Probably." 

"Are you busy tomorrow? In the morning?" 

It didn't take a second thought before Harry was moving his schedule around to keep his morning stark open tomorrow. Those meetings could be moved—maybe even made into an email or a quick phone call. 

"Not for you." 

The blooming smile she gave him was reminiscent of the first time he pulled that flirtation on her. 

"Good," she quipped, "I'll call you tonight or something, then. Maybe we could get breakfast tomorrow?" 

"I'll be there," he cemented, "Jus' tell me when." 

The rewarding light in her eyes made it easy for Harry to forget the last month of his light (except for the night he'd just spent with her, of course). 

"I will," she told him, "Bye, Harry." 

Maybe it was the way she hesitantly stepped towards him, or the shy way she had her lips rolled between her teeth with a budding smile, or the memory of her warmth against his chest, but Harry didn't think before he was collecting her into his arms. (Y/N) melted into his chest on instinct, wrapping her arms around his middle. He could feel the mush of her cheek against the cuff of his shoulder. Despite the sterile scent of the hospital clinging to her, underneath it all was the familiar fragrance of her shampoo and sweet body lotion she somehow never ran out of. 

Drawing away first, (Y/N) only put enough space between them to get a look up at Harry. Though her eyes were bloodshot, bags darkening underneath, and the shadow of her tears lingering in the corners, he'd never seen anything more beautiful than (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"I'll see y'tomorrow." 

"See you tomorrow." 

Long after she untangled herself from his hold, Harry still felt (Y/N)'s warmth long enough to carry him home and keep him company until his phone rang a familiar tone later that night. 

—————

ahhhhhh I never write angst so I hope this turned out all right! thank you sm for reading, and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or anything at all send them in!

Jealous Obsession (Part II) / Sebastian Sallow x Female Reader

Warnings: Not suitable for readers under 18; includes adult content. Explicit sexual content (+18). NSFW. Lubrication, fingering, kissing. All characters are above 18years WordCount: 2.7k Summary: Weeks have passed since your heated encounter with Sebastian in the bathrooms during the Yule Ball, and you’ve been doing everything to avoid him, desperate to escape the memory of that passionate kiss. Now, in a bold move to reclaim your attention, Sebastian waits for you in Professor Figg’s classroom after classes. As you stand before each other the temptation that has haunted you both becomes almost impossible to resist.

"How long do you plan on ignoring me?" A deep, familiar voice broke the silence from behind the door, making your heart race. At this time, there shouldn’t be any students or teachers in Professor Figg’s classroom, let alone someone sitting at his desk, so you definitely weren’t expecting anyone there. As you turned abruptly, you saw Sebastian casually leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, and his dark eyes staring at you with an intensity that seemed to unravel your thoughts.

He was still wearing his uniform, though his cloak was nowhere in sight. His shirt and tie were wrinkled, and his sleeves rolled up: clear signs that he’d been wearing them all day and had loosened them for comfort. The freckled’s hair was slightly disheveled, and his expression showed a mix of fatigue and irritation, as if he’d had an exhausting day and was hoping to end it with this conversation. Despite his raw appearance, he looked particularly attractive.

"Sebastian," you exhaled, still feeling your heart pounding while clutching the books tightly against your chest. "You nearly scared me to death."

"So?" His voice was low and confident, and his eyes held a touch of impatience or something deeper that you couldn’t quite figure.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." You proceeded to place your books on the desk, right next to him, and carefully folded your cloak, deliberately avoiding his gaze as if he wasn’t there: doing exactly what he had mentioned.

"Sure." He crossed his arms, a gesture that made him seem even more imposing, one eyebrow raised as if he was challenging you to offer a propper explanation. You could feel the weight of his gaze consuming you. You sighed, trying to appear annoyed.

"I’m new in fifth year, remember? I have to catch up while you’re off having fun with Ravenclaw’s." You tried to sound casual, but the irritation in your sarcasm was evident. A playful, teasing smile appeared on his lips. "Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?"

"I’ve been watching you." His words wrapped around you like a dangerous caress as his eyes gleamed with darkness. "Since that night, you’ve been coming to this classroom every night after dinner, and it struck me as odd, considering Professor Figg’s day is long over."

"You’ve been following me?" You tried to sound irritated, but your voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

"I’ve been trying to talk to you since then, but all you’ve done is ignore me."

He was right. Weeks had passed since that night, and neither of you had dared to confront the issue. Your evasion had been a desperate attempt to dodge the conversation, or worse, to avoid admitting how much it had affected you. Every night you stayed awake, haunted by the memory of his passionate kiss and how he lifted you with eagerness, pressing his hips against yours, replaying the scene over and over in your mind. Your cheeks burned with a fierce blush at the thought, and you shook your head, trying to erase the image.

But confronting him would force you to face the reality of what had happened and reveal the emotional chaos he had stirred in you with an intensity you barely understood and even less wanted him to discover. The idea of him realizing how deeply he had impacted you was unbearable; it was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take, so you continued with your tasks as if nothing had happened.

"Are we really going to go over this again?" You sighted again.

"Are you jealous?" he murmured, his voice a mix of seriousness and playful provocation that, combined with its depth, was almost a purr. You stopped flipping through the pages of your Transfiguration book and looked at him, incredulous.

"Jealous?" You raised an eyebrow, a spark of mockery in your eyes.

"Do you think I don’t know how irresistible I can be to women?" His smile widened as his eyes sparkled with a mix of sarcasm and challenge. That expression made him annoyingly attractive, and you hated how much it affected you.

"Narcissist," you shot back, turning back to your book as if wanting to end the conversation, but the challenge in his eyes sharpened.

Suddenly, with a dull thud, he immediately closed your book in order to focus your attention on him and only him, His torso leaned slightly toward you, and his arm was right in front of you, invading your space and making you even more nervous due to the closeness, while murmuring to you in a seductive tone. 

"And are you really that immune to my charm?" A wave of heat coursed through your body, leaving you torn between irritation and the uncomfortable truth of his words. You couldn’t resist the urge to look at the veins in his worked arms subtly visible as he expected your answer. But you couldn’t let him win. You met his gaze with a fiery, defiant intensity, daring him to back down. 

Despite his relaxed posture, his eyes remained fixed on you with an air of ironic detachment, fully aware of how right he was from the blush that had appeared on your cheeks. A loose strand of hair fell over his forehead, his head slightly tilted to the side as if he was genuinely curious to see where this conversation would lead.

Your lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, loaded with undeniable provocation, and this time it was your eyebrow that raised in a silent challenge.

"Maybe it’s not me who’s jealous," you murmured, stepping forward with deliberate slowness, your gaze locked on his like a predator stalking its prey. You knew you were turning the tables, doing exactly what he had done that night. His exterior remained composed, but you noticed the slight downward movement in his throat that betrayed him. You moved close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. With calculated slowness, your fingers found the knot of his tie, tightening it with a pull before smoothing the fabric of his shirt: a gentle, seemingly innocent gesture that carried a dangerous edge. You leaned closer to reach the collar of his shirt, and with a low, provocative voice, tinged with something dark, you whispered, "Didn’t it bother you to see me with him that night?" The words dripped like poison. "Imagining everything he could have done…"

Before you could finish the sentence, Sebastian moved quickly and desperately. He lunged forward as if wanting to silence you, and with a sharp gasp, you found yourself stumbling backward, your back colliding with the hard wood of the desk where he had been moments before. His body leaned forward, trapping you, his hands planted on either side of the desk, caging you in a way that made every breath feel heavier. His presence filled the room, every detail sharpening: his scent, the warmth of his body so close, the tension in his muscles.

For a moment, you hesitated, but you quickly regained control, meeting his gaze with a defiant attitude that teetered on the edge of control. You planted your palms on the desk, forcing yourself to remain slightly upright. His eyes, burning with an almost feral hunger, roved over you, devouring you inch by inch with a twisted smile on his lips. You hated what his arrogance did to you.

He moved dangerously close to your ear, so close you could feel his breath on your neck, and at the same time, you noticed a soft touch on your waist, deceptively teasing, a caress that made you crave something rougher, something like that night. Then, with a purr so low it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered

"Do you really think I’d let anyone else touch like I would?" His lips found your earlobe, grazing it with agonizing slowness. Your stomach tightened, and something low within you began to burn. His teeth briefly caught that erogenous spot on your ear with the lightest bite, intensifying the wave of heat coursing through you, and your breath hitched as a soft, involuntary sound you hadn’t meant to give him escaped your lips at that touch. You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, fully aware of what he was doing to you.

At that moment, you knew the game had changed. It was no longer about who could hold out the longest, but about a battle for control, who would give in first, who would surrender. And with every inch of space between you evaporating, both of you knew the answer was dangerously close.

He pulled back just enough to lock his eyes onto yours, and when your gazes met, a shiver ran through his body at the sight of the desire reflected on your face. Your chin slightly tilted downward forced you to look up at him from an angle that was, at the very least, provocative, while your lips parted. Your breath was fast and ragged, and the extreme closeness of his body against yours made you feel something hard growing in his trousers. You smiled wickedly, which caused that to press even more awkwardly against you.

You both knew exactly the effect you had on each other, but neither of you was willing to stop this game, fueled by lust, which only intensified with each new reaction.

He leaned in again, this time to capture your neck, licking painfully slowly, continuing his game. A stifled breath escaped your lips at the feel of his hot tongue on your skin.

Without letting go of your neck, you felt his fingers start to slide gently up the underside of your thigh, stroking upward with wild slowness that sparked a desperate need for contact. Your breathing became even more ragged with every movement. He abandoned your neck to look back at you and with a sharp movement, he gripped your thigh firmly and lifted one of your legs onto the desk, leaving you completely exposed to him, never breaking eye contact. His lips were slightly parted, and his gaze was fixed on you, feeding off of your reactions to his touch and seeking to demonstrate exactly what he had mentioned.

In that exposed position, he continued to caress your thigh, causing your skin to tingle at the touch of his calloused hands, a reminder of his hard physical labor. You decided not to look away from his eyes, aware of what your reactions were provoking in him. You could feel the bulge in his crotch grow at the touch of your other leg, and as he pressed it tighter against you, he took the opportunity to rub even harder against you, intensifying his caresses. The anticipation was tantalizing you.

His hand reached up the skirt of your uniform and with a gentle movement he pulled the fabric aside to gain greater access to your nether region. With extreme gentleness he caressed your sensitive area above your underwear with two fingers, exploring your sensitivity. You exhaled softly at the surprise of the touch, without taking his gaze from yours, and your skin tingled.

He smiled softly as he brought his fingers into your line of sight, inching them closer to your lips. Without breaking eye contact, you parted your lips, welcoming his fingers and moistening them. His erection pressed against you, desperate to break free, while he guided those fingers downward. With utmost care, he pulled aside the fabric of your underwear, determined not to lose the slickness on his fingers. A breathy moan escaped you as his fingers found your most sensitive spot, tracing slow, deliberate circles that made your abdominal muscles tighten. A hungry gleam sparked in his eyes, his lips slightly parted, entirely focused on your response to his touch. Uncontrollable moans slipped from your lips as he set a languid rhythm, melting you into a wave of pleasure.

You broke that intense eye contact only when your head fell back completely, a deep, shuddering exhale escaping your lips as you felt his middle finger sliding slowly into your wet heat. You couldn’t help but notice the satisfied smile spreading across his face at how eager you were.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a sultry caress against your skin. “I want to watch you while I touch you.” You locked your gaze with his again, and your breath caught as you saw the bulge in his pants straining painfully against his clothes, pressing closer to you.

He established a relentless rhythm inside you, each thrust echoing the melody of your own moans, building a tension that left you breathless. It was only when he slid in a second finger that the overwhelming pleasure inside you surged beyond control, setting your senses ablaze.

“Ah, Sebastian…” You clutched his shoulders, desperately trying to contain the overwhelming pleasure surging within you, as if you could no longer bear to remain in that position. But your grip only drove the brunet to intensify his movements, his thumb drawing tight circles on your most sensitive spot. Heat flooded your cheeks as he leaned closer to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I love the way my name sounds on your lips,” he purred, before returning to tease your earlobe with wet kisses that made you tremble against him. Watching you in such a vulnerable state only ignited his hunger and desperation for you. “I want to fuck you so hard, darling.”

“Do it,” you breathed, your voice emerging as a pleading sigh, thick with longing and desire.

“I won’t do it here.” A flicker of disappointment crossed your eyes, and he seemed to catch it, leaning in closer as he continued, “I want to fuck you somewhere I can hear you scream for my name.” A wave of heat pooled in your core, your mind swirling with desire at his words. His fingers plunged in and out, expertly circling your clit, each movement igniting a delicious wave of pleasure that swelled and intensified with every gentle stroke.

You felt an overwhelming pressure build within you, blurring your vision as his rhythmic motions quickened, propelling you closer and closer to ecstasy.

“Ah, Sebastian… I’m gonna—” you moaned, but he silenced you, covering your mouth with his free hand. The sensation of his fingers working so masterfully sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, leaving you trembling and gasping as waves of bliss washed over you, urging you to surrender to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

“Cum, darling” he purred in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. At that moment, everything faded away; you were completely lost in the sensations, feeling every exquisite movement he made. “Come on my fingers.”

Your body began to tremble uncontrollably, and you gripped his shoulders tightly as he continued his insistent rhythm. Waves of electric pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last, overwhelming your senses. Finally, you collapsed into his arms, breath hitching in your throat, your heartbeat pounding fiercely, echoing like a relentless drum in the silence. Each pulse resonated with the aftershocks of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

You stayed in that position, clinging to each other just long enough for you to catch your breath. When he pulled away just a few inches, his gaze sought yours, as if the contact wasn't enough. Then, without warning, his lips met yours, this time with a disconcerting softness, the complete opposite of the ferocity of their previous touch. Exhaustion overcame you, but the kiss, slow and full of need, swept you away, making you melt completely in his arms. You opened your lips to let in his tongue, which this time was extremely light compared to the kiss from that night. Your lips joined with a slowness that, rather than being frustrating, was an attempt to enjoy something you had never allowed yourselves and wanted it to never end.

When he broke away at last, his hands adjusted your hair and tightened the fabric of your skirt, but his eyes were still fixed on yours, filled with that mixture of emotions he could barely contain. He seemed to be debating internally, until, in a voice laden with frustration and something that felt like a confession, he murmured:

“I hate to imagine that anyone else could have you like this”

Okay, this is the first time I do a sexual explicit shot, and I personally feel quite satisfied. Wanting to keep learning to do it better. I hope you like it, and please be patient with me as I continue to try! It actually makes me want to make a whole fanfic about this hahaha A special mention to these beautiful souls who supported me and specifically asked me to tag them for the second part; I hope I lived up to the occasion! @dragonstoneshortcake @katking0943 @insidemyimaginationn

<3<3<3

Traitor-The Present (Harry Styles au- Mafia!Harry x reader)

Chapter Seven

Synopsis:- y/n gets back glimpses of the past and tries to piece them together with the help of her once best friend, Oliver, who's somehow sure that she's going to find a way out of the mess she's in. Meanwhile, Harry fights with his own emotions to make a decision. He has to choose one. The love of his life or the gang.

Word count: 7.2K

Warnings: Blood, violence, smoking, alcohol, gang related talk, guns, fighting, killing. Smut. Spitting, oral(f receiving), fingering, praise, dirty talk.

A/N:- Here it is finally, the last part to Traitor-The Present! If you're new and wish to check out this story, you can read the whole series right here. Please like and re-blog to support me. Happy reading:)

______________________________________________

y/n wakes up with her heart racing out of her chest. Her dream had finally shown her a little more. It was just another glimpse, but now she knew Harry wasn’t lying. She really was there with him that night and she was trying to kill him. She had the same question Harry had, why?

The only person who knew the answer to that was herself. She felt so angry, she wanted to pull out her hair and scream at her brain for letting her fall into this mess.

"We're here."

Oliver had driven her to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. There no other buildings, people or even trees, around it. All that she could see was stretches of barren land surrounding the warehouse. Oliver opens the door, motioning for her to get out. 

"W-Where are we?", she asks him.

"Your place to stay for the night. Harry wants to keep you here until he figures out what to do with you.", Oliver says, keeping his hand on her arm as he ushers her to walk. She realized how exhausted she was. It was like she could crumble to the floor any minute.

"How nice of him.", she mutters, and Oliver gives her a look, opening the door of the warehouse and rushing her in, before closing the door behind him.

"A few men will stand guard outside, to make sure you don't escape, but no one's going to come inside except me.", Oliver takes a small key out of his pocket. "I'm going to remove your cuffs. Harry's order was to keep you in cuffs, and not give you an ounce of water or food, but I'm not so evil."

She sighs in relief as the handcuffs click and they're removed. She rubbed her bruised wrists and looked around at the little space. It was so dark. Not even a single light bulb. She figured it was a place where they held people hostage. There were a few sheets in a corner and a pillow.

"There's a toilet there.", Oliver points out, and she crinkles her nose. Everything was so small.

"Why couldn't he just kill me already?", she mumbles, and opens the tap, washing her face with the cold water.

Oliver prefers to ignore her and looks outside the window, before pulling down the shades. "So? Do you have a plan?"

"Unless it involves you getting me out of here, no.", she says, tying her hair up into a bun, and then laying the sheets on the floor. She sits over the sheets although they didn't do much to stop the cold from spreading through her body.

"Why do you care, anyway?", she snaps at Oliver.

"I told you why, already.", Oliver sighs, crouching down to meet her eyes. "I will take a bullet for you, Reagen. Even if you don't know who you are."

The name didn't sound so foreign anymore.

"I know you don't trust me, and I don't blame you.", Oliver says, as she wraps her arms around her knees and looks at him. "I can't get you out of here. Harry will know in an instant, he has eyes everywhere. He'll just have both of us killed. But you're a fucking warrior, Reagen."

A warrior? She didn't feel like one. "Make a plan, you have time. Be smart, don't get killed."

She opens and closes her mouth, then someone knocks on the door. Oliver looks through the keyhole before opening it. "No one saw me getting the food, perimeter's going to be covered soon. They're on the way from Marco's now."

"Good job, Sam. Keep guard.", Oliver takes the parcel from the other girl's hands. "Yes boss."

He shuts the door and hands y/n the parcel and a bottle of water. "Food and water."

"Won't you get in trouble if Harry gets to know?", she asks, but opens it. She was starving.

"Nah, he won't know."

He cracks a small smile as she gulps down the bottle of water. The food was some sort of flavored rice with meat. It was delicious.

She wanted to tell him about what she remembered from the dream, but she still had some trust issues. So she thought to keep it to herself, for now.

Oliver took the empty container and bottle with him. "I won't be coming inside now. If it's urgent, knock on the door three times, alright?"

"Okay.", she nods. "Oliver?"

He turns back, and she gives him a small smile. "I can see why we were best friends. Thank you."

"Treat you with respect is the least I can do for everything you've done for me, Reagen.", Oliver says, and goes out, locking the door.

y/n wipes her tears, sitting there alone in the dark. She had to think like Reagen, even though she didn't have the memories back. Oliver was right, she had to be smart and get out of this mess. She had no will to live but she wasn't going to die in the hands of these horrible people.

_____________________________________

Harry was angry.

All he could see was red, wherever he looked. He had been through enough crap and he couldn't take anymore. His whole childhood was a nightmare. After he had killed his father and put his childhood behind him, he should have just lead a normal lifestyle of a doctor. But no, he met the gang, and he loved doing their side jobs. They were the only people who recognized his various talents and coached him with more.

Then came Reagen. Harry still remembers the memory of meeting her.

Harry was going through some files of Dante's, able to access them because he had hacked into their system. He had no idea who Dante was, or what he did to their gang, all he was told, was to hack into some important files. Harry couldn't even figure out if those were the right ones, he was new to all of this. 

"Is it done, Harry?", Luke Alexander asks him as he walks over to where Harry was sitting beside two other guys, who were also typing away on their computers.

"Yes, um, is this the one?", Harry asks, as Luke leans to see. Harry tells him about the details in the files, and Luke grins, patting his shoulder. "Nice job. Reagen will be delighted, that's some good information there."

"Thanks..uh what exactly did Dante do?", Harry asks Luke, and the older man sighs, running his hand over his salt and pepper beard. "A lot of horrible things. You don't want to know. Can you transfer all these files to this drive?"

Luke gives him a pen drive and Harry nods. "Sure."

"Luke! There's a problem.", he hears someone shout from the door way. Luke patted Harry on the back before he left. Harry was a newbie to the gang, so he hadn't met Reagen yet. Luke was whom he communicated with. He joined the gang as a doctor, so that's what he did. He took care of members who came back from missions injured. When he got bored, he made hacking chips, sorted through files, and did the technical work for the gang since he was good at that sort of thing.

But Harry had a lot of pent up anger, and he wanted to get his anger out by fighting, or punching something other than the gym bag. He thought he could go on missions if he joined the gang, but they don't take just everyone. Only people who have experience. 

Soon, he hears people shouting and gearing up to go on a mission. Luke was shouting orders. Harry finished copying the files, kept the pendrive safe, grabbed his medical kit and joined the others.

"What's going on?", he asks one of the guys.

"Reagen called for backup. They think she might be in trouble."

Harry nods, and hopes no one sees him going along, but Oliver saw him, who was throwing guns into their truck. "Where are you going? We have Abbot with us.", he says. Abbot was another doctor in the gang, he was the one going with them on missions because of his experience. He can fight as well. 

"I can help.", Harry tells him. Oliver narrows his eyes at him, thinking. "I really want to. I'll stay safe and help anyone who gets hurt. Please."

"Fine, your own death wish. Get in."

Harry let a small smile escape before he got in the truck with the others. He hears loud explosions and gun shots as they reach the location. Everyone runs out holding their weapons, to different directions into the old building. Harry followed Abbot's lead. They helped their people who got wounded, and got them out of trouble.

Abbot and Harry were helping a guy who got shot in his abdomen, and was losing blood quickly. Harry suspected it might have pierced an internal organ. 

"More lap pads.", Abbot mumbles, gloved hands covered in blood, as he holds pressure. Just as Harry turned to grab some more lap pads, he saw a guy holding a baseball bat, right behind Abbot. 

"Abbot watch out!", Harry yelled, and one of Abbot's hand moved to his gun and fired a shot at the guy before he swung the bat. "Fucking prick.", Abbot curses, turning back to his friend, bleeding out. They both hear a scream coming from down the hall. 

"I'll go check that out. You should take him to the truck, quick.", Harry tells Abbot. 

"Stay safe.", Abbot tells him, and Harry nods, getting his bloody gloves off before walking towards the scream. Harry threaded carefully, trying to figure out from which direction he heard the scream from.

"On your knees, hands in the air!"

Harry freezes as he hears it from behind him. He does as told, as the man has a gun pointed at him. "I might make your death less painful if you tell me why that bitch was here.", the man seethes, pressing the gun to Harry's forehead.

"I don't know anything.", Harry said, staying still, his heart beating fast. 

"Well then I just have to-"

Harry closes his eyes and flinches as hears the gun shot, but the bullet didn't go through him. Harry opens his eyes slowly, and sees a girl looking down at the now dead guy in disgust.

"Looks ugly with or without a bullet through his fucking forehead." She looks up at Harry. "You okay?"

Harry had never seen someone so strikingly beautiful. Long hair falling down her shoulders, beautiful eyelashes hiding her striking eyes. She was wearing a wine red dress that hugged her curves, exposing her collarbones and smooth legs. Red heels covered her feet. 

"You're wondering why I'm dressed like this.", the girl says, eyes going around the room to check for other threats, her arms held out, still pointing the gun. That wasn't Harry's first thought, but now that she mentioned it, he nods. 

"Well my idea was to seduce that ugly lame excuse of a man while I try to get some files we need." She lowered the gun, eyeing Harry now. He was curious to know about what went wrong, he could see how any man would fall for the woman's charm. Now she stood in front of him with messy hair, a busted lip and bruised knees, but he still thought she was the most attractive woman he's seen in his life. 

"You're injured.", is the first thing he says. She chooses to ignore his remark. "You would be dead, just like him with a fucking bullet through your head if I didn't get here when I did. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I um, I'm the doctor with the gang.."

"I know, you're the newbie right? Doctor by profession, hacker by hobby.", she says, sighing as they hear a gunshot from a meter away. She would usually run towards it, but something drew her to the doctor. She wanted to know more about him. He had an air of mystery lingering around him.

"I can do a lot more than hacking and saving people.", Harry mumbles.

"Is that why you're here on a mission? We don't send newbies out unless it's an emergency, which this wasn't. I almost had it under control. I told Luke just to send a few men.", she mutters to herself, wincing as she looks down at her ankles in the heels. "Bloody hell."

"Reagen Jones.", Harry understands who she is finally, putting everything together. 

"One and only.", she gave him a crooked little smile as he finally walks away from the dead body. "Now come on, Doctor, let's get you to safety. I can't risk getting my people hurt."

"It's okay when you're hurt?", Harry asks, following her as she walks out of the room, looking left and right bringing her gun up again. "I've had worse, doc.", she whispered and her head snapped to the left as she heard footsteps but it was only Oliver.

"He fled. We checked the whole place, no traces of him, or-" He gives Harry an annoyed look. "You know what.", he tells Reagen. She sighed, shaking her head. "I should have been more careful."

"Don't blame yourself, it was dangerous. You did good.", Oliver said, squeezing her shoulder. "Go to the car, I'm gonna look over once again. This guy getting in your way?" 

He looked at Harry like he was an annoying child. Reagen let out a small laugh, and Harry wished he could hear more of it. "He's fine. Be careful, Olie."

Oliver nodded, walking past them up the stairs to the next floor, shouting orders to their men. "Why did you join the gang, doc?", Reagen asks Harry as they walk out of the ruined building. Harry thought he would be fazed after seeing men groaning in pain on the floor, bleeding and some of them already dead, but it didn't affect him as much. 

"My father tortured my mom when I was little and he'd beat me up. He was an alcoholic, good for nothing, never a father to me. He abused my mom, and one day when I wasn't there he-"

Harry stops talking as his fingers curl into his palm, eyes blazing in anger. Reagen turns back to look at him, and he releases a slow breath. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it.", she says, nodding towards the car. A man was already opening the door for her. "Ride with me."

Harry got in the backseat with her, watching as she wrapped herself in a jacket, closing her eyes for a moment as she let her head rest. Harry thought to remain quiet, even though he had questions. What if he wouldn't see or get to talk to Reagen up close like this again?

"You tried your best to protect your mother, doc. You made sure your dad got what he deserved. I'm sure your mom's still looking down at you from above.", Reagen turned to look at him. Harry wanted to believe her. He should have killed that asshole before he got a chance to do that to his mother.

"I'll talk to Luke about putting you on missions, it'll help with releasing some of that anger.", she says, and his eyes light up. "You will?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Killing your father was out of pure torment, but in some situations like today, we might be forced to take lives. Are you up for that?"

"Yes.", he answers immediately. "I thought killing him would feel better, but I still stay up at night without being able to sleep. I need to get it all out. I want to learn to defend myself, I couldn't when my father hit me. Will you teach me?"

Reagen didn't mingle with newbies, neither did she interact with anyone other than close people in the gang. They made sure her orders were carried out. But there was something about this boy she couldn't shake away. "Sure. What's your name?"

"Harry.", Harry answers. "Harry Styles."

"Harry?"

Romania enters the room to talk to him. Harry was sitting on the chair behind his desk, cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other hand. Romania had just been back from Marco's place, and she looked alright, except for a bruise on her arm. She was pressing a cloth to hold pressure to it.

"We think we got a lead on Tony. Hans went through Marco's files. He's planning to meet Omar next week.", Romania tells him. Harry was not interested. Yes, Tony was their number one enemy and he was the one person he wanted to tear apart with his own hands, but right now, he could only think about Reagen, or y/n, or whatever she calls herself.

Harry played their stupid memory game hoping that she would get her memories back eventually, or at least make her drop the act if that's what she was doing. But Harry was clear about that now. It wasn't an act. Even the intimate moments they shared didn't bring her memories back. He felt so hurt.

"Um, Harry?"

He looks up at Romania. "What happened?", he asks, nodding towards the blood seeping into the cloth she was pressing to it.

"Oh, fucker got a cut on me before I shot him down, could you take a look at it?"

"Sit."

Harry gets up to grab his medical kit. Romania sits on the edge of his desk, studying her friend. "Are you thinking about Reagen?"

Harry nods, washing his hands before snapping on some gloves. "I get it, you were close to her. But, you agreed to let her go if this also failed.", Romania reminds him, as Harry grabs a pair of scissors, cutting through her sleeve so he could see the injury. Harry only wanted to cut open the cloth that covered her arm, but she used her good arm to shrug off the rest of the material, leaving her upper half in just a bra. Harry focuses on the injury, much to Romania’s dismay.

"She's too dangerous! What if Tony gets to her?"

"I'm aware, Ro.", Harry mutters, pressing on the broken skin making Romania flinch. "Don't tell me you had a change of heart and you're not going to kill her.", she says.

Harry grabs a bottle of antiseptic. "I'm still deciding."

Romania rolls her eyes, hissing as he cleans her wound with the antiseptic. "She's a vicious monster, that's what she is. First, she brought you under her charm, then she planned to kill you, take our money and destroy our empire. I don't know why you trusted her in the first place."

Harry didn’t say anything, he reached for a needle and some surgical thread to close the cut with some stitches. "It was all part of some big plan. As much as I'd love to know as well, she's not going to remember, Harry. At least let me have my way with her. I'll have her in the basement for one day and she'll start singing like a bird-ah!"

Harry sows her skin together, looking up to give her a glare. "You will not touch her. I can do that too, but it's not fair to torture something out of a person who doesn't remember anything about it in the first place."

"She's playing you, Harry.", Romania sighs. "If you don't kill her, you're going to let her win. If her ties are with Tony, then we're pretty much done for. She is banking on you. She knows you can't kill her. She'll get away, Harry. You've assigned Oliver to her! Don't you remember how close they were? He'll let her escape!"

"I trust Oliver.", Harry finishes the stitches. He grabs a bandage to lay over it. "You're done.", he says, taking his gloves off.

"Thank you.", Romania mumbles and reaches for him. She moved her hands up Harry’s neck, weaving one hand into his Harry. "Harry, I'm telling you this because I care about you. I know your emotions are messed up because of your last month together again, kissing her, fucking her-"

"-Romania.", Harry warns.

"-You wish you could go back to that.", Romania continues, stroking his bottom lip with her thumb. "The truth is, you don't need her. There are so many better women who will be loyal to you. Who'll die for you, who will do anything for you.” 

She got so close, her breasts were brushing against Harry’s chest and almost popping out of her bra. But, he didn’t feel anything. The only thing he could think of was how good Reagen could make him feel.

“Oh fuck, Harry..”, she moans as she lets her head hit back against the pillow, her hands in his hair as he laps his tongue over her clit.

She tasted so sweet, so juicy. So gratifying was her flavor that he wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled her closer to his face, burying his mouth in her delicious folds. The sting of his scalp as she tugged on his hair, letting out beautiful sounds as he pleasured her, only made him more excited. 

“You like that, baby?”, he looks up at her with a grin, her juices dripping down from his lips. 

“F-Feels so good, Harry, please, please..”, she begs, her hands pushing his head back down as her breathing gets heavier with her release being close. He flicked his tongue across her and inserted two eager fingers into her slick center. Her moan rose to a pleasure filled shriek, and he felt her walls close tight around his fingers. 

“Let go, darling, come on, coat my fingers and my mouth, I want every bit of it, give it to me..”, he hums against her skin and watches her unfold with awe. She looked divine. Murmurs of his name leaving her lips, eyes rolled back in pleasure. 

She lay sprawled with a content smile on her lips and he pressed little kisses to her skin, starting from her stomach and finally reaching her lips. “Where’d you learn that? It was like, out of this world, good, you know?”

“Wait till I’m inside you, love.”, he whispered, stroking some of her hair back from her forehead, still hovering over her. She grins, moving her hand to stroke his rock hard dick, making him groan. “Oh yeah? Show me then.”

She gasped as he slid into her easily moistened sex, letting out a loud moan. “You feel that, darling? Feel how you fit around my cock?”

She wasn’t able to answer as he grunted, pulling his hips back only to plunge them forward, fucking her with hard, deliberate thrusts. She opened her legs wider and relished the feeling of his shaft ramming so deeply. 

“Tell me how good it feels, baby.”, he pants, moving a hand to squeeze around her right breast. 

“S-So good, s-so fucking good.” His thrusts get faster and she grabs his shoulders, her mind going blank with pleasure. “Who do you belong to?”, he asks.

She might be the one that makes grown men quaking in their boots in the outside world, but when she’s with Harry? She just wants him to take control. To mark her up and to make her cry out of pleasure. He loved the way her body would react to his touch. He takes pride in knowing that he’s one of the very few people she trusts. 

Harry moved his hand on her breast to her jaw, his fingers pressing her mouth open. “Answer me.”

“Y-You. I’m all yours, Harry.”, she managed to say and opened her mouth further, sticking out her tongue. “Want me to spit in your mouth, baby? Such a dirty girl.”

He leaned forward before collecting his spit and aiming it inside her mouth, landing it on her tongue. She moans, swallowing it. “Good girl.”, he praises, bringing his lips over hers for a kiss. She kissed him hungrily. His tongue entered her mouth as his cock penetrated her. 

“I-I’m close..”, she whimpers, biting down on his lip. 

“Me too, sweetheart, c-can’t hold on much longer. Y-You feel so fucking perfect.”

They hold each other through their highs, and continue to do so as they come down from it. “Harry?”, she whispers, kissing his cheek.

“Mm sunshine?” He looks up at her, giving her a tired, lazy grin. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Romania’s face coming inches closer to his face and his lips made him jerk back to the reality that he wished was just a really bad nightmare. Five years and the memories he had with her were still so painful to remember, etched into his brain like he wouldn’t ever forget any detail.

“She’s done so much to you, Harry. Let the whore rot in hell.”, Romania seethed.

Harry tangles his hand in her hair, leaning down making her think he was going to kiss her, but he yanks her head back by the grip on her hair, making her hiss in pain. “Shut the fuck up, you jealous bitch.”

She grins despite the pain, one snap of his wrist and she would be dead. 

“Get out before I kill you.", Harry mutters, letting her go. The only reason why he hadn’t done so already was because her father was important, and she did her job decently. 

“Yes sir.”, she hums and hops off the chair. “You have to do something about her soon though.”

Harry picks up his whiskey glass again, emptying it down his throat before taking a swing from his cigarette. Even though Romania annoyed the crap out of him, she was right. Harry had to put Reagen behind him, or he would never move on. He had given her enough of his time. It was time to end it all.

"I'll do what I need to do.”

________________________________________

y/n couldn't sleep. She racked her brain trying to remember things about her past life, that might be the only thing that could save her. She didn't know how long she's going to be here, or how long Harry wants to keep her here. The only plan she could come up with was making a run for it, but she knew it wouldn't get her far. Someone would chase her down, or they could just fire a bullet at her.

Her thoughts shifted to Harry. She was supposed to be mad at him, supposed to forget him, but she couldn't. Everything around her was lies, but she couldn't believe that the time she spent with Harry in these four weeks was a lie. It wasn't, right? He did deceive her, and he was playing her when she thought she was playing him, but whatever happened between them was real. Their feelings were real. That beautiful ring he had picked out, that was for her. Why couldn't she remember their memories together?

y/n wipes away her silent tears as she stares up at the ceiling in the dark. Pitch dark. Eventually, her tired eyes took a break.

y/n wakes up to Oliver shaking her awake. "So? You have a plan?"

The usually composed Oliver appeared a bit distraught. She was going to bring her hands up to rub her eyes, when he handcuffs them behind her back. "Hey!", she protests.

"Shh, there are a lot of people outside.", Oliver mutters. "And I'm supposed to have you in handcuffs, sorry. Bad news, Harry decided to kill you, he's on his way now."

"Oh great.", she says, not surprised. "Tell him to just hurry it up."

Oliver glares at her. "You still don't remember anything?"

She shakes her head.

Oliver's eyes scan her face.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Oliver. You've been good to me, thank you.", she gave him a small smile. Oliver shakes his head. "I still believe in you."

Just then, they hear knocks on the door. Oliver gets it, and Romania comes in, her heels clicking, head held high. "There she is."

She crouches down, and y/n grunts in disgust, trying to pull away when Romania strokes her hair. "Hey darling, how are you"

"Get away, bitch.", she muttered, and Romania giggles. "How sweet. The once almighty Reagen is now at our mercy. Are you sure you want that to be your last words?"

"Romania, what do you want?", Oliver folds his arms across his chest.

"Oh nothing, just came to say goodbye to her. If Harry has any difficulty pulling the trigger, I'll do it for him.", she says, running her manicured nails across y/n's cheek. "I don't understand what Harry sees in you."

"You're never going to get him.", y/n answers back, and Romania's eyes darken in anger, her hand moving to wrap around y/n's neck, choking her. "You can watch from your grave, Reagen. Harry will see clearly once the filth is removed. You will die today, your chances are all over."

"That's enough, Pelt.", Oliver snaps. Romania lets her go and she coughs, trying to breathe. Romania stands up. "Looks like Harry's here!"

The white cedan was pulling up outside. Romania walked out to greet him. y/n watches as Harry steps out, he was wearing a black shirt, with black pants and boots. The top few buttons were undone, so she could see half of his butterfly tattoo, and other ones. The silver cross chain hung from his neck, rings decorating his hands.

His eyes fall on her as he reaches the door. "Give me a minute with her.", his deep voice rumbles to Romania and Oliver. They both stepped out, and Harry comes in, closing the door.

"Harry.", y/n says softly, flinching as she tried to sit up against the wall. "Sleep well?"

Harry crouches down just like Romania had, so he can meet her eyes. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, do I even know you anymore?", y/n whispers. Harry's eyes soften as he reaches a hand out to fix her hair after Romania's assault. "You know me better than anyone else, y/n." He chuckles to himself. "Guess I've got used to calling you y/n."

"Nice acting by the way, couldn't tell yesterday. Made me a total fool."

Harry sighs. "Everything I did was for you-"

"-No, it was for you.", she cuts him off.

"Wouldn't you do the same thing if you were in my place?", Harry asks. "I lived holding on to the thought of having you back with me for five years, Reagen. I loved you that much."

He looked so handsome. His gorgeous eyes, his pink lips and his brown curls. She wanted to run a hand through it. "J-Just get it done with Harry, whatever."

Harry takes her face, his thumbs wiping her tears away, his own eyes watering. "Please, sunshine. Don't make me do this. Please tell me you remember something."

y/n hated to break his heart, but there was nothing she could do. "I-I'm sorry, Harry.", she croaked, and he pressed her face to his chest. She took in his comforting, masculine scent. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her. Then everything would feel alright. Everything they've been through flashes through her mind as he presses his lips to her forehead.

He pulls her away, his thumb rubbing over her bottom lip. " I promised you a long time ago that we would find your mom. I know you don't remember, but just know that I will find her."

Her mom? She thought she didn't have a family. Reagen didn't have a family, right? Then her painting comes into her mind. The painting Harry was absorbed in. The woman she painted, whom she thought would be her mother. She's real?

Harry didn't allow her time to ask more questions. He presses his lips on to hers, kissing her one last time. This was a different kind of a kiss, not one that leads to something, but a hard, painful one. It felt like he was putting all his emotions into that kiss, letting it all flow into her.

She was wondering about what to make for dinner when she heard the door. She looked through the peephole first, seeing Harry and smiled, opening the door.

"Hey there.", she smiles, her heart skipping a beat as his stressed, grumpy face split into a smile. "Hi. I hope it's not too late, wanted to show you something."

"Of course not, come in."

She let Harry inside and locked the door. "I was just gonna start dinner. You're not going before tasting my signature pasta."

Harry follows her into the kitchen, not being able to trap his smile. "I'd love to try some."

She enjoyed his company just as much as he enjoyed hers. She's been spending a lot of time with Harry every day, ever since he joined her during her training. She's used to talking to people only about gang work, but Harry? She talked to him about everything.

They shared a lot of likes and dislikes, he was funny, sweet and charming. He was also a big asset for the gang.

"So? What'd you make?", she asks him, moving around the kitchen to get the ingredients while he leans on the slab, looking at her.

He pulled out a small box from his pocket, opening it to show her a chip.

"Your new creation, doc?"

He nods. "Press this button here before throwing it and everything within a 2 mile radius of where it lands will be destroyed."

She doesn't question the working, knowing by now that it's no joke. She raises her eyebrows. "Impressive. I'm sure it'll be useful, keep it safely."

Harry nods, putting it back into his pocket like it was harmless. "You okay, Harry?", she asks. Harry usually got into destruction mode when he was anxious, frustrated and angry. He only told these things to her.

He sighs, nodding slowly. "Just one of those days, I guess."

She squeezed his arm. "It's okay, by the end of the night, you're gonna be feeling better."

"I'm already feeling better. Being around you..I don't know what it is.", he admits.

She smiles, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Yeah? Tell me more, I'm liking the sound of this."

Harry chuckles, amused by her. "Put me to work boss, wanna help you cook."

"You wanna cut the peppers?"

"Sure."

They spent the entire time chatting as they cook together. Then Harry wanted to show off his pro chef skills, wanting to flip the mushrooms in the pan. Of course some of it went flying out and she scolded him while he laughed, apologizing with a soft kiss to her temple, making her smile.

She then brought a spoon to his lips, wanting him to taste the sauce. She watched his face as lips wrapped around the spoon, letting her feed it to him.

"Mm, that's really good." Harry smacks his lips together and she grins. "It is?"

He nods, giving her a side hug as he offers to continue stirring the sauce. "How are you so good at everything you do?"

She blushes, leaning to his side. "I try." She looks up at him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Loads." He pulls her closer. "Thanks, sunshine."

"Sunshine?", she giggles at the nickname.

He nods, smiling back at her. "Trust me, you can be terrifying if you want to be, but I love this side of you. The happy, care free side of you. You're healing me, you're helping me cope with everything I've been through and the first thought I have when I wake up in the morning is about you. So yes, you're my sunshine."

Her heart melted as she turned him around so he was facing her and she wraps her arms around his neck. Harry dropped his head to her forehead, keeping the spatula away to move his hands to her hips.

“Can I kiss you?”, she asks, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip.

Harry smirks, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Only if you want to.”

“And you don’t?”

He grins, closing the space between their lips as he moves a hand to the back of her neck. She felt like her soul had returned to water, like every part of her that came from a dead star became alive. He tasted so sweet, his hand pressing against her skin, his breath fanning over her face. 

“Oh I’ve been waiting to do that for so long.”, he whispers against her lips before kissing her again.

That was their first kiss.

Harry's lips pull away from hers, just as the memory fades away. "I love you, and I'll always love you.", he whispered.

"I love you too, Harry.", she spoke without a tremor now. Almost like the kiss had given her some strength, her fear was melting away. Harry got up without another word, and started walking away.

"Harry!", she calls.

"I'm sorry..I-I can't.", he heard her mumble, before he kicked the door open instead of just unlocking it. Harry walks to Sania and says something to her that splits her face into a grin. "Yes boss, I got it."

"Harry, come on! I asked you first!", Romania whines.

He chose to ignore her, and got in his car again. The car drives away. Great, now she's back with the lunatics, and Oliver.

"Get up and come out, it's easier for us to clean the mess outside.", Sania was coming to her, and grabs her up by her shirt, making her grunt. "Shouldn't get the warehouse dirty!"

Her mom. Her head was aching, as something was trying to come through. Somehow, it was connected to her mom. That night, betraying Harry, killing him, she didn't want to do it.

"Perfect! Is everyone ready to watch the death of the great Reagen? Remember that this is what happens to Traitors!", Romania's voice irritates her while she scans the place. There were around eight men along with Sania and Romania.

Sania points the gun to her forehead. Before she could pull the trigger, y/n jumped up into the air, and kicked her straight in the chest with how much ever strength she could muster. She grinned, that felt good.

"Grab her!", Romania says, taking out her own gun, and all the men rush to her. y/n didn't think, she only fought. It was like muscle memory. She was stronger than she thought. Even with her hands cuffed, she was moving through the men, kicking, and swiftly moving around them, dodging their knives and blades.

Then someone grabbed her around the middle, and she growled, struggling against their grip. He was strong.

"I have her! Romania, shoot!"

It was Oliver. But she felt one of his hands fiddling with the handcuffs, and so she stopped struggling in his grip and with a click they were off. Romania came to her with the gun, Oliver let her go, and she pounced on her like a tiger, sending her down to the ground. Her gun fell out of her hands, and she grabbed it quickly, aiming it at her heart, and she pulled the trigger.

Boom!

The shot was fired. Romania gasps, shuddering as she looks at her chest, soaking blood into her clothes. "You deserved a slow painful death, this will be quick, so be thankful.", she spoke, and she didn't even know where that came from. y/n didn't talk like that. Must be Reagen, she thought. Was she such a badass?

“And remember, Harry was always mine.”, she adds as the life fades away from Romania’s face.

One of the men came at her with a blade, and she ducks down, punching his stomach and grabbing the knife out of his hand as he falls forward. She slashed him with it, and he fell with a thud. Men after men, she took down with the gun in one hand and the knife in the other but she was unscathed. She was fighting like a monster. She took out all her rage and anger out on them.

Next, she was up with Sania. The one whose betrayal hurt more than others. The one she thought was her friend. All the color was draining from Sania’s face and she joined her hands together in apology. "P-Please Reagen, I made a mistake. Please don't-"

She stuck the blade into her stomach in rage. "I thought you were my friend!”

She thought she might feel something as she fell dead in front of her, but she didn’t. She was numb. After all, Sania was going to kill her. She deserved to die.

y/n was rushing on adrenaline, and she looked around at all the fallen bodies, like who's next?

There was a last man standing. Oliver. He put his hands up as she pointed the gun at him, but he was smiling. "So you did have a plan." "Shut up."

He shrugs. Oliver was good. He had helped her. She could trust him. So she lowered the gun. "Are you going to come with me? I have to get out of here."

"I'll be your driver, like old times.", Oliver nods, pointing to a truck. "We'll have to switch cars later, but for now, let's go."

They both get into the car, and Oliver drives away. "So, do you remember everything now?"

"No. Bits.", she sighs, bringing a hand to her forehead. "What do you know about my mother?"

_______________________________________________

Harry was looking outside the window, stuck in a memory lane. It contained so many little fragments of his life with Reagen. The moments he spent with her. Every single moment that he wished he could go back to.

And now, he had just given the order for her to be killed.

Harry's phone rings, it was Luke. Luke was an important player in their little game to get Reagen to remember. They all knew Reagen only had one weakness.

Family.

She would do anything for her family. She has gone to bounds and put her life in danger a million times to find her mother. That's why Luke had to play as her sick uncle.

"Hello.", Harry says into the phone.

"Harry. There's a problem.", Luke sounded breathless on the other side.

"What?"

"Romania and Sania are dead, so are some of our men. I don't know where Oliver is and I can't reach him. Angelo called me, said that Reagen attacked them. She's escaped, Harry. Looks like our old Reagen's back."

Harry's face breaks into a smile as he takes the new information in. Now that, was starting to sound like his old partner. The fearless, powerful, brave, Reagen, who looks beautiful while burning her enemies to the ground. The love of his life.

Harry didn't know if she was now his enemy, or his partner in crime, but he could figure it out. The thought of all of it brought a rush of cold air into his body, of excitement and anticipation. She was like his drug, his ecstasy.

His sunshine.

"What do you want to do?", Luke asks him.

Harry brings the lighter to the cigarette between his lips. He took a long puff from it, and released the smoke, before smiling wide.

"We wait. Reagen likes making the first move."

___________________________________________

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A/N:- Let me know how you guys liked the last part! Left you at a cliffhanger;) I want to thank each one of you for choosing to read my story, it really means a lot to me. Thank you to everyone who liked my story and re-blogged it, I appreciate it so much.

Traitor-The Present has come to an end, now you understand why I named it like that. This is the story of the present. You still haven't read the story of their past.

So, do we want a sequel?