summary: reader storms into peter's apartment, upset over her last tinder date being a complete tool and refusing to eat her out. peter gets a little... distracted.
wc: ~2.1k
cw: ! MDNI ! not full smut, but descriptions of peter being hard, talking about oral (fem!receiving), dry humping, hints of peter being an absoulte munch, swearing, peter getting so embarassed he makes half-jokes to himself about suicide, friends to lovers sexual tension babyyyyyyyyyy
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he didn't mean it. honestly.
in fact, there's nothing peter wanted more in this moment than not to be painfully hard. but here he was, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.
you had let yourself into his apartment with your spare, angrily marching down his hallway already yelling, up in arms about your latest shitty tinder hook up. his bedroom door slammed open, causing him to jump from where he was working at his desk. he looked to you with wide eyes as you continued the rant you'd started upon entering the threshold of his apartment.
"i mean, seriously? i give you the best head of your life, and you return with saying how 'disgusting' going down on me would be? and then you have the audacity to get mad at me when i don't want to fuck you? what the fuck is wrong with the men of new york?!"
you threw yourself down on his bed, frustrated sighs wracking through your chest as you attempted to calm yourself down, hands rough in your hair. peter stared back with bewilderment, and unfortunately, upon the thought of eating you out, an insane hard-on.
it's not like you hadn't talked about sex in the past five years of knowing peter, the two of you told each other everything. peter had just never seen you so... vulgar about it. so frustrated. he knew he needed to come up with a response â hell, he should've a solid thirty seconds ago â but he was currently willing his blood to stay in the upper half of his body, failing miserably as he couldn't fight off images of you spread for him out of his mind.
"what do you think, pete?" your voice snapped him back to earth.
"w-what?"
you gave a shrug, staring down at your lap and thankfully not seeing peter adjust himself and bring a sweatshirt into his own lap.
"i dunno, maybe i'm being the crazy one here. is it so bad to want head in return?" you stared at him expectantly, like you hadn't just asked him the most insane question he'd ever heard.
he shook his head a little too quickly, mentally cringing at how awkward he was being. parker, pull your shit together!
"no," he responded honestly. "i don't think you're being crazy." i think he's crazy for not wanting to.
you gave another heavy sigh, this time your turn to shake your head. "this is the third guy in a row who was appalled i even dare to bring it up. isn't that fucking crazy?"
peter nodded as though he was in a trance, eyes glossy as he stared at you. his reply fell to a whisper, not trusting the pitch of his own voice right now. "fucking crazy."
he held your gaze for a while as you sat in a comfortable silence. maybe for you, peter, however, was looking for any possible exit strategy that could come his way. his mind was going a million miles per hour, rushing thoughts of having you under him keeping him twitching against his sweatpants. he shifted in his seat, a lapse of judgment on peter's end as the sweatshirt in his lap moved against his groin, a sharp exhale falling from his gaped lips as he did everything in his power to hold back a moan.
if you noticed, you didn't let him know, giving him a soft smile as you stood from his bed to walk closer, gaze now heavy on the physics notes sprawled on the desk. you leaned over his shoulder, a hand on the back of his chair to stabilize yourself as you peered down.
"i'm sorry for complaining about my trashy sex life, this looks a thousand times more important. jesus, what even is all this?"
you leaned down further, your chest now brushing against his shoulder blade as you skimmed the papers, breath hot against his ear. normally, your proximity was no issue for peter â you've been best friends for years, touch wasn't foreign. but with his current circumstances, your touch against him was sending his senses into overdrive, and he was going to combust.
"j-just... physics... i-i guess." he stuttered, not daring to move his head a millimeter as your cheek nearly grazed his own.
you gave a gentle chuckle, the sound earning a groan deep in peter's throat before he knew to stop it. "yeah, i could figure out that much, parker. what's up with you? you're being weird."
you pull back slightly to adjust, immediately turning around to sit on peter's knee. again, it was something you'd done hundreds of times before with no other thoughts or implications, but with the sinful chains around his thoughts right now, it only threw him off more. you went to grab the sweatshirt in his lap, hoping to shift onto him more comfortably. he immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.
"no! i-i mean, i'm fine. i'm not being weird." he let go of your hand, crossing his arms and giving you a shrug, his best attempt at coming off nonchalant. his best wasn't good enough.
"yeah right, peter. what's your prob-" while speaking, you had grabbed for the sweatshirt quicker this time, using the momentum to immediately swing your leg over both his thighs to sit in his lap properly. you sat down fully, cheeks instantly flushing pink, "oh."
there were many times in his life when peter thought about ending it all, but none as much as now. he was going to have to either move countries, or jump from the empire state without his web shooters. those were the only two options circling his head as his wide eyes met yours, a red tint taking over his entire upper body.
"i'm so sorry, h-holy shit," he breathed out, grabbing at your hips to lift you off of him so he could get out of here as quickly as possible. you resisted him, though, doing what you could to fight against him and stay firmly planted on his lap. that made him panic even more. because, of course. he wasn't going to have time to kill himself. you were going to kill him first.
"i-i tried to, i don't... i'm so sorry."
you put your hands on his chest, a genuine look of bewilderment splayed across your features. "is that... is this because of me? what i was talking about?"
not only were you going to kill him, you were going to torment him about it first. and he knew he deserved it.
"peteâ"
"i'm so sorry, please let me go, i didn't, iâ"
"pete, listen to me."
"this is so embarrassing, i really didn't mean toâ"
"peter," you let out his name in a voice he hadn't heard before, something torn between a growl and a moan â all while dragging your hips up against him. he gave a shaky exhale at the pressure, the feeling of you rutting against his cock stopping his guilty rambling.
you found his gaze, his pupils blown and irises dark, a direct correlation to the twitching of his cock as you gave him another soft roll of your hips. his hands found your hips again, holding you firmly in place to stop the teasing movement. his brows knit together, geunine confusion plastered across his face.
"what... what are you doing?" he was breathless, chest heaving as he stared back at you. you hesitantly reached a hand to his hair, palm splaying out on his scalp as your thumb traced circles on his temple. even in his worst possible moments, you were there to calm him down. he had absolutely no idea why you weren't yelling at him, or what you were even still doing here, but he wasn't going to fight it. he melted into your touch, and his breathing hitched as you leaned in closer.
"have you always felt this way?" you whispered, breath against his cheeks sending goosebumps across his body.
"felt... what?" he tried to play dumb, despite the fact that you could also feel how excruciatingly hard he was against you. when he daydreamed about confessing he was in love with you, this was never a scenario in his head.
you let your hand graze slowly down the side of his face, fingers coming to trace his sculpted jawline. his breath didn't just hitch at this point, he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working entirely.
"why haven't you ever said anything?" it wasn't angry, it was a genuine question.
he let out a scoff, a hand leaving your hip to scratch the back of his neck, embarrassment covering his features for the hundredth time this evening. "yeah, well. this isn't exactly how you want to tell your best friend you love her."
your eyes widened, and peter's followed, realization of his words hitting him.
"you love me?"
"holy shit, that's, i didn't, oh my god that'sâ"
peter's panic was cut off and replaced with awe as he felt your lips crash against his, a feeling he'd been dreaming of since the day he'd met you back in high school. he immediately reciprocated, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and letting a long overdue moan escape from his lips. you smiled against it, both hands interlocking with those brown curls you'd been dying to run your hands through, just like this.
peter nipped at your bottom lip, earning a sharp gasp from you that allowed his tongue much-needed entry into your mouth. the kiss was nothing short of hungry, years of pent-up feelings being released hot and noisily as peter bruised his lips against yours.
he pulled back sharply, out of breath and looking at you as though you weren't real. "wait, i dont... you...?"
you laughed at the lack of his question, though instantly understanding him. you gave a soft nod, a blush creeping over your cheeks as you brought your hands to cup his face. while the kiss was downright sinful, the way you looked at him filled him with nothing but reverence.
"every shitty tinder date happened after i chickened out of telling you how i felt. i just couldn't stand to lose you, peter." you added sadly.
he gave you a knowing look, nodding in agreement. "i know what you mean," he squeezed your hips, a contagious smirk controlling his lips. "wait, you've been going on shitty tinder dates since we moved out for college three years ago."
you returned the smirk, fingers trailing down to ghost the tendons in his neck. "i know."
peter pulled you in again, no longer embarrassed at the desperate noises escaping his throat as he attacked your lips, this kiss somehow hungrier than the last. you grinded down against him again, a raspy "fuck" leaving his swollen lips as he held a firm grip on your hips to keep you moving.
you chuckled at his desperation.
"you're telling me i could've been doing this the whole time instead of shitty jocks thinking its gross to make a woman feel good?" you sighed out as he trailed down your neck, teeth nipping and bruising your soft flesh as he continued to move against your hips, leaving you to soak up the feeling out how hard he was underneath you.
peter groaned in frustration, standing quickly with you still wrapped around his hips. he held you with one arm as though you weighed nothing, lips still attached to the pulse point in your neck. he used the other to catch himself as he threw you down onto his bed. you gasped, your back hitting the soft mattress as you took in peter's frame over you, hands on either side of your head.
he pulled back from his artwork on your neck, his jaw clenched. "i can't believe anyone could ever tell you such nonsense,"
he leaned down again to peck at your lips, hands making their way down to explore your sides. "i can't tell you what an honor it is to even think about how good you taste," he growled in your ear.
you gave a gasp, his words alone enough to have your cunt aching, as if you hadn't been since the second you sat down on his lap. "you... you think about that?"
he let out a chuckle as he sat back, his hands teasingly making their way to the button of your jeans. he ran his fingers under your waistline as his other hand tugged at your zipper, the feeling of your muscles tensing under his touch driving him absolutely crazy.
"more times than you could torture out of me," he pulled your jeans down, nearly finishing in his sweats at the sight of the delicate lace underwear against your burning skin.
synopsis : There was one thing you knew for sure, absolutely certain: Clark Kent didnât like you. Not in an angry or rude way, he was still polite, still himself. But you could feel it. His body language and attitude gave everything away. Your coworkers kept insisting you were wrong, but then why did he keep avoiding you?
cw : smut, unprotected sex, coworkers to lovers, idiots in love, insecurities, height difference, chubby reader. (david!clark kent)
words : 12.7k
It was no secret at the Daily Planet that Clark Kent was a gentleman. His coworkers liked to joke that his mama raised him rightâbut if only they knew, it was actually his pa who was the emotional one.
Still, the truth stood : Clark Kent had been raised right.
He brought coffee to his colleagues in the morning, at least when he wasnât running late. If someone forgot their wallet, heâd quietly pick up the lunch tab, never expecting to be paid back. He always volunteered for the articles no one else wanted to write, the stories everyone avoided.
Thatâs just Clark. A pleaser, through and through.
It did wonders for the office. You hadnât met a single person who didnât like Clark, he made it so easy to appreciate him. A gentle, big man with a heart of gold, who could hate that? You certainly didnât. But still, you couldnât shake the feeling that he didnât like you.
Every time he walked past your desk, he avoided your gaze, eyes low and fixed on the floor, hiding his face from you. Sure, he never left you out of his little acts of kindness, bringing your favorite vanilla latte to your cubicle next to Jimmyâs with that soft, polite smile, but he never lingered. Not the way he did at other peopleâs desks.
At first, you chalked it up to being the new hire. But as the months slipped by, you started to realize, he just didnât like you all that much. Which was a shame, really, considering the rather enormous crush youâd developed on the man.
You had done a marvellous job of hiding it. You were always polite with Clark, but you never stared too long, never asked your coworkers about him, never lingered by his desk longer than necessary. Still, every time he was near, your heart would pound like crazy, ready to burst right out of your chest. It was ridiculous.
Almost 26, and you still had crushes like you were in high school. Youâd thought you were past all that, especially after enduring so many terrible dates. Maybe the problem wasnât you, maybe it was the men of Metropolis. Because you seemed to have no trouble falling for a man from a small town lost somewhere in Kansas.
âHello!â snapped you out of your daydream, along with fingers flicking in front of your face. âHave you even been listening to me?â Jimmy asked, exasperation written all over his face.
Obviously not. You hadnât heard a word.
âOf course, Jimmy,â you said quickly, looking him in the eye.
Youâd been staring at the empty coffee cup on the corner of your desk, the very one Clark had brought you that morning. You grabbed it hastily and tossed it into the trash. It had been sitting there like a quiet taunt, mocking you with the reminder that you could never have the one man you actually wanted.
Jimmy frowned at your abrupt action but quickly moved on, picking up where he'd left off with his story about his latest date. You loved himâreally, you didâhe was one of your favourite coworkers. But god, did he talk a lot. And since your desks were practically conjoined, you were the default audience for all of his dating escapades.
It had been a long day.
Youâd spent it covering yet another political scandal, this time in Gotham City. Something about the Mayor being killed. The details were murky, grim, and far too much for a Wednesday. You couldnât help but wish the day would just end already.
Dropping your head onto your arm, you let out a groan as you remembered the errands still waiting for you. If you didnât get to the store soon, youâd be dining on water and regret. If Jimmy noticed you disinterest in the conversation, he didn't act on it as he kept yapping about the girl he had seen the night before.Â
And to top it all off, you needed a new perfume, your old one was currently sitting in the bottom of your trash can, shattered into a hundred glassy pieces. Just one more little tragedy in a day full of them.
From the moment you woke up, it had been that kind of day. And you couldnât wait for it to be over.
âCare for a drink tonight?â Loisâs voice cut through the room like a whip, barging in out of nowhere, and mercifully putting an end to Jimmyâs endless rambling.
Normally, grabbing a drink with coworkers wouldâve sounded nice. Fun, even. But not tonight.
Your head was pounding, a dull, throbbing ache that had been building for hours. Thatâs when you realized, you hadnât had any water today. Just coffee. So much coffee. And now exhaustion clung to you like the plague, dragging you down like a ball and chain around your ankle.
âNot for meâŠâ you mumbled, face buried in your arms. âMy headâs killing me, so⊠no drinks tonight.âÂ
After a few worried words from Jimmy, which you quickly brushed off, he went right back to talking about his date. This time, to Lois. Which, unfortunately, meant he started the entire story over again from the beginning.
You sat up with a quiet groan, realising you still had about two hours left at work. Deciding to make good use of the time, you started preparing questions for your next interview, then moved on to editing your article about the Gotham City scandal, scheduled to run the next day.
Once you were fully immersed in your work, the background noise faded. Jimmyâs voice, Loisâs witty remarks, none of it registered anymore. It was peaceful, being tucked away inside your own head, fingers dancing across the keyboard with purpose.
Unfortunately, that peace did nothing for your pounding headache, especially since your glasses were currently sitting on your coffee table at home, forgotten yet again.
The voices around you quieted when a bottle of water appeared on your desk, followed by a single aspirin. They had been placed gently on the wood, carefully set down so as not to disturb your focus. It was a quiet, thoughtful gesture, tender in a way that caught you off guard.
Looking up, you found yourself met with soft blue eyes, warm and filled with concern.
âFor your head,â Clark said simply, before turning back to his own desk under the watchful gaze of three stunned coworkers.
How had he known?
Heâd been at his desk the whole time. When you mentioned the headache, your voice had been muffled into your arms, barely audible even to Jimmy and Lois, who were sitting right beside you.Â
But Clark? Clark had heard you all the way across the room?
You couldnât begin to figure out the logistics of it, but your heart didnât care. It tumbled over in your chest, stuttering at the unexpected sweetness of it all.Â
What you didnât see, because his back was turned, was the small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of Clarkâs mouth as he sat back down.
When you turned your eyes back to your coworkers, both Jimmy and Lois were looking at you with raised eyebrows and matching, knowing smiles.
Jimmy had been teasing you about Clark ever since he caught you blushing the first time Clark brought you coffee. And Lois? She never missed a chance to mention the "energy" she claimed she could feel between the two of you, whatever that meant.
âOh, fuck off,â you muttered, ducking your head and returning to your article as you twisted open the bottle of water. You popped the aspirin and took a long sip, trying to drown the heat rising in your cheeks.
For someone who didnât seem to like you very much⊠Clark was oddly caring.Â
But that was just Clark. He cared about people, thatâs who he was. Thoughtful, selfless, kind to a fault. You were part of his daily life, part of the Daily Planet team, and even if he didnât like you that way, he would still care.
Thatâs just how he was. Clark Kent had been raised right. There was no denying that.
A few days later, it was your turn to be late to the Daily Planet. It was rare for you, almost unheard of, but some alien had decided to crash-land on Earth the night before, and the resulting battle with Superman had wrecked part of your subway line.
Youâd ended up walking twenty minutes to the office, arriving late, sweaty, and just in time to miss the morning meeting. Your punishment? Covering sports for the day. Fantastic.
You hated sports. Ironic, really, considering some of your old dates used to joke about how unathletic your body looked. Those assholes.
When you finally made it to your desk, your usual iced vanilla latte was already waiting for you, right next to a fresh bottle of water. God. Did he have to be this thoughtful?
It made everything worse. Or better. You werenât sure anymore. All you knew was that you liked him even more now, which was exactly the problem.
âThought you were dead,â Jimmy said the second you dropped into your chair. âWas gonna swing by your place tonight and steal your vinyl collection.â
You shot him a flat look. âYeah, well, if Superman hadnât turned half the N line into a pile of concrete, I wouldnât have had to walk twenty minutes to get here.â You groaned and took a sip of your coffee.Â
Sweet, cold, just how you liked it. The smallest part of you hated how good it tasted, because it meant he remembered exactly what you liked. Again. And of course, heâd made sure it was iced, the summer heat had already started hitting Metropolis like a brick wall.
Jimmy giggled beside you like a child. You glanced over to see him diving into his assignment, politics, the lucky bastard. He had a long day of work ahead, while you were stuck with nothing interesting. Groaning under your breath, you reached into your bag and pulled out your glasses, resigning yourself to a long, boring day. You already knew you were going to hate it.
âHey.â A soft voice called from behind you.
You turned, half-expecting it to be someone asking for a stapler or sticky notes. But it was Clark. You offered him a polite smile, assuming, like usual, he was there to talk to Jimmy. You were already halfway turned back toward your screen when you noticed something strange : his eyes were still on you.
You raised a brow, unsure. âHello,â you replied, voice cautious, heart beating fast. He looked like he was fighting back a smile.
God. That little almost-smile. Your heart tripped over itself. How could someone that big be so ridiculously cute? It made no sense. None at all.
âI know youâre not a fan of sports,â Clark began, his tone gentle, âand I got stuck with local news today⊠which I also know you like.â
Your heart stuttered. You didnât even need to look, Jimmy was absolutely staring at the two of you, probably wearing that smug told-you-so smirk he always pulled when it came to Clark. Heâd insisted for months that you were wrong, that Clark did like you.
âHeâs just polite,â you used to argue.Â
âHeâs polite to everyone,â Jimmy would say. âBut with you? Heâs thoughtful.â
And damn it, now it was starting to look like Jimmy mightâve been right.
âI asked Perry, and he said as long as weâre both okay with it, he doesnât see any problem with us switchingââ Clark stopped mid-sentence.Â
Heâd stepped a little closer to your desk, his expression soft and earnest⊠but then something shifted. His brow furrowed slightly, as if catching something out of place. âYou changed your perfume?â
Oh.
You had. The other night, when you finally made it to the store, theyâd been out of your usual scent. Youâd spent a good hour testing every bottle on the shelf until you found one you liked, something softer, quieter. No one else had noticed the difference.
But of course Clark did.
You blinked, caught off guard. He wasnât even that close. You werenât wearing much of it. How did he notice? You felt your heart knock hard against your ribs. There it was again, that strange awareness. Like he saw and heard and felt things other people didnât.
âYeah,â you said, keeping your voice casual even as your pulse betrayed you. âJust trying something new.â
Clark didnât say anything right away. His gaze lingered a little longer, thoughtful, before that small, secret smile tugged at the corner of his lips again. You didnât know what that smile meant. But you were starting to want to.
âAnyway,â he said quickly, as if realising how odd his comment about your perfume mightâve sounded. âI figured you might want local news. I really donât mind sports.â
He offered a soft smile as he handed you the annex documents.
âOh, thank you so much, Clark,â you said, relieved and maybe a little too enthusiastic, swapping him the sports documents in return.
Your fingers brushed, just barely, and it sent a shiver down your spine. He was warm. Of course he was. He looked like he gave the best hugs. The kind you could melt into and forget the world existed for a little while.
You shook your head subtly, trying to knock the thought loose.
Now was not the time to imagine Clark Kent curled around you in bed during the dead of winter, holding you close while snow fell outside. Not the time to picture flannel sheets and his soft breath against your neck. Those kinds of thoughts were supposed to stay in your bedroom, late at night, when the lights were out and your imagination ran free.Â
Not in the middle of the office. Not in the middle of the day. And definitely not while standing in front of the actual man who starred in every single one of those fantasies.
You cleared your throat, eyes darting anywhere but his. âYouâre a lifesaver.â
Clark gave you a look you couldnât quite read, something quiet, maybe a little amused, but he didnât press. Just nodded gently and stepped back toward his desk. And damn it, there went your brain again. Right back to flannel sheets and the curve of his smile.
âGirl, you are down bad,â Jimmy snorted from behind you, pulling you right out of your spiral.
Without even looking, you grabbed the first thing within reach, a ruler, and threw it at his head. It hit him square on. âWorth it,â he laughed, rubbing the spot before turning back to his screen.
You huffed and tried to do the same, shaking off the embarrassment and diving into your article. What you didnât catch, too flustered and too focused on pretending not to care, was the quiet laugh Clark let slip from his own desk.
Soft. Low. Amused. Like heâd heard the whole thingâŠÂ
Youâd never been particularly fond of walking home.
The streets of Metropolis were always crowded, day and night, and ever since Superman had wrecked part of the N line, your commute had grown by twenty exhausting minutes each way.
Why was it so easy to smash half the city every month, but fixing it always took forever?
So you walked. Again. Winding your way toward the still-functioning stretch of the N line, where you could finally hop on a train for the last ten minutes of your journey. You were just passing a little corner restaurant when you heard your name.
Your full name. Spoken in a voice youâd come to recognize far too easily.
Clark.
Your heart jumped. Turning around, you caught sight of him instantly.
He looked the same as he had in the office, same button-up shirt with his sleeves now rolled up to the elbows, but somehow, he also looked softer. His hair had loosened in the summer humidity, and a single curl had fallen down across his forehead.
He looked good. Too good.
âOh, hi, Clark,â you said, inwardly cringing at how small and soft your voice came out.
He smiled, warm and easy, walking toward you. âDidnât expect to see you here. Never caught you around this part of town before.â
You shrugged, trying to keep things casual despite the way your stomach flipped.Â
âOh, yeah, no, umâŠâ You stumbled over your words, eyes flicking to the restaurant window behind him like it might save you. âSuperman destroyed the N line near the office, so I have to walk all the way to the library station to catch the part that wasnât damaged.â
Clark winced sympathetically. âRight. The whole N line mess.â
Heâd been different with you lately.
Not dramatically, not enough to confirm anything, but just enough to keep your brain in a constant, swirling fog. He talked to you more. Not just about assignments, but about music, coffee, the weather, small things, personal things. His eyes stayed on you when you spoke, warm and focused. He lingered at your desk a little longer than he used to. Not like he did at Loisâs desk, all easy banter and playful grins, but still. It was something.
A start.
And right now, with his sleeves pushed up and that single rogue curl falling onto his forehead, it was definitely doing something to your heartbeat.
There was a pause, not uncomfortable, but charged, and you scrambled to keep the moment going.
âWhat about you?â you asked, voice softer. âYou grabbing dinner?â
Clark nodded, smile easy. âYeah. I like this place. Itâs quiet, kind of tucked away. Close to home. Good food. I come here sometimes after work. Helps me think.â
His voice was slower now, more casual than at the office. The city buzzed around you, horns in the distance, the hum of summer heat, but this little moment between you felt strangely still.
âHave you eaten?â âWell, have a good night.â
You both spoke at the same time, the words overlapping, catching you off guard.
Laughter bubbled out from both of you, soft and awkward, as you stood there on the sidewalk, caught in that strange, fluttery space between goodbye and something more.
You were so drawn in by him, his eyes, his voice, the quiet warmth he carried, that you didnât hear the teenager barreling toward you on a skateboard until it was too late. But Clark did.
Before the kid could slam into you, his hand wrapped around your forearm, firm, steady, warm, and in one smooth, instinctive motion, he pulled you into him.
The strength of it startled you. You knew Clark was strong, he was tall, broad-shouldered, always lifting stacks of paper like they weighed nothing, but this was different. Heâd pulled you so quickly, so easily, it knocked the breath out of you. You stumbled forward, colliding with his chest, hands instinctively pressing against him to keep balance.
Solid. Warm. Safe.
Before you could even register how close you were, before you could say something awkward to ruin the moment, Clark gently let go of your arm, only after making sure you had your balance again.
âWant to grab some dinner with me?â he asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And really, how could you say no to that?
What you expected to be a quick dinner between coworkers turned into something else entirely, something easy. You shared the food you ordered, Clark was right: the place was good. Casual, quiet, with a back booth tucked away from the crowd where it was just the two of you and the low hum of the city outside.
You talked. About your lives. Childhood memories. Favorite music. Silly stories from high school. Your mutual hatred for Metropolis sports coverage when he told you he actually didn't like covering sports. Â
It wasnât forced. It wasnât awkward. There were no strained silences, no moments where you felt like you had to fill the space. The conversation simply flowed.
And for the first time in forever around him, your heart was quiet. Not because the feelings were gone. But because they finally felt safe.
Of course, Clark being Clark, he insisted on paying and walking you home, or at least to your subway station. He argued it was late, that the streets werenât safe, as if you lived in Gotham City. That made you laugh. Ever the gentleman, he made sure to walk on the side closest to the road and even offered to carry your bag.
You had refused, obviously. Walking next to him felt strange. For one, he was so much taller than you, fitter, broader. Beside him, you almost looked like a child in comparison. Youâd put on your nice skirt that morning, the one that made your ass look great, but it came with downsides, especially after meals.
Your stomach stuck out, bloated from the food, and with the heat, you hadnât brought a jumper to hide it. Thatâs why you insisted on keeping your tote bag, slinging it on the side he was walking on, using it to shield your stomach from his view.
What you didnât know was how Clark couldnât help his eyes from drifting downward every time he fell a step behind you on the street, not on purpose, of course. But he couldnât look away from the bounce of your ass, the way your thighs moved with each step. It was mesmerizing to him.
Finally, you reached the subway station. A bit too soon for your liking, it almost felt like youâd just been on the best date of your life. But it wasnât a date, and Clark was still that coworker who, as far as you knew, didnât like you all that much. Even if it didnât truly feel that way anymore.
Maybe Jimmy was right?
âWell, you get home safe, alright?â Clark said, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips. Knowing of what, you couldnât quite figure out.
âYeah, hopefully Superman took the night off,â you joked.
The smirk faded from his face, just a little, but enough. Maybe you shouldnât have said that. You knew he and Superman were... friends, sort of. Clark was, after all, the only reporter in the city who ever got interviews with him.
Your subway ride was filled with secondhand embarrassment as you replayed everything youâd said tonight. Youâd been awkward, not really that funny, and, overall, it felt like youâd talked way too much. But Clark had brought up topics you were passionate about, and once that happened, well... you yapped.
You shook your head, trying to shake off the uncomfortable weight of cringe. Youâd apologize tomorrow morning, just to be safe. No need to give Clark another reason to like you even less.
Once you arrived home, you looked up at the sky, drawn by strange noises echoing above the rooftops. There he was, Superman, fighting off another threat from outer space. The battle was so close to your building you could see the entire scene unfold with startling clarity. That gave you an idea.
You made your way up to the rooftop, sat down, and pulled out your little notebook. You started writing it all out like a novel : vivid descriptions of the fight, the way Superman moved with precision, doing everything he could to avoid causing damage to the city. You noted how he kept trying to push the alien threat higher into the sky, away from civilians, careful not to hurt the beast more than necessary.
Perry would love these notes. Maybe heâd even let you cover the attack for the paper tomorrow. You kept writing, capturing everything, even the moment the Justice Gang showed up to help contain the creature, working together to finally subdue it.
The air up on the roof was lighter, breezier than the stifling heat youâd endured all day, and it made you want to stay. So you fetched your laptop, opened a blank document, and started shaping your article. Even if you hadn't officially covered the attack, yet, Perry would greenlight it, he always did when your writing spoke for itself.
You lost track of time, deep in your work, until a soft cough interrupted your flow⊠from the sky?
You looked up quickly, startled, and there he was. Superman himself. Youâd never met him in person, but then again, who hadnât seen him? Everyone knew that face. You knew him even better than most, thanks to Clark, who was always going on about him, especially after those exclusive interviews.
âWell, hello, Miss,â he spoke first.
You snorted softly, eyes still on your laptop screen. Not exactly ignoring him, but definitely unimpressed. Typing away, you mumbled a half-hearted, âHey.â Maybe you were still a little petty about the N line being down.
âYou shouldnât have stayed outside during the fight,â he continued, landing gently on the rooftop and staying a respectful distance away. âIt got a bit too close to your building.â
âHm?â you murmured, barely looking up. âOh, yeah. Iâll be alright.â You waved off the concern, trying not to sound as dismissive as you felt.
But you could feel his confused gaze on you, lingering, slightly thrown off. Clearly, he wasnât used to being ignored. That might do him some good. Might help deflate that ego a bit. You kept typing, your fingers flying across the keyboard, but a small part of you couldnât resist. He was standing right there. And, honestly, he could be useful.
âSo, would you say you were a little in over your head before the Justice Gang showed up?â you asked, voice casual, laced with dry sarcasm. âBecause it kinda looked like it from here. The alien was clearly kicking your ass for a minute.â
You didn't mean it cruelly, just honest observation. He had looked a little overwhelmed at first.
Superman blinked, clearly not expecting that kind of feedback. His brow arched, just slightly.
âIs that your professional opinion?â he asked, his voice smooth but amused. âFrom the rooftop press box?â
You shrugged, not looking up from your screen. âHey, I had the best seat in the house. Front-row view.â
He chuckled softly, the sound low and surprisingly human. Almost familiar. âIâll admit, he had a few unexpected tricks. But I had it under control.â
âOh, sure, no doubts,â you said, finally glancing up. âRight up until the part where you got slammed into a billboard. Very graceful.â
He smiled, wry, almost humble. âThat was... tactical repositioning.â
You snorted. âIs that what you call getting launched like a ragdoll now? Tactical.â
âWell,â he said, folding his arms, cape fluttering just slightly in the breeze, âyouâre welcome for the save.â
âYou didn't exactly save me,â you teased, then added with a touch more bite, âThough I will say, Iâm glad you didnât take out the rest of the N line this time.â Your fingers hovered above the keys as you shot him a pointed look. âI wouldnât have been nearly as nice in the article otherwise.â
Supermanâs lips twitched, like he was fighting back a laugh, or a wince. âI see. So your forgiveness is tied directly to public transport?â
âAbsolutely,â you replied. âI can forgive a lot, but making me walk fourty minutes everyday? Thatâs borderline villain behavior.â
He laughed, shaking his head. âNoted. Iâll add subway lines to the list of things to protect at all costs.â
âGood,â you said, returning to your typing. âNow if you donât mind, Iâve got an article to write. Since I know you only give your interviews to Mr. Kent.â
You didnât even try to hide the edge in your voice. Petty? Maybe. Deserved? Also maybe.Â
There was a pause. Then, with a teasing voice, Superman spoke again. âJealous of Clark?â
You scoffed without looking up. âPlease. Iâm just saying, he gets exclusives, I get the N line destruction and a rooftop cameo.â
Another pause. A longer one this time.
âYou know,â he said thoughtfully, âIâve read your articles.â
That made your fingers freeze for just a second. You had written about Superman before, here and there. Not often, mostly because your beat was international politics. But heâd made waves recently with the Boravian government, and you couldnât not cover it.
Unfortunately, you hadnât exactly been... gentle.
âI donât think you like me very much,â he said, laughing softly. Not defensive. Not wounded. Just amused.
âItâs not you,â you said quickly. âItâs your actions. You act like youâre above the law, above international conflict and diplomacy. It was just an objective piece, you know? Freedom of the press.â
You tried to keep it light. You really werenât in the mood to argue with the most powerful metahuman on Earth.
âIâve never doubted your objectivity,â he replied, his tone teasing. âYouâre with the Daily Planet, after all. Home of the most brutally honest reporters in Metropolis.â
That earned a small, reluctant smile from you. But still, something nagged at you. The way he looked at you. The way he spoke, gently, like he already knew how you thought. The rhythm of his voice. That soft smile.
It felt like you knew him.
Not just in the he's a global figure kind of way. But personally. Intimately.
Your brows furrowed slightly as you stared at him. It was so familiar, and yet your brain couldnât quite latch on to the why. You blinked and shook the feeling off, typing again. Maybe you were just tired. Or maybe Clark had spent too much time talking about this guy.
But the thought lingered.
âAnyway,â you said, stretching your arms with a dramatic sigh, âIâd better get back to my flat. Long day tomorrow, got to write about all the money your heroics cost the city. Call a few insurance companies⊠you know, the fun stuff.â
You flashed him a teasing grin as you gathered your things.
Superman chuckled. âSounds thrilling.â
You headed toward the rooftop door, hand on the handle, but paused to glance back one last time. âGoodnight, Superman,â you said, softer this time. Genuine.
âGoodnight,â he replied, already turning slightly as if ready to take off, then paused. âOh, and⊠Iâm sorry about the N line. Iâll keep an eye on the tracks next time. Promise it wonât get destroyed again ma'am.â
There was a grin on his face as he said it, wide, smug, just a little too pleased with himself. A shit-eating grin. Then he was gone, vanishing into the sky with a gust of wind and a blur of red and blue. You stood there for a second, squinting up at the empty sky.
That grin. You knew it. Youâd seen it before, up close, maybe even across the office.
But where?
After that night, Clark started acting... different.
Not in a dramatic way, he was still the same with everyone else. Polite, calm, a little awkward in the way only Clark could be. But with you, something had changed. He was more open, more playful. The teasing started subtly, soft jokes at your expense, quick little comebacks. Nothing cruel. Just familiar. Comfortable.
He stopped watching his feet every time you walked into the room. Stopped leaving the break room the moment you stepped in. And he actually talked to you now, full eye contact, even smiling sometimes like he meant it.
It was whiplash, honestly. Not that you didnât like it, you did. You just couldnât figure out why heâd changed his opinion of you so suddenly.Â
You hadnât even had time to apologize for being a little too awkward during dinner that night, before heâd smiled and told you heâd had a great time. Then he suggested doing it again, once a week, until the N line was repaired.
Like a standing dinner appointment. A kind of compensation, heâd said. As if he had been the one who destroyed it.
Of course youâd agreed, on one condition: you got to pay next time.
Heâd agreed, smiling that soft, unreadable Clark Kent smile. But it had been three weeks now. And somehow, you still hadnât paid for a single meal. He never let you.
It was a weird dynamic.
Every dinner with Clark felt like a date. The kind Jimmy wouldnât shut up about, candlelit, good food, long conversations full of smiles and eye contact. You didnât really talk about them at work. You mentioned them here and there, but you stayed discreet.
Mostly because you were convinced you were overthinking them.
Clark was one of the kindest, most genuine men you knew. Gentle, respectful, always listening, he asked about your opinions, remembered little details you'd said in passing. And he looked at you like what you were saying mattered. Like you mattered.Â
But you couldnât help but feel it was just friendliness. Nothing more.
Lois and Cat, of course, completely disagreed. They kept telling you you were letting your insecurities cloud the obvious. âHe likes you. Like, actual likes you, likes you.â But no matter how many times they said it, the thoughts wouldnât leave you alone.
Clark was beautiful, annoyingly so. Funny, in that dry, awkward way. Clumsy, in a way that made him human. And strong in a way that made your brain short-circuit if you thought too hard about it. He could have anyone in Metropolis. Girl, boy, model, athleteâyou name it.
And still, your coworkers were convinced he wanted to date you. It didnât make sense.
You werenât ugly, at least, you didnât think so. You just werenât remarkable either. Mundane, maybe. And yeah, you were overweight. You knew it, even if you tried to act like it didnât matter. But somehow, when Clark looked at you during those dinners, smiling like you were the best part of his evening, it truly felt like it didnât matter.
And with every passing week, the dinners lasted longer.Â
Shaking your head, you looked down at your watch.Â
Right now, you were sitting in City Hall, waiting for your interview with the Mayor. You were investigating LuthorCorp and its suspicious investments in political campaigns and city projects as well as foreign politics. It wasnât the first time youâd tried to dig into Lex Luthorâs operations, but every attempt had ended the same way.
He was too powerful. Too calculated. And absolutely unafraid to bribe, threaten, or manipulate any institution that stood in his way.
Youâd already been waiting for hours, juggling other article drafts, answering Perryâs increasingly impatient calls every hour about your progress with the Mayor. Which, so far, was absolutely nonexistent.
It was getting dangerously close to the end of your workdayâand the end of the Mayorâs. You could already feel the familiar sting of a wasted afternoon.
Looking up from your laptop, you spotted the Mayorâs secretary walking toward you. The expression on his face told you everything before he even opened his mouth. You sighed, here we go.
âIâm sorry,â he said, voice syrupy-smooth in a way that only made it more irritating. âBut the Mayor wonât be able to meet with you today.â
You almost admired the effort he put into sounding polite, almost. But you knew the truth : everyone in this building hated reporters. Especially the ones who asked the kind of questions you did.
âTell him he wonât be able to avoid reporters forever,â you said, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice. âAnd to stop wasting peopleâs time.â
You shoved your things into your bag with practiced frustration, snapping your laptop shut and slinging the strap over your shoulder. You stormed out through the main doors, the late afternoon sun catching in your eyes as you stepped onto the front steps of City Hall.
You didnât get far.
An unfamiliar voice called your name from behind you. You froze mid-step, your stomach already sinking. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Lex Luthor himself, stepping smoothly out of the building like he owned it, which, in a way, he probably did.
âIâm quite sorry you couldnât meet with the Mayor,â he said as he approached, that infuriatingly calm smirk playing on his lips. âWe had a lot to discuss.â
You scoffed, lifting your chin to meet his gaze without flinching. His eyes held no remorse, no real apology, only calculation.
âItâs fascinating,â you said coldly, âhow every time I have an appointment with the Mayor, you just happen to show up, Mr. Luthor.â
Lexâs smirk deepened, a flash of amusement passing through his eyes like he was genuinely enjoying himself.
âWell,â he said smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back, âsome would say great minds tend to orbit the same circles.â
You raised a brow, unimpressed. âOthers would say itâs suspicious."
It was his turn to scoff.
You werenât impressed by Lex Luthor, not like half the city seemed to be. To you, he was just a man. A rich one, yes, with a dangerous amount of power and polish, but still just a man.
For years, every reporter at The Daily Planet had tried to land an interview with him. None succeeded. Lex was meticulous about his image, controlling every frame, every word. He only appeared on talk shows where he could steer the conversation, only issued carefully worded statements, and never, not once, allowed a journalist past the doors of LuthorCorp.
This wasnât your first interaction with him. But it was the first time you thought you might have a shot at playing the game differently.
âI thought reporters loved suspicious,â he said, stepping closer. Not enough to invade your space, but just enough to remind you of the power he wielded. Political. Financial. Personal. âItâs almost like you enjoy sticking your nose where it doesnât belong.â
You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. âYou make it easier than most, Mr. Luthor. Corruption has a way of attracting unwanted attention.â
His smirk deepened, sharp and knowing, like he was starting to enjoy the direction this was heading.
âAh,â he said, tilting his head as though you'd just handed him a compliment. âStill, I admire your persistence. Most people back down after one roadblock. But not you. Or your little friends at the Planet.â He spat the word like it tasted rotten, the disdain unmistakable.
âYeah, well,â you said, eyes narrowing slightly, âweâre not most people, I guess.â
You saw it then, a flicker of something behind his eyes. Anger. Not loud or unhinged, but tightly coiled, controlled. He was a master at that. Lex Luthor didnât explode, he simmered, he plotted, he waited.
And so you shifted. Softened.
âBut I must say, Mr. LuthorâŠâ you added, letting your voice drop just slightly, almost shy, almost deferential. âYou impress me too.â
That caught him. His gaze sharpened, not with suspicion, not yet, but with curiosity. You saw the faintest hitch in his breath, the flick of calculation behind his polished exterior. This was unfamiliar territory. Praise wasnât your usual currency with him, and he knew it.
You smiled, just enough. Meek. Disarming. Let him take the bait.
âYou look surprisingly well, considering how much youâre handling these days,â you said, voice casual, light. âMust be exhausting, juggling all those city contracts, private acquisitions⊠and now all this quiet financing of the Boravian conflict.â
His smirk faltered. Then vanished completely. Silence.
You could almost hear the gears grinding behind his eyes. Then, there it was, the slip.
âHow do you know about that?â he snapped, the chill in his voice a sudden, biting thing. âThereâs been no official statement.â
Got him. You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that didnât bother hiding the satisfaction underneath.
âI didnât,â you said simply, reaching into your jeans pocket. The small recorder glinted in your hand as you held it up between you. âBut thank you for the confirmation.â
He stiffened. You stepped back.
âYouâll be hearing from us soon, Mr. Luthor, but I know you won't answer anyway,â you added smoothly. âHave a good evening.â
Then you turned, walking away before he could gather himself enough to spin it back in his favor. Your heart was pounding in your ears, adrenaline surging. You had a lead. You had a quote. And Lex Luthor had finally made a mistake.
Still riding the high of your small victory, you left the City Hall behind in a rush, already pulling out your phone to call Clark. It was supposed to be dinner night, but this couldnât wait, you needed to tell him what had just happened.
Sure, it hadnât been entirely ethical. But Lex Luthor never played by the rules, so why should you?
An hour later, you sat across from Clark at your shared table, half-typing, half-talking, your food long forgotten as you recounted every detail of the encounter. He listened patiently, his plate nearly empty, while yours remained untouched, your fingers dancing across the keys in a blur.
âSo, let me get this straightâŠâ Clark said, a warm laugh slipping out as he leaned back in his chair. âYou didnât actually record him?â
âOf course I didnât,â you muttered, not looking up, still deep in the rhythm of your draft. You grabbed a quick bite, chewing fast before continuing, âWhy would I have been recording him? It's not like I knew he was gonna talk?â
Clark shook his head, eyes soft, amused. âNot exactly your most ethical moment,â he teased, the smile tugging at his lips belying any real disapproval.
You shot him a look, playful and unrepentant. âYeah, well, ethics get a little blurry when you're up against a guy who treats international conflict like a business expense.â
He grinned, taking another bite, still watching you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.
âYou know,â he said after a beat, âPerryâs going to lose his mind when he reads this.â
You smirked, finally pausing to glance at him. âGood. Finally got my front page.â
You looked up, and froze for just a second. He was staring at you with the kindest eyes youâd ever seen. Unwavering. Soft. Like you were something rare and remarkable. Like he saw all of you and still chose to look that way.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. No one had ever looked at you like that. Not like you were just a reporter chasing a story, but like you were everything worth watching. Right on cue, your heart skipped. Flustered, you stabbed another bite of food with your fork and went back to typing, willing the blush from your cheeks.
Eyes still on your screen, you asked, trying to sound casual, âWhat? Do I have something on my face?â
He let out a quiet laugh, warm and low. âNo. Iâm just⊠proud of you,â he said, like it was the easiest truth in the world. âEven if it was a slightly debatable trick.â
You allowed yourself a small smile, hidden by the screen. âSlightly? Youâre going soft on me, Kent.â
âOnly with you.â He winked, finishing his own food.Â
That made you stop typing. Just for a beat. Then, you swallowed once, quietly, unsure if it was the food or the flutter in your chest, and resumed typing, pretending like the world hadnât just shifted a little between you.
You spent the rest of the night writing, the soft clack of your keyboard mixing with Clarkâs quiet commentary as he leaned over your shoulder. He offered suggestions here and thereâcleaning up a sentence, pointing out a stronger lead, helping shape the tone without ever overshadowing your voice.
It was nice. Sweet, even.
You werenât used to this kind of collaboration, gentle, unhurried, easy. The back and forth between you felt natural, like you'd been working this way for years.
Sometimes your hands would brush when you passed him your laptop, or when you reached over, completely shameless, to steal a bite of his second dinner. He gave up trying to stop you after the third attempt and just started ordering extra.Â
He was eating a lot. A lot. But then again, with a body like his, it made sense. Tall, broad-shouldered, solid in a way that felt permanent. You figured all that muscle had to be maintained somehow.
Still, every now and then, youâd glance at the empty plates piling up and mutter, âWhere does it all go?â
Heâd just grin, dimples and all, and say, âGood metabolism.â
You didnât believe that for a second. But you didnât press it either.
The article was nearly done. You were both full, him more than you, and the restaurant had settled into a comforting silence broken only by quiet conversation, shared glances, and the hum of the city through your open window.
Somewhere between line edits and midnight, you realized something dangerous.
You didnât just like working with Clark Kent. You liked being with him. What had started as a small, harmless crush had grown into something massive, and dangerous.
It crept in quietly at first. But now? It lived in every glance he gave you. Every time his soft, thoughtful smile found you across the table. Every time his hand gently reached out to stop yours from biting at your nails when stress took over. Those small, careful gestures chipped away at your resolve until your heart ached just from being near him.
So when he walked you to the subway that night, the city glowing gold around you both, and pressed a kissâsoft, lingering, infuriatingly gentleâto your cheek⊠your heart nearly gave out. It thumped wildly in your chest, loud enough to drown out the world for a moment.
You knew you were playing with fire. But God, you longed to get burnt.
You smiled as you descended the stairs into the subway, clutching your bag a little tighter. Hope curled in your chest like something too bold to name.
Maybe, just maybe, one day heâd feel the same way.
Sitting at your desk, you stared at the front page of the freshly printed Daily Planet.
Lex Luthor Admits to Financing International Conflicts
Your name sat proudly beneath the headline.
Perry had been thrilled with the article, grinning like a madman when it hit print, puffing his chest as he waved the paper around the newsroom. The Daily Planet's lawyers, on the other hand, were already on their third round of phone calls before noon. Emails, threats, cease-and-desist letters, they were pouring in from every direction courtesy of LuthorCorpâs legal team.
But Perry had your back. He stood behind the article, behind you, citing freedom of the press with fire in his voice and a cigar practically dangling from his teeth. You hadnât seen him that fired up in years.
Still, even with the rush of adrenaline and pride, you couldnât quite relax. You stared at the bold headline again, heart pounding. Youâd done it.
Youâd poked the beast, and it had roared. But you didnât regret it. Not even a little.
And just when the nerves started to crawl in again, a gentle tap came on the edge of your desk. You looked up to see Clark standing there, holding two cups of coffee. One was already missing a sip, his.
The other? Yours, just the way you liked it.
âFront page, huh,â he said softly, eyes warm. âWelcome to the club.â
You took the cup, fingers brushing his. That look was back in his eyes again, that same quiet pride from a few nights ago, the one that made your heart trip over itself.
âThanks,â you said, your voice lower than you meant.Â
He smiled again before making his way toward his own desk.Â
You felt so proud of yourself. You couldn't help but smile for the rest of the morning, having a hard time focussing on your work for today. Your eyes always lingered back toward the newspaper lying on your desk. All your team had made sure to congratulate you, filling your heart with warmth.Â
âDrinks tonight, you canât say no. We are celebrating you!â Loisâs voice shot across the bullpen like a bullet, barely giving you time to blink before she was already halfway to Perryâs office, heels clicking with authority.
You looked up from your monitor. âI didnât even say anything yet!â
And she was right, you couldnât say no. It was Friday night, and you had nothing better to do. You werenât behind on work, the fridge was stocked, the laundry was done. You had no excuse. And you had made the front page! It was a thing to celebrate.Â
And maybe it would help taking your mind of Clark, and your not real dates.Â
They were fun, too fun, really. Liberating in the moment, like you could breathe around him. But afterward? The crash was brutal. Your brain wouldnât stop spiraling, overthinking every word, every glance, every little laugh. It hurt. Even when it shouldnât.
Thatâs how you found yourself, hours later, sitting at a sticky table in OâSullivanâs, Metropolisâs finest pub, surrounded by your favorite coworkers. Clark and Cat were deep in a heated debate about Supermanâs very questionable sense of style, while you, Lois, and Jimmy were somehow talking about... toes?
Jimmy had started it. He always did. The man had a gift for derailing any normal conversation within five minutes.
Oh, and Steve was there too. He hadnât said much, but he was sipping his beer like a man who had no idea how heâd ended up in a conversation about capes and toes.
As the night wore on, everyone was getting progressively more affected by the alcohol. Everyone but one.
Clark.
He was weirdly good at holding his drinks. Thinking about it, you couldnât recall ever seeing him drunk. You were fairly sober yourself, a little tipsy, pleasantly warm, but nothing like Jimmy and Cat, who were currently butchering We Will Rock You on karaoke with the absolute confidence of people who had forgotten shame existed.
âHow come youâre not drunk?â you shouted over the noise, leaning in a little closer.Â
He turned away from the chaos, and those soft, annoyingly kind eyes landed on you. Paired with that specialty Clark Kent smile, gentle, quiet, and somehow entirely his, it sent a sudden jolt of heat straight between your legs.
âItâs simple,â he said, holding up his beer. âI didnât drink that much.â
Sure enough, he was still nursing his first beer, half-full. Meanwhile, the table had gone through at least four rounds.
You stared at the glass, distracted now by the way his fingers wrapped around it, long, strong, careful. The glass looked small in his hands. Like a toy. And for some reason, that sent another ripple of heat through you.
âYou seem a little out of it,â Clark added, that soft smirk playing at his lips again, just this side of teasing, but still warm.
You blinked, realising youâd been staring. Hard.
âOh no, Iâm good,â you said, far too loud, and threw both thumbs up in an awkward gesture that immediately felt like a mistake.
Had you been sober, you mightâve cringed. Hard. But right now? Cringing wasnât on the menu. Not when your brain was soft and hazy, and your eyes were locked on his mouth, on that smirk.
Youâd seen it before, of course. He was your colleague, your friend, and Clark smiled all the time. But there was something different about this smile. Something tucked just behind it, something unspoken, almost amused. It tugged at the edge of your memory. Familiar. Too familiar. But just foreign enough to slip out of reach.
Your brows pulled together, the confusion settling in your expression before you could hide it. He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Curious. Patient. Like he knew something. Almost amused.Â
âTell him!â Loisâs voice rang out far too close to your ear, snapping you miles away from your little internal investigation. âTell him about the little cute alien that was glued to your window for days!â
You blinked, turning to find her grinning like a devil, eyes glassy from one too many drinks. Beside her, Steve looked unsure, eyebrows raised, clearly bracing for whatever bizarre story was about to unfold.
They were both watching you. Waiting.
It was a silly story. Embarrassing, even. But one you liked telling, so you did just that. Animated and loud, hands waving around as you launched into the tale.
What you didnât notice, though, was the way Clark let out a quiet sigh as you turned away. The tension in his shoulders softened, his body subtly relaxing now that he was no longer under your scrutinising gaze.
The hours passed in a haze of laughter, bizarre stories, and absolutely butchered karaoke performances. It had been a long time since the Daily Planet crew had spent a night like this, no deadlines, no looming crises, just fun.
You felt good. Sobered up completely now, like most of the group, except Jimmy, who was still riding whatever chaotic, alcohol-fuelled high had taken hold of him three hours ago.
Thankfully, he lived near the bar, just a few blocks from Lois and Cat. The two women, still giggling, promised to get him home in one piece. You watched them chase after him with fond amusement as they all disappeared into the night.
Yeah. Tonight had been good.
âFuck,â you muttered under your breath as you checked the time. No way you were making the last subway, especially with the fifteen-minute walk to the nearest working station.
âEverything okay?â Clark asked beside you, concern laced in his voice as his gaze dropped to your phone.
You sighed, trying to wave it off. âI missed the last metro,â you said, almost sheepish. Then, looking up at the soft, quiet summer night around you, you added, âBut itâs fine. Itâs a good night for a walk.â
âIâll walk you home,â he said simply, firmly. The kind of tone that left no room for argument.
So, after a quick wave and a goodnight to Steve, you found yourself on the sidewalk beside him, heading off into the quiet streets. Of course, you did try to protest. You told him, more than once, that you were fine walking alone, that he really didnât need to go all the way to your place when he lived so close to the bar.
But he waved off every concern without missing a beat.Â
âIâm not letting you walk home alone at nearly 1 a.m.,â he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âMy ma would kill me if she found out.â
You laughed, shaking your head, but secretly? You were glad he insisted.
The thirty-minute walk flew by in what felt like seconds. One blink, and suddenly, you were home.
Conversation flowed effortlessly, like it always did since that first dinner. Comfortable. Familiar. He still walked on the side closest to the road, like always. But tonight, he was a little closer than usual. Just enough that your fingers brushed now and then, barely there, featherlight, but every time, your heart skipped like it hadnât quite gotten the memo to stay calm.
You didnât say anything about it. Neither did he. And neither of you moved away, either.
You joked about Jimmy and Catâs drunken rendition of classic rock songs, gently mocked Steve for always looking like heâd wandered into the wrong timeline, and even admitted that you agreed with Cat about Supermanâs questionable taste in suits.
Clark had laughed at that, a soft, genuine sound that made something warm bloom in your chest. And just like that, you were standing in front of your building. The night felt too short. The goodbye, too soon.
Standing on the stairs just before the front door of your building, you found yourself eye-level with Clark, a rare occurrence, given the fact that the man was a literal giant. Something in his eyes, in the way his body leaned ever so slightly closer to yours, in the quiet reluctance on his face, as if he, too, was a little sad the walk had ended, pulled the words from your lips before you could second-guess them.
âWanna come upstairs?â you asked, the question barely louder than the breeze. A whisper, almost lost to the wind.
But Clark heard you. Of course he did.
Not just because he was standing close, but because it was your voice. A voice he would pick out in a sea of thousands. A voice he'd hear anywhere, no matter how far. Though you didnât know that part.
He nodded, barely, a quiet âYeahâ slipping from his lips like a promise.
It wasnât long before your back hit your front door, upstairs, his body pressing gently, but undeniably, against yours. His lips found yours with the kind of urgency that had clearly waited too long. Soft, but certain. Gentle, but wanting. The kiss was rushed, but not careless. It felt like everything youâd both been holding in, months of glances, of almost, of quiet moments too full to name.
This wasnât a kiss just for the sake of kissing.
You kissed him harder, pushing up on your toes to meet him, trying to say with your mouth what your heart had never dared to voice. That you liked him. That you had for so long. That you hadnât imagined any of it.
Clark groaned softly into the kiss, lowering himself just enough until, without warning, his arms swept around you, lifting you with an ease that felt unfair. You wrapped your legs instinctively around his waist, breath catching in your throat as he deepened the kiss. He let you no time to protest.Â
His mouth moved against yours, tongue seeking, exploring, like he had something to say too. Something he hadnât found the words for yet. And you let him say it this way.
His hands slid under your thighs, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush, his warmth seeping through your clothes and setting your skin on fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as if you might float away otherwise.
The kiss deepened, slow and searching, a conversation without words. His tongue traced yours, tentative at first, then more sure, like he was learning the shape of you, committing every detail to memory.Â
Finally leaving the front door, Clark walked inside your flat with the ease of someone who belonged there. Without hesitation, he made his way to the couch and sank down with a quiet groan, the sound thick with relief.
You settled on his lap, feeling the solid weight of him beneath you. At the noise he made, you instinctively tried to shift, to sit beside him instead, worried you might be too heavy. But Clarkâs hands found your hips, gripping firmly, holding you in place.
âNo,â he murmured, voice low and urgent, his fingers tightening just enough to pull you closer. You froze as his lips found yours again, this kiss deeper, more demanding. You barely had time to protest before his arms wrapped around you, anchoring you to him.
Your breaths tangled together, your heart pounding in a wild rhythm that echoed his own. You felt it under your fingers. Time seemed to stretch, the world outside shrinking until it was just the two of you, suspended in this moment where everything finally made sense.
When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were dark, shimmering with something raw and real. âIâve wanted this for so long,â he murmured, voice low and rough. âMore than I knew how to say.â
Frowning, you let out a confused sound. "I thought you didn't like me."Â
Now it was his turn to look confused. Clark blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to process your words. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across his face, followed by a laugh, deep, sincere, and filling your flat.
âIs that why you always looked so gloomy around me?â he asked, the smile still lingering.
âYou avoided me, Clark. All the time. Watching your feet whenever I was near, never talking for more than a minute, never lingering at my desk unless it was necessaryâŠâ you said, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice at his teasing. âHow the hell was I supposed to know you liked me?â
âI bring you coffee,â he said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.
âYou bring coffee to everyone,â you shot back, deadpanned, rolling your eyes.
Clark chuckled, shaking his head with that familiar, easy grin. âYeah, but I always made sure you got the good stuff. Overly sugary milk with a bit of coffee.â
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but couldnât hide the small smile tugging at your lips. His lips trailed softly from your cheek to your jaw, then down to your neck. He lingered over your pulse point, as if savouring the gentle thrum beneath his touch.
âJust know,â Clark murmured, his head still resting against your neck, âIâve always appreciated you.â
Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, silencing any argument with a tender, insistent kiss.
The kisses felt euphoric, as if time itself had slowed to stretch them out for hours. With Clark, everything was effortless and unhurried. Unlike your past lovers, there was no rush, he moved as if he had all the time in the world, and right now, so did you.
His hands explored your body with tender care, caressing softly, never demanding, always gentle. He asked before slipping your shirt off, waited for your consent before removing your bra. Once you were bare, he peeled off his own shirt, never making you feel vulnerable or exposed.
His touch was intoxicating, as soothing as his lips. You melted under the weight of his hands, large, warm, and perfectly fitting as they cupped your breasts. His fingers toyed with your peaked nipples, alternating between soft caresses and gentle pinches, an unspoken apology woven into each movement. Paired with his lips tracing your neck and lips, it was utterly overwhelming.
Without even realising it, your hips began to move, grinding softly against him, responding to the slow, delicious tension building between you.
He chuckled softly against your lips as your covered core pressed against his already hard length. It was one of the hottest sounds youâd ever heard, a breathless, teasing laugh that sent shivers straight through you. Jimmy had been right, you were absolutely down bad.
âKeep going,â he groaned into your ear, his voice thick with need, just as you paused to rest your forehead on his bare, warm, and slightly sweaty shoulder.
His breath fanned over your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. You lifted your head slowly, eyes meeting his, dark, intense, and full of something deeper than desire.
His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The heat of his body seeped into yours, setting a slow, steady rhythm as your hips moved against him. Every touch, every brush of skin, was electric, soft, like he was memorising every curve, every inch of you. You felt safe, wanted, and adored in a way you hadnât known you needed.
You felt how wet you were, and judging by the hard length pressing against you, you knew he was just as affected as you were. It felt incredible to be wanted by Clarkâneeded, desired. For months, you had told yourself you were too plain, too overweight, too annoying. But it turned out he liked all of that about you.
You rocked your hips again, frustrated by the layers of clothing between you. Without thinking, you stood up and hurriedly peeled off your pants and panties in a clumsy, rushed way, like the fabric was burning your skin.
Standing naked before him, you noticed the effect it had on Clark. He froze, almost like his brain had short-circuited, not quite processing the very clear message you were sending, that you wanted him naked too. Instead, he simply admired your body, his eyes tracing you slowly and thoroughly, over and over.
Taking matters into your own hands, you knelt in front of him, fingers already fumbling with his belt buckle. That seemed to snap him back to reality. He gently took your hands in his, kissed your fingers softly, then stood up, pulling you to your feet with him.
After slipping off his pants and briefs, he sat back down on the couch and pulled you back onto his lap.
Your breath hitched as his warm hands settled on your hips, grounding you against him. His gaze roamed over your bare skin, eyes filled with awe and something soft, like he was seeing you in a way no one ever had.
You leaned into him, your hands resting lightly on his broad shoulders, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his skin. The weight of him was comforting, a promise of care and tenderness.
Slowly, carefully, his lips traced a path from your neck to your collarbone, each touch igniting sparks along your skin. You sighed, the tension of months of self-doubt melting away under his gentle attention.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured between kisses.
You gasped, eyes wide as a teasing smile tugged at your lips.
"Did Clark Kent just swear?" you teased, knowing full well his reputation at the office for a gentle, swear-free vocabulary. The fact that heâd let loose like this on your skin made your heart swell with warmth.
He playfully nipped at the skin of your breast before his lips closed over your nipple, while his fingers danced teasingly on the other. Your hips began their slow rocking again, finally satisfied by the warmth of his skin pressed against yours.
You felt him twitch against your stomach, biting your lip at the raw desire radiating from him. It had been far too long since youâd felt this wanted.
âClark,â you moaned softly.
âHm?â He lifted his head from your breast, eyes searching yours, waiting.
âI need you,â you whispered into his ear, voice tender and full of longing. âPlease.â
How could he ever say no when you sounded that sweet?
Clarkâs breath hitched, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he pulled you tighter against him. His hands slid down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with a reverence that made your skin tingle.
Without breaking eye contact, he gently tilted your chin up and kissed you deeply, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in this moment where nothing else mattered.
His hands gently lifted your thighs, easing them onto his lap just enough to draw himself closer to your warm entrance. He paused, holding you there, then looked at you through his glasses, silent, searching, asking without words if this was truly what you wanted. You nodded and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
With utmost care, he began to lower you onto his length, inch by inch, never rushing, always attentive to your reactions. The warmth and pressure were overwhelming, but not in a painful way more like a delicious surrender. You should have known, it's always the quiet, nerdy, clumsy ones who surprise you by being big.
Finally settling back onto his lap, you needed a moment to catch your breath. You slumped against him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. His hands were steady and soothing, tracing gentle circles along your back, cupping the nape of your neck with tender care. His soft voice whispered warmth directly into your ear, telling you how good and warm you felt.
He urged you to take your time, to never rush, he could wait as long as you needed, even the whole night. But you didnât need time. You needed to move. So, slowly and hesitantly at first, you began to rock your hips, a gentle, tentative motion.
It felt good, so good. He was reaching places no one else ever had, not even your toys. The sensation was unfamiliar, almost overwhelming, but far from unwelcome. You kept rocking against him, and each pass of his pelvis against your clit made your breath catch in your throat. It was breathtaking... but soon, it wasnât enough.
Lifting your head from the crook of his neck, you looked up at him, really looked. You wanted to see his face, his expression, as you began to bounce on him. It started softly, tentative, testing the limits of what your body was discovering. But the more you felt, the bolder you becameâand so did he.
His hands found your hips again, guiding them with more purpose, lifting and pressing you down onto him in a steady rhythm. But even that didnât satisfy him for long. Soon, his hips began to thrust up to meet yours, strong and fast, until his pace overtook yours and all you could do was hold on.
Moans, grunts, whines, and gasps filled the room, raw, honest sounds tangled together with the sharp rhythm of skin against skin. Sounds that had never once filled this flat before Clark.
After a few minutes of his relentless rhythm, you felt your orgasm building, close, achingly close, but just out of reach, like it was trapped behind a wall of glass. You let out a soft whine directly into Clarkâs ear, trying to rock your hips in rhythm with his, but you couldnât keep up. He was too fast, too deep, too much.
But he noticed. Of course he did. The way you whimpered, the way your body tried to move, it told him everything. And he felt it too, in the way your pussy tightened around him with desperate pulses, clenching so hard it almost made him see stars.
He smiled, just a little. His girl only needed a bit more.
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers sliding down to where you were joined. At first, he just teased, letting his fingertips brush lightly across your skin. It earned him another needy whine, one that made him chuckle softly against your shoulder.
Greedy little thing you were.
And he adored you for it. Clark would give you anything.
Without holding back any longer, his fingers found your clit, circling it in slow but steady motions, firm, grounded, perfect. The added pressure sent shocks of pleasure through you, colliding with the rhythm of his hips pounding into you. Your toes curled. Your hands dug into his shoulders. It was all too much.
And then it happened, your release crashing over you, breathtaking and unstoppable. The moans caught in your throat, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.
Clark wasnât far behind. The sound of your climax, the way your body tightened around him like a vice, it pushed him over the edge. With a groan that rumbled deep in his chest, he came hard, spilling into you, filling you with warmth.
Even as the last waves of your orgasm pulsed through you, Clark didnât stop. His thrusts slowed just enough to keep from overwhelming you, but they were still deep, intentional. He stayed hard inside you, your slick heat coaxing him to keep moving, to draw every last ounce of pleasure from your spent body.
Finally, after a few more thrusts, he stilled remaining inside you. A golden, heavy quiet filled the room, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the gentle thump of his heart against your chest.
Clark didnât move right away. He just held you. One arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other stroking your back in slow, grounding circles. His lips pressed soft, breathless kisses against your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, everywhere he could reach without letting you go.
âYou okay?â he murmured, voice low and careful.
You nodded against him, too dazed to form words just yet. He smiled softly and shifted just enough to grab the blanket off the couch, wrapping it around your back without slipping out of you. He stayed seated, still joined, still holding you close like he couldnât bear to let you go.
Getting up with you still in his arms, his softening cock still nestled in your warmth, he carried you gently toward the bathroom. He turned on the water, letting it warm up for the both of you, steam already beginning to rise and curl around the tiles.
He set you down carefully on the counter, your body pliant in his arms. Your head came to rest against the cool mirror behind you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a dazed smile. Clark let out a quiet chuckle at your blissed-out expression, brushing his fingers tenderly across your cheek.
âIâm gonna pull out now, okay?â he said softly, voice full of care, not wanting to startle you or cause any discomfort.
âYeahâŠâ you mumbled, barely coherent, too tired and thoroughly spent to say more than that.
The shower was quick, quiet, and sweet. Clark was gentle with every touch, washing your body with thoughtful care, making sure not to linger too long or overstimulate your already-sensitive skin. He moved with reverence, like tending to something precious.
When it was over, he didnât bother trying to dress you. Instead, he wrapped a towel around your damp body, gently patting you dry before scooping you back up into his arms.
He didnât go back to the living room for his briefs, didnât bother with anything else. All that mattered was getting you comfortable.
He carried you straight to your bed, settling you down with the same tenderness heâd shown you all night. Then he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms like you belonged there, like you always had.
The soft throw blanket heâd grabbed on the way to the bathroom now covered both of you, a light layer against the summer night. The duvet was folded off to the side, too heavy, too much, especially with Clark radiating warmth like a human furnace.
You let yourself melt into him, safe, warm, held.
You felt like you were on another planet, drifting through the best dream of your life, half-convinced youâd wake up any minute. Needing to make sure he was real, solid and warm beneath you, you clung to him. One leg curled possessively around his waist as you lay nearly fully on top of him, your bodies still bare, still close.
His semi-hard cock rested dangerously close to your still-sensitive cunt. It was a risk⊠but one you welcomed. A game you were more than willing to play again if it led to the same beautiful consequences.
Your fingers traced idle shapes along his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. When you looked up, you found him already watching you, glasses still perched on his nose.
Weird.
Had he even taken them off in the shower? You couldnât quite remember. Your brain had been hazy, your body boneless, your mind confused, but you were almost certain heâd kept them on the whole time. Just like he was keeping them on now, even though you both clearly had no plans of moving anytime soon.
You brushed it off, figuring he just wanted to see you clearly. Maybe it was a comfort thing. Maybe it was just Clark.
The silence stretched for a few more moments, soft and content, until you broke it with a rasping whisper. âYou know I had the biggest crush on you for months?â
His lips curved into that smug, infuriatingly cute grin. âOh yeah. I know,â he said, teasing deep in his voice.
You squinted at him, suspicious. âWhat do you mean, you know?â
Still grinning, he addedâwithout thinking, way too casually. âI could hear how fast your heart was beating.â
Silence. Your brain stalled.
âYou could⊠what?â
His smile faltered. Fuck. Clark had a lot of explaining to do.
in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)
flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex
warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous
a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them
âPenelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?â
Itâs something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually youâd agree, but tonight, you have other plans.Â
âRaincheck for me,â you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. âI have a thing.â
âWhat thing do you have on a Friday night?â Morgan asks skeptically. You donât bother looking at him as you hide a smile.Â
âAÂ date, Morgan. You jealous?â
âYouâre going on a date?â
Youâd nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spokeâheâs been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see heâs frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight youâre worried heâll give himself a headache.Â
âUh, yeah. I am.â Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on.Â
âWith who?â
You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. âJust⊠some guy from OT.â
âDalton?â
Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadnât. You donât want Spencer knowing who youâre going on a date with. It feels wrong.Â
âDoes it matter?â You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag.Â
âWell Dalton is an idiot, so I guess Iâm just trying to figure out why youâd go out with him.â
âAnd if itâs not Dalton?â
âThen Iâd tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldnât waste your time on any of them.â
âAlrightââ Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. âIâm gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.â He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive.Â
âNight,â you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.
Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh.Â
âOkay,â you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but youâre not letting this go. âWhat is this? Why are you mad at me?â
âIâm not mad at you,â he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. âI just thinkââ
âYeah. Youâve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I donât know why youâre judging me for going on a date.â
âIâm not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he⊠snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.â
âOkay. Do you have someone in mind?â
The words come out a little sharper than youâd meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows.Â
âNot specifically. Justâsomeone more like you.â
He just doesnât get it. You fold your jacket over your arm.Â
âYeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best Iâve got. I know heâs not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.â
The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. Youâve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where youâre practically begging for the truth without saying please, but thereâs only room for measured dishonesty.Â
Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. âHeâs not good enough for you.â
âWhat do you want me to do?â Itâs an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesnât have the answer, or heâs not comfortable sharing, you straighten. âIâll see you Monday, Reid.â
Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that youâre wasting your time with a man who isnât what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off.Â
âWait,â Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. Itâs endearing, even though youâre upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to ruin your mood.â
You laugh dryly. âYeah, wellâŠâ
âItâs just thatâŠâ he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when heâs kind of a dick. Heâs full of so much sincerity he doesnât know what to do with it all. âI know how you areâyouâre special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Daltonâall those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but⊠he doesnât deserve you.â
You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. âI know your heart is in the right place, alright? But itâs not about who deserves me or who doesnât. Iâm not a prize. Iâm a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, itâs justâitâs about whoâs there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes thatâs all I need, and I know you didnât mean it like this, but when you say he doesnât deserve me, it really seems like youâre not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.â
Godâthis elevator ride is like, comedically long.Â
âIs he what you want?â
At least he has the bravery to ask.Â
You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like heâs prepared to flinch, like he doesnât know if heâs ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow.Â
âI donât know why it matters to you.â
âBecause youâre my friend and I want to see you happy,â he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos.Â
âThen shouldnât you be supporting me?â
âIâm not going to support you in making the wrong choice.â
The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him.Â
âRespectfully, you have no idea whatâs right or wrong for me. I donât like whatever this is,â you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thingâa phone line hanging between your hearts. âI donât know if itâs, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, orââ
âItâs not like that!â He splutters.Â
âOkayâso what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why donât you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if thatâs meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!â
âI wasnât trying toâI wasnât even thinking aboutâabout sex! I donât care who you sleep with!â
Heâs turning increasingly pink.Â
âFine. But if you werenât thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly youâre not equipped to have this conversation. I know heâs an idiot. Iâm not looking for my soulmateâthank you, though, for reminding me that itâs completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.â
And with that, youâre turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your nameâonce. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys.Â
Itâs just the wind.Â
Nothing else.Â
-
Maybe youâre simply not meant for love.Â
Itâs a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their livesâeveryone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. Itâs the universal illusion of solitude. And youâd thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didnât want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other prioritiesâbut you rarely have to be alone.Â
Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureauâs records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although youâre not sure it actually exists) youâre pondering the nature of those connections youâd been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that youâre only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?
Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and youâre sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isnât helping anything.Â
The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. Itâs like you can sense it wafting off of each otherâyou feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when heâs about to say something, and you glance over, and heâs already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesnât say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself.Â
It gets frustrating.Â
Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you.Â
Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction.Â
âWhat year are you on?â
You give him a long look which he doesnât reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box youâre sifting through and double check.Â
âUh⊠June 1979 through August 1979.â
He nods matter-of-facts. âThey should be making us wear gloves.â
Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. Itâs not exactly an opportune time, but itâs better than silence.Â
Plusâyouâre pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering.Â
âWhyâs that?â You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers.Â
âWood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didnât start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so weâre actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.â
âDid you say sulfuric acid?â
âI said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,â he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. âSorry, by the way.â
You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. Heâs caught you by surprise.Â
âFor what?â
âForââ
He struggles with the wordsâyou watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He canât seem to tear his eyes from it, but you donât mind.Â
âFor everything on Friday. I⊠I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with⊠keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasnât judging you, I swear. What you said aboutâabout sex, Iââ he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. âThatâs not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you⊠do, or donât do, is none of my business. Obviously. You donât need me to tell you that. You donât need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasnât shaming you or judging you forââ
âSpencer,â you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper.Â
âYeah. Sorry.â
He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. Itâs otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost.Â
From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping.Â
You wouldnât have been willing to forgive them in the first place.Â
But itâs not anyone else.Â
âThank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.â
He glances up at you, sort of hunchedâalways trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. Heâs not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but heâs always trying. Heâs always pushing himself for you.
Do you ask too much?Â
Do you offer enough in return?
Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files.Â
Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it.Â
âI mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldnât blame you for thinking so,â you laugh airily. âMaybe it was a good reality check.â
A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on.Â
âWhat? Thatâs notâthatâs not at all what I was trying to say.â
âSpencer, itâs fine.â
His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter.Â
âNo, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep withâwhich I donâtâand even if I determined that you wereâŠÂ sexually promiscuous, I wouldnât assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, itâs biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans werenât socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, itâs completely unremarkable. But I havenât made that determination. All I know is that⊠youâre you. And thatâs all thatâs ever going to matter to me.â
Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat.Â
How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?
Spencer takes pity on you.Â
âAnd⊠weâve talked entirely too much about something thatâs none of my business today.â
Itâs wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk.Â
You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and youâre about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of itâbecause of the affection you have for each otherâand then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown.Â
âWaitâwhatâs the case number weâre looking for?â
â91 18 00063 7.â
You hold the file up, eyes alight.Â
âI found it.â
Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief.Â
âI genuinely didnât think we were ever going to find it,â he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. âWe had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. Youâre like magic.â
Itâs impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket.Â
âWill you tell that to Hotch?â
âI⊠will tell anyone who will listen,â he assures you, and youâre confident heâs following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. âAre we not gonna clean up our mess?â
âThere are people who will take care of that later.â
âYeah. Like me. During my lunch break.â
âDonât worry. Youâre going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.â
âWhat does that mean?â He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush.Â
You smile to yourself.Â
Still got it.Â
for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!
defiance | king!sukuna x concubine!reader master list
chapter twenty: sumire
summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine.
word count: 5.7k
a/n: tw!! mentions of death, grief, and postpartum depression. also, the name sumire means violet flower â€ïž
âHave you made your final decision?â Yamato asks, after his rather long and difficult conversation with Mariko.Â
âI have. Iâd like to continue staying here. Iâve found meaningful work in being an advisor, something not a lot of retired concubines get to do. I think moving on to working as your official advisor would be a step in the right direction, if thatâs alright with you.â She says, playing with her empty cup that was once filled with sake.Â
âOf course itâs alright with me, youâve done a wonderful job advising the king these past 2 years.â The shogun reminisced. âAnd what about Uraume, have you spoken to them?â
âUraume will move on to become a spy for the region, seems like thatâs their true calling.â She lightly smiled. Uraumeâs been doing their best to keep a brave face, but you could tell theyâve found themselves to be a little lost as well during these uncertain times.Â
Itâs been a long day for these two, going over Sukunaâs will and trying to find the best way to move forward, although there truly wasnât. The mystery around his disappearance will live on in their minds for the rest of their lives, there most likely wouldnât be a point where theyâd find themselves âmoving onâ. The man wouldâve never guessed how much he was loved, even if it were just by a handful of peopleâ even Yunaâs aura darkened at the mention of him.Â
Along with trying to accept the new normal, they found difficulty in what exactly the ârightâ steps were. There was specific wording in the will and it was nearly impossible to go around it. You and the baby were supposed to leave the country with all the money he left behind, but that was only if he died and they lost the war.Â
But they won. He mustâve been so stressed while writing out the damn thing that he didnât even think of that as a possibility, so now you were to stay. Mariko and Yamato knew this wasnât what the king wanted, but they couldnât go against it now, trying to bend the will would just cause a rift between the districts once the other shoguns finally get the chance to read it.Â
And what exactly was the new normal? All of the shoguns would assume power equally until the heir reached the age of 18 to continue the line of succession, regardless of the genderâ effective immediately once his death was officially announced.Â
âSo weâre really going to do it, huh?â She asks, still in disbelief over everything thatâs happened in less than a span of 6 months.Â
âWe have to,â you can tell it pains him to say it. âThe districts are getting impatient, we need to reestablish order before someone decides to rebel or something. We just barely got out of this mess. At least with this, heâs seen as some sort of hero.â Yamato slightly cringes as he says that sentence, Sukuna would probably come back to haunt him in his dreams for that.Â
âAlright. Go ahead and let the other shoguns know, weâll set up a meeting at the throne room as soon as possible.âÂ
âBy the way,â he stops her right before she walks away. âHave you spoken to the girl yet? About any of this?âÂ
âYeah, kind of. Just the parts where weâd be making his death official.. not the other parts.âÂ
âI suggest you see to it then.. we all feel sorry for her, but she wonât get any better if you keep ignoring the subject.â He reminded her, for what seems to be the -nth time.
âI know. Iâll think of what to say to her soon,â she says apprehensively.Â
â-
Mariko knocked on your door before walking into your bedroom. She stopped asking if she could come in a while ago, you never really answered anyways. There you were resting on the bed, like you always did. This time Sumi was with you, playing with one of her dadâs old pendantsâ you were watching her carefully so she wouldnât hurt herself, yet you wouldnât have let her play with it if it were that hazardous.Â
At least you were starting to spend more time with her again, the old concubine thought to herself.Â
âSukunaâs father apparently gifted him that for his 13th birthday,â she says as she sat on the bed, beside you and Sumi. The babyâs attention was quickly turned to Mariko, her eyes lit up and legs started kicking at seeing who might as well have been her auntie.Â
âI know heâs a king, but I never realized how much jewelry and treasure he had.â You remark, rubbing on Sumiâs little belly.Â
âToo much of it,â she confirms. âBut he never cared for that kind of stuff, as you can tell with the way he just throws them into a chest or a box.âÂ
âI know. A lot of them were tangled together.â You say as you look at her. The expression on her face this time was unreadable. âYou look.. conflicted.â
âVery conflicted,â she nods, avoiding your gaze and instead keeping it on Sumi.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âI know your place here might seem to have gone up in the air since announcing his death,â she nearly blurted out. âBut I just want you to know, your place remains the sameâ even if you werenât the queen consort, we all see you as such, you are the mother to his only heir. You donât have to worry about anything, ever, for that matter.âÂ
You just nod at her statement, mentally preparing for whatever she has to say next.
âWith that being said,â Mariko continued. âI need something of you.âÂ
âWhat is it?â You ask, almost hesitantly.
âI need you to get it together,â her eyes swelled as she forced herself to say it, being the first to address the estate's open secret wasnât easyâ the open secret being your very apparent postpartum depression, and how you spend nearly all of your time being locked away. But she was really the only one who had the guts to do it. âIt hurts to watch you go on like this.â
âI know,â you solemnly agreed, allowing her to burst your bubble once more. You canât avoid it forever, reality that is.
âHow can I help you?â She reached out to squeeze your hand.
âI donât know,â your voice cracked, wondering what could be done yourself. âNobodyâs holding me back, yet I feel so stuck,â you sharply inhaled at the fact, realizing it was the first youâve ever said it out loud. âI didnât even feel this lost when I first ran away to come here. I donât know what to do with myself. I thought that if he never came back, Iâd go overseas. But I distracted him when he was working on that stupid fucking will and now Iâm stuck in a place where Iâm constantly reminded of his absence.â
Mariko ran her thumb over your knuckles as you began to pour your heart out, the baby right next to you clueless to the crisis going on around her.Â
It was then when she found her own faults in this situation, she went straight to treating you like a mother, and only that, after you gave birthâ something she despised when she was one herself.Â
Youâve been mourning over someone you loved this whole entire time, everyone including herself tiptoed around it. Had she held you in the moments you pretended to be strong in the face of others, maybe you wouldnât have been so overthrown by your own grief.Â
Maybe then you would have been in a better headspace.
She knows you well enough at this point to know that this was the first man youâve ever truly lovedâ overlooking his many flaws and holding on to his heart because you knew you could handle it with enough care.Â
And you did, better than anyone else could have, thatâs why he gave it to you. Then it was ripped away from your hands.Â
Taken away to god knows where.Â
She just hopes he actually was resting in peace at this point, but she doubts it. Heâd be rolling over in his unmarked grave if he ever saw you like this.Â
âWhat if I made a routine for you?â She suggested. âWould you follow it?â
âIâd do anything at this point to feel better,â you softly whimpered.
âOkay,â she softly said, holding back her own tears. âWeâll get you back together,â she rubbed your back as she promised, thankful you agreed to it without putting up much of a fight.
â
The plan was simple, Mariko didnât want to create any more drastic changes in your lifestyle, so she started out with the small things.Â
No more eating in the room, all meals were to be in the dining area or sunroom.Â
You must get out of bed by 9:00 am. You didnât have to do anything like tasks around then, it was just the simple act of getting out of such a dark space, especially since it was starting to get warm with spring being here. Â
Speaking of tasks, you were to go back to watering your plants in the green house. Mariko knew that would eventually lift your spirits since your pet bird had recently made a nest there, the eggs were supposed to hatch any day now.Â
And to sweeten the deal, you had one day in the week where you could lay in bed and eat snacks all day.Â
It was definitely doing something. But your mood wasnât going to miraculously turn around overnight, Mariko knew that and constantly reminded you, so you wouldnât continue to beat yourself up.Â
In between your bad days, you had semi-good daysâ the days where you wouldnât randomly start crying, begging Mariko and your attendants to just leave you alone. They all were patient with you though, knowing it was going to take time.
Today was one of your designated bed-rotting days and you made sure to get full use out of it, just like you always did. The mid-day naps were usually the best part of it, except for today since your brain decided to betray you by making you have another dream about Sukuna.Â
Itâs always the same oneâ it starts off with you shopping in a busy market when you suddenly spot him, and then for the rest of the dream youâre calling and running after him, yet he canât hear you. Always unreachable, he never once meets your gaze. When you finally wake up from it, youâre panting and covered in your own sweat, all while the sinking feeling of longing and dread overtake you.
You gave yourself a moment to recollect yourself after waking up, allowing your breathing and racing heart to calm down. You slowly got up from bed and wondered if your sudden panting woke up Sumi, who fell asleep right before you did.Â
Your stomach drops and you forget to breathe as you walk up to her crib. You had asked the girls not to take her from the room anymore since youâve been trying to spend more time with her, so there should be no reason as to why sheâs not in there right now. Your body nearly slammed against your door as you burst through it, you havenât had this much anxiety in a while so you donât even know where to start.
âHayami?â You called out, the worry in your voice extremely apparent. âWhereâs the baby?â Your second question was a little more frantic, the lump in your throat changing your tone.
âHow kind of you to finally join us,â an all too familiar voice answered after you asked. âWeâre over here.â
You followed the direction where the voice came from, figuring it was just Yamato stopping by to see the baby, he always made sure to do so whenever visiting Yuna, which has been pretty frequent lately. Seeing Sumi always made his day a little better, her pink hair reminding him of her father.Â
He always saw the late king as a son, despite Sukuna constantly rejecting that idea. But youâre sure he appreciated it deep down, given how Sukuna was always more considerate towards the old shogun compared to most people.Â
âWhen did you get the baby?â You asked right before turning the corner to the sunroom, nearly squinting from how bright it was.
âA while ago actually.â
Dryness crept up your throat as you stood at the archway, the sight of the late king holding his daughter was right before your eyes. The pieces quickly came together, the realization of what had happened wasnât as difficult to digest as you thought it would be.Â
They say you felt everlasting peace after death, but witnessing the life you have been stripped of made you realize how insulting that saying was.Â
The three of you deserved to have this in life, not after.
But itâs not like you could go back, all anyone could do when their time ran out was accept it.
You donât even know what took you out, but there have been cases where peopleâs hearts have stopped beating from just grief alone. At least you went out peacefully, it makes up for the 5 months of agony you went through.
âShe looks like me,â he softly marveled, quite pleased with the fact. âTold you not to get so mad at me so much.â
âShe really does,â you said, trying to force a smile on your face.Â
Itâs what your daughter deserved at the very least, yet even in death you couldnât do that. Now that you think about it, she really hasnât really seen you smile that much and you wish the only regret you had in life wasnât so painful.Â
But maybe this was for the best, she deserved so much more than what you had to offer her. The only thing that made you feel better about it all was that you both died before she could even remember you two.Â
All you could do now is hope that she ends up in the hands of a happy family, something you couldnât have ever given her, even though you so desperately wanted to.Â
But thatâs all it wasâ hope.Â
It never actually got you anywhere.Â
You hoped Sukuna would come home and he didnât. You hoped you could get out of your rut but you never did.Â
You had hopes all throughout your life, yet nothing came out of them.Â
The only thing that was certain was that you had no say in what happens during life or after.Â
So you could hope for the best for Sumi, but itâll never be up to you, or even her for that matter.Â
Just like the course of your life or the course of Sukunaâs, even with all the power he had, it didnât shield him from dying too soon.
â-
The soft sounds of leaves bustled throughout the dewy meadow, along with faint chirps and flutters from all the little bird's wingsâ flying back and forth between the trees. Streaks of sunlight pierced through the thick canopies, one shining a little too bring on the man's left eye, ultimately waking him up.Â
It felt impossible to move, for once in his life he experienced the type of physical pain that just forced him to lay there and grumble to himself.Â
âYouâre awake,â he heard a woman's voice from above.Â
Forcing himself to do something, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus his visionâ it didnât take him too long to realize his head was resting on her lap.Â
âWho are you?â He rasped outâ it even hurt to talk right now.Â
The woman let out a soft laugh as the king looked at her with squinted eyes, even when he was at his weakest he still held on tightly to his harsh nature.Â
The womanâs face slowly warped to that of an old one, the same one that he had banned from his shrine almost 2 years ago.Â
âShinigami?â He asked, not even phased by the supernatural aspect of the woman.Â
âNot quite,â she said, her voice now faintly croak. âJust one of the very many deities that watch over this land and the people in it.â
âAm I dead?â He asked, sounding like heâd be somewhat accepting of it if it were true.Â
âNot at all,â the old woman assured him, brushing his hair back and out of his face. âYouâre very much alive.â
âDid you save me?â
âI didnât need to. You wouldâve woken up.. eventually. I just made it happen faster.â She reveals.Â
âHow long was I out for?â
âA little over 4 months.â
âFuck,â he sighs to himself. âWhat even happened?â
âWell, you depleted all of your energy storesâ physical and cursed. Then there was the cursed bath, which made you closer to something like me than an actual human, which exhausted your body even more. Then there was the binding vow I doubt you remember making, you broke it,â the deity found herself rambling on about how much he fucked himself up. âLetâs just say your spirit found itself in the space in between life and death and you refused to cross it and refused to give anything in exchange for breaking your vow.â
âAnd nobody tried to look for me?â His tone was now becoming argumentative.
âThousands have looked for you. Again, you were in a place between life and death. Being closer to a curse made all of you go there.â She reminded him.
âDid I at least win?â
The deity chuckled to herself, transforming back to the appearance of a middle aged womanâ regal looking, with all of the jade and gold jewelry that adorned her.
âYes,â she nodded. âYou saved more people than youâd ever know that day. The boy is back with his father again as well.â She added, referring to Toji.
âWhat about my family?â He stubbornly asked, not really caring about the others that may or may not have been affected.
âTheyâre okay.â She says, but he can tell thereâs a catch to that. âYour child is healthy. Her mother misses youâ dearly. Iâve been watching over her, you could feel that poor girl's pain from a mile away.âÂ
She felt his shoulders and neck slightly relax in her lap after hearing that, it was the first thing he thought about upon waking up.Â
âShe probably thinks I made her a single mother.â He mumbles, just wondering about what state you could possibly be in right now filled him with dread.Â
The deity doesnât really know what to say to that, she watched over him long enough to know heâd probably have a stroke if she gave him any more details.
âWaitâ you said her?âÂ
âYes, she gave birth to aââ
The ever so arrogant king cuts her off with a groan before she could finish that sentence, âFucking godâ my life is over.â
âIt is not,â she scolded the man who should not be worried about that right now, given the fact that the world actually thinks heâs dead right now.Â
âI yelled at you and banned you from my shrine, why are you being so nice to me?âÂ
âYouâre someone whoâs had to force others to be kind to you, you deserve to be treated with some sincerity,â she answered softly.
âEven after everything Iâve done?â He asked, as skeptical as ever.
âEven after everything youâve done,â she promised. âA person doesnât just expel purity from their soul for no reason. Even after all the times youâve submerged your soul in pure evil, the benevolence deep within has yet to be pierced.âÂ
â.. I donât know what to say to that,â he says in all honesty.
âYou donât have to say anything at all.â She smiled at the man she watched over his whole life. âPerhaps maybe leave an offering on your parents grave. From the moment you were born they knew thereâd be a certain amount of hardship to your existence. They prayed and made offerings to me frequently. Maybe thatâs why Iâm so sympathetic for a grump like you, I watched you grow up. Youâre like my child, itâs why I continued to watch over you even after their offerings and prayers stopped.â The deity hummed, continuing to card her fingers through his hair in a maternal fashion. âIâm sorry I couldnât fully protect you from peoples judgment and hatred as a child. I hope the woman I chose for you makes up for that.â
âThank you,â he closed his eyes as they began to stingâ the woman gently wiped the tear drop that ran down his cheek shortly after. âSheâs perfect.â
âWould you like to see her?â
âYeah,â he nearly whispered, clearing his throat right after, trying to get the lump out.Â
She instructed him to keep his eyes closed as she placed her hand over his forehead. Visions of your shared chambers came to life in his head. Even though he was grateful to see you so soon, it still broke his heart seeing the state you were inâ curled up in bed asleep, holding on tightly to one of his robes. Even with your eyes closed he could see the red stains around your eyes from crying.
He wonât even bother asking what happened to you, itâll just make him feel worse.
The next vision brought him more joy of course, since it was of his daughter who was currently being cared for by your ladies in waiting. Hayami was holding her at the edge of the koi pond while she splashed the water with her little hands.Â
The first thought that came to his head was how chubby her cheeks and thighs were, making him immediately burst out laughing.Â
âYour lifeâs not so over now, is it?â She nearly taunted him.Â
âOf course itâs not,â he says, brushing off his unnecessary theatrics from earlier. âA plump little thing,â he began to snicker to himself, the deity began to smile at his words.
âA plump one indeed,â she says, nearly laughing at herself. âAre you ready to go back home?â
âYes,â he said with a smile still plastered on his face. Heâs been ready to go home the moment he left you at the estate.
An illuminated symbol formed under them as she began to cite an incantation, all to save him the walk back, he was sore enough.Â
âWill I ever see you again?â He raised his voice to cut through the overpowering noise of the wind.Â
âOnly in death will you ever see me again, Ryomen Sukuna.â She said, her voice raised as well to be heard over the earth that began rumbling underneath them. âMany, many years from now.â She rest assured him.Â
Your attendants nearly screamed at the sight of him just randomly appearing in the main area of your chambers, but quickly realized it was actually him and not some sort of ghost when he told them to shut up in both a quiet yet aggressive manner.Â
âGo take the rest of the day off,â he quietly scolded them for nearly waking you up with their dramatics.
Being home felt so surreal to him. Nothing about the layout has changed, but the air seemed so cold despite it already being spring. He had thought about waking you up when he first walked into your shared room, but thought it would be best to just let you wake up on your own.Â
He did take it upon himself to grab the little baby in the cribâ who was already awake and silently kicking her feet around, clearly content playing by herself. She instantly began babbling little incoherent phrases, she was a talkative one and he quickly caught on to thatâ making him quickly leave the room because she wouldâve eventually woken you up.
So little in his arms, yet so aware of her surroundings already. She stared at him for the majority of the time he spent with her, wondering why he felt and looked so familiar in that little head of hers.Â
On his way back, he knew the reunion was going to be an emotional one. He was glad no one else was around, because he didnât expect to break out into a full blown sob once he finally sat down and got a good look at her.Â
One look at her was all it took for himâ the experience of what it felt like to truly be chosen by someone was too overwhelming.Â
What he had with you was inevitable, but what he had with her was intentional.Â
To be lucky enough to even have one of those was rare, it truly did make up for the pain he experienced early on in life.
Had he not inflicted the same pain on to others, he may have felt a little more deserving of it.
But to sit there and question it all wouldâve been an insult to the both of you, the deity that sent you to him, and his parents that prayed for the said deity to watch over himâ so heâll just accept his little family as gracefully as he can.Â
After an hour of sitting there and holding his child, he suddenly heard the doors of your chambers burst open, making him and the baby flinch. He clearly didnât think this whole thing through, no mother enjoyed waking up to find her child missing, but there was no way your first reaction to seeing him again would be angerâ you werenât that bad.
âYour mothers finally awake,â he whispered to the girl, tickling the side of her neck with his finger. âHow kind of you to finally join us,â he says after hearing you frantically ask over where the baby was. âWeâre over here.â
âWhen did you get the baby?â You asked the moment you stepped into his view. He could tell you didnât realize that it was him yet, you were also covering a part of your eyes from how bright it was compared to your room.
âA while ago actually,â he says, offering you a smile when your gaze finally met his. He wasnât shocked or hurt by your initial reaction, you just stood there under the archway, looking back and forth between him and the baby.Â
âShe looks like me.â He finally said after he noticed the color started to drain from your face. âTold you not to get so mad at me so much.â
âShe really does,â you say. He knew you well enough at that point to know you were faking the enthusiasm in your voice. He could also tell it almost pained you to smile back at him.
âWhat are you doing?â He slightly grimaced as he watched you pinch the ever living fuck out of your arm, he wasnât sure if he shouldâve been confused or concerned at this point.
The confirmation that this was all real made you want to take a deep breath of relief, yet the sight of him rendered you unable to do so. For 5 months, you had forced yourself to believe heâd come back, but seeing him made you realize you only did that for comfort.Â
The thought of laying your eyes on him again seemed so out of reach, out of your grasp.
Even as you finally do so now, he was still so far away.
âI thought I was dreaming or something,â you mumbled. In all honesty, you thought you had died too. You began to rub the self inflicted welt on your arm, sort of glad to have a random action to do. You werenât so sure what to do with yourself in his presence.
Your savior, your tormentor, your loverâ most importantly, Sumiâs father.
For a second you thought you had been reunited with him in hell, but this was real and so was he, he probably already heard about what kind of mother you turned out to be with him out of the picture.Â
âSweetheart,â he gently called out, hoping it would stop you from internally spiraling.Â
He had already had a clue of what your emotional state was like and figured you wouldâve been more in shock than anythingâ which was pretty clear from the way you seemed almost afraid to be around him.Â
He wanted nothing more than to smother you with everything he had in him, but after seeing how you literally thought you were dreaming, heâs convinced you might actually faint or worse from the abrupt change.Â
So heâll hold back on his urges, needing you to hold on to whatever sanity you had for now.
âDovey,â he gently called out to you again, finally pulling you out of your head.
âHm?â Your eyes began to sting as you watched the two of them.
âHave you given her an official name?â He asked in a hushed tone, rocking the girl in his arms.Â
âNo, I justââ you force the words out, looking down at the ground. âGiving her an official name wouldâve made it all too real.â
âYour attendants told me that you all call her Sumi?âÂ
âYeah.. musume was too long,â you admit rather shamefully, holding your breath.Â
You were expecting him to scold you or something over it, but he never did. All he did was smile and look back at his nameless child. Taking the word âdaughterâ and shortening it was amusing to him, very typical of you.Â
You beat yourself up over everything you couldnât bring yourself to do since she was born, your attendants gave him a brief rundown on everything before leaving.Â
But, you clearly tried, it was enough for him. He was sure it was enough for Sumi tooâ his chubby little daughter looks like sheâs never had her stomach growl once in her life, ever.Â
Being that she was exclusively breastfeedâ you clearly loved her with the way you made up for the areas you couldnât give enough in.Â
âHow about Sumire?â he asked as he continued to look at her admiration, fast asleep from hearing her mothers voice. âSumireâ that way we can all keep calling her Sumi.â
âI thought you hated flowers,â you say, because it was second nature to question the things that the king did, despite the fact that he had literally just come back from the dead.Â
Looking at how in awe he was of her moved you, the fact that he was back started to slowly settle.Â
He was okay with the fact that you couldnât find the will to do anything other than lay in bed right now. It was his turn now to pull you out of the dark, the way you unknowingly did with him at one point.Â
He was going to give you the reality you were sure you had been stripped ofâ and the first step was to actually name her.
âI like this flower,â he said, cradling his baby girl, supporting her head in his hand that was a lot larger. âI wonder which side she got her eye color from.â
âSumire,â you softly repeated the name to yourself. âI like that.â
âHas she always been this easy?â He asked, extremely impressed by how she didnât fuss once since heâs been with her.Â
âYeah, isn't she sweet?â A lump formed in your throat as you asked, the guilt of knowing you shouldâve spent more time with her washed over youâ especially when she never gave you a reason to need so many breaks from her.
It wasnât fair.
âThe sweetest,â he said before giving her a kiss on the forehead. âJust like her mama.â He felt the need to add that last part, you looked like you needed the reminder.
Your eyes followed him as he got up from the seat and walked past you to put her back in her crib. He was a natural with her, she didnât move or flinch at all while he set her down in the crib to finish the rest of her nap on her own.Â
The sight of them tugged on your heart strings, followed by a final snap after seeing the hurt in his eyes after you took a step back from him when he got too close to youâ you didnât even realize it.
âIm sorry,â your voice finally broke, covering your face as tears started to well in your eyes.
There was a slight frown on his face as he grabbed the back of your head and pushed you into his chest. Heâs never seen you look this defeated, everâ red stains on the corners of your eyes, visible veins scattered in the whites of them, the look of someone who could sleep for eternity and still be exhausted.
âDonât be sorry,â he said, sushing you as you began to silently weep into his chest. âI shouldnât have been gone as long as I was, at all.â
You attempted to say something, but it came out in broken whimpers and light heaving, all while he rubbed your back, trying his best to soothe you. It felt like your body was finally releasing all of the worries and tension itâs held on to since the day it was announced that he had officially gone missing.Â
He held you a little tighter as he felt his own guilt starting to sink in, kissing the top of your head and continuing to try to console you.Â
âDonât ever be sorry, I'm the one who left you all alone,â he says as he strokes your hair.Â
It was a strange feeling, in his head he was only gone for a few days but his body and soul naturally knew how long itâs actually been.
Too longâ even as he held you in his arms, there was still a deep yearning for you that gnawed away at him.Â
For the rest of the day it was just the three of you. You two avoided talking about what had actually happened to him, for now. You just wanted him to enjoy actually being back home and he wanted to focus on the two girls in his life.Â
It was never going to be enough to make up for all the lost time, but it was a start.
defiance | king!sukuna x concubine!reader master list
chapter twenty: sumire
summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine.
word count: 5.7k
a/n: tw!! mentions of death, grief, and postpartum depression. also, the name sumire means violet flower â€ïž
âHave you made your final decision?â Yamato asks, after his rather long and difficult conversation with Mariko.Â
âI have. Iâd like to continue staying here. Iâve found meaningful work in being an advisor, something not a lot of retired concubines get to do. I think moving on to working as your official advisor would be a step in the right direction, if thatâs alright with you.â She says, playing with her empty cup that was once filled with sake.Â
âOf course itâs alright with me, youâve done a wonderful job advising the king these past 2 years.â The shogun reminisced. âAnd what about Uraume, have you spoken to them?â
âUraume will move on to become a spy for the region, seems like thatâs their true calling.â She lightly smiled. Uraumeâs been doing their best to keep a brave face, but you could tell theyâve found themselves to be a little lost as well during these uncertain times.Â
Itâs been a long day for these two, going over Sukunaâs will and trying to find the best way to move forward, although there truly wasnât. The mystery around his disappearance will live on in their minds for the rest of their lives, there most likely wouldnât be a point where theyâd find themselves âmoving onâ. The man wouldâve never guessed how much he was loved, even if it were just by a handful of peopleâ even Yunaâs aura darkened at the mention of him.Â
Along with trying to accept the new normal, they found difficulty in what exactly the ârightâ steps were. There was specific wording in the will and it was nearly impossible to go around it. You and the baby were supposed to leave the country with all the money he left behind, but that was only if he died and they lost the war.Â
But they won. He mustâve been so stressed while writing out the damn thing that he didnât even think of that as a possibility, so now you were to stay. Mariko and Yamato knew this wasnât what the king wanted, but they couldnât go against it now, trying to bend the will would just cause a rift between the districts once the other shoguns finally get the chance to read it.Â
And what exactly was the new normal? All of the shoguns would assume power equally until the heir reached the age of 18 to continue the line of succession, regardless of the genderâ effective immediately once his death was officially announced.Â
âSo weâre really going to do it, huh?â She asks, still in disbelief over everything thatâs happened in less than a span of 6 months.Â
âWe have to,â you can tell it pains him to say it. âThe districts are getting impatient, we need to reestablish order before someone decides to rebel or something. We just barely got out of this mess. At least with this, heâs seen as some sort of hero.â Yamato slightly cringes as he says that sentence, Sukuna would probably come back to haunt him in his dreams for that.Â
âAlright. Go ahead and let the other shoguns know, weâll set up a meeting at the throne room as soon as possible.âÂ
âBy the way,â he stops her right before she walks away. âHave you spoken to the girl yet? About any of this?âÂ
âYeah, kind of. Just the parts where weâd be making his death official.. not the other parts.âÂ
âI suggest you see to it then.. we all feel sorry for her, but she wonât get any better if you keep ignoring the subject.â He reminded her, for what seems to be the -nth time.
âI know. Iâll think of what to say to her soon,â she says apprehensively.Â
â-
Mariko knocked on your door before walking into your bedroom. She stopped asking if she could come in a while ago, you never really answered anyways. There you were resting on the bed, like you always did. This time Sumi was with you, playing with one of her dadâs old pendantsâ you were watching her carefully so she wouldnât hurt herself, yet you wouldnât have let her play with it if it were that hazardous.Â
At least you were starting to spend more time with her again, the old concubine thought to herself.Â
âSukunaâs father apparently gifted him that for his 13th birthday,â she says as she sat on the bed, beside you and Sumi. The babyâs attention was quickly turned to Mariko, her eyes lit up and legs started kicking at seeing who might as well have been her auntie.Â
âI know heâs a king, but I never realized how much jewelry and treasure he had.â You remark, rubbing on Sumiâs little belly.Â
âToo much of it,â she confirms. âBut he never cared for that kind of stuff, as you can tell with the way he just throws them into a chest or a box.âÂ
âI know. A lot of them were tangled together.â You say as you look at her. The expression on her face this time was unreadable. âYou look.. conflicted.â
âVery conflicted,â she nods, avoiding your gaze and instead keeping it on Sumi.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âI know your place here might seem to have gone up in the air since announcing his death,â she nearly blurted out. âBut I just want you to know, your place remains the sameâ even if you werenât the queen consort, we all see you as such, you are the mother to his only heir. You donât have to worry about anything, ever, for that matter.âÂ
You just nod at her statement, mentally preparing for whatever she has to say next.
âWith that being said,â Mariko continued. âI need something of you.âÂ
âWhat is it?â You ask, almost hesitantly.
âI need you to get it together,â her eyes swelled as she forced herself to say it, being the first to address the estate's open secret wasnât easyâ the open secret being your very apparent postpartum depression, and how you spend nearly all of your time being locked away. But she was really the only one who had the guts to do it. âIt hurts to watch you go on like this.â
âI know,â you solemnly agreed, allowing her to burst your bubble once more. You canât avoid it forever, reality that is.
âHow can I help you?â She reached out to squeeze your hand.
âI donât know,â your voice cracked, wondering what could be done yourself. âNobodyâs holding me back, yet I feel so stuck,â you sharply inhaled at the fact, realizing it was the first youâve ever said it out loud. âI didnât even feel this lost when I first ran away to come here. I donât know what to do with myself. I thought that if he never came back, Iâd go overseas. But I distracted him when he was working on that stupid fucking will and now Iâm stuck in a place where Iâm constantly reminded of his absence.â
Mariko ran her thumb over your knuckles as you began to pour your heart out, the baby right next to you clueless to the crisis going on around her.Â
It was then when she found her own faults in this situation, she went straight to treating you like a mother, and only that, after you gave birthâ something she despised when she was one herself.Â
Youâve been mourning over someone you loved this whole entire time, everyone including herself tiptoed around it. Had she held you in the moments you pretended to be strong in the face of others, maybe you wouldnât have been so overthrown by your own grief.Â
Maybe then you would have been in a better headspace.
She knows you well enough at this point to know that this was the first man youâve ever truly lovedâ overlooking his many flaws and holding on to his heart because you knew you could handle it with enough care.Â
And you did, better than anyone else could have, thatâs why he gave it to you. Then it was ripped away from your hands.Â
Taken away to god knows where.Â
She just hopes he actually was resting in peace at this point, but she doubts it. Heâd be rolling over in his unmarked grave if he ever saw you like this.Â
âWhat if I made a routine for you?â She suggested. âWould you follow it?â
âIâd do anything at this point to feel better,â you softly whimpered.
âOkay,â she softly said, holding back her own tears. âWeâll get you back together,â she rubbed your back as she promised, thankful you agreed to it without putting up much of a fight.
â
The plan was simple, Mariko didnât want to create any more drastic changes in your lifestyle, so she started out with the small things.Â
No more eating in the room, all meals were to be in the dining area or sunroom.Â
You must get out of bed by 9:00 am. You didnât have to do anything like tasks around then, it was just the simple act of getting out of such a dark space, especially since it was starting to get warm with spring being here. Â
Speaking of tasks, you were to go back to watering your plants in the green house. Mariko knew that would eventually lift your spirits since your pet bird had recently made a nest there, the eggs were supposed to hatch any day now.Â
And to sweeten the deal, you had one day in the week where you could lay in bed and eat snacks all day.Â
It was definitely doing something. But your mood wasnât going to miraculously turn around overnight, Mariko knew that and constantly reminded you, so you wouldnât continue to beat yourself up.Â
In between your bad days, you had semi-good daysâ the days where you wouldnât randomly start crying, begging Mariko and your attendants to just leave you alone. They all were patient with you though, knowing it was going to take time.
Today was one of your designated bed-rotting days and you made sure to get full use out of it, just like you always did. The mid-day naps were usually the best part of it, except for today since your brain decided to betray you by making you have another dream about Sukuna.Â
Itâs always the same oneâ it starts off with you shopping in a busy market when you suddenly spot him, and then for the rest of the dream youâre calling and running after him, yet he canât hear you. Always unreachable, he never once meets your gaze. When you finally wake up from it, youâre panting and covered in your own sweat, all while the sinking feeling of longing and dread overtake you.
You gave yourself a moment to recollect yourself after waking up, allowing your breathing and racing heart to calm down. You slowly got up from bed and wondered if your sudden panting woke up Sumi, who fell asleep right before you did.Â
Your stomach drops and you forget to breathe as you walk up to her crib. You had asked the girls not to take her from the room anymore since youâve been trying to spend more time with her, so there should be no reason as to why sheâs not in there right now. Your body nearly slammed against your door as you burst through it, you havenât had this much anxiety in a while so you donât even know where to start.
âHayami?â You called out, the worry in your voice extremely apparent. âWhereâs the baby?â Your second question was a little more frantic, the lump in your throat changing your tone.
âHow kind of you to finally join us,â an all too familiar voice answered after you asked. âWeâre over here.â
You followed the direction where the voice came from, figuring it was just Yamato stopping by to see the baby, he always made sure to do so whenever visiting Yuna, which has been pretty frequent lately. Seeing Sumi always made his day a little better, her pink hair reminding him of her father.Â
He always saw the late king as a son, despite Sukuna constantly rejecting that idea. But youâre sure he appreciated it deep down, given how Sukuna was always more considerate towards the old shogun compared to most people.Â
âWhen did you get the baby?â You asked right before turning the corner to the sunroom, nearly squinting from how bright it was.
âA while ago actually.â
Dryness crept up your throat as you stood at the archway, the sight of the late king holding his daughter was right before your eyes. The pieces quickly came together, the realization of what had happened wasnât as difficult to digest as you thought it would be.Â
They say you felt everlasting peace after death, but witnessing the life you have been stripped of made you realize how insulting that saying was.Â
The three of you deserved to have this in life, not after.
But itâs not like you could go back, all anyone could do when their time ran out was accept it.
You donât even know what took you out, but there have been cases where peopleâs hearts have stopped beating from just grief alone. At least you went out peacefully, it makes up for the 5 months of agony you went through.
âShe looks like me,â he softly marveled, quite pleased with the fact. âTold you not to get so mad at me so much.â
âShe really does,â you said, trying to force a smile on your face.Â
Itâs what your daughter deserved at the very least, yet even in death you couldnât do that. Now that you think about it, she really hasnât really seen you smile that much and you wish the only regret you had in life wasnât so painful.Â
But maybe this was for the best, she deserved so much more than what you had to offer her. The only thing that made you feel better about it all was that you both died before she could even remember you two.Â
All you could do now is hope that she ends up in the hands of a happy family, something you couldnât have ever given her, even though you so desperately wanted to.Â
But thatâs all it wasâ hope.Â
It never actually got you anywhere.Â
You hoped Sukuna would come home and he didnât. You hoped you could get out of your rut but you never did.Â
You had hopes all throughout your life, yet nothing came out of them.Â
The only thing that was certain was that you had no say in what happens during life or after.Â
So you could hope for the best for Sumi, but itâll never be up to you, or even her for that matter.Â
Just like the course of your life or the course of Sukunaâs, even with all the power he had, it didnât shield him from dying too soon.
â-
The soft sounds of leaves bustled throughout the dewy meadow, along with faint chirps and flutters from all the little bird's wingsâ flying back and forth between the trees. Streaks of sunlight pierced through the thick canopies, one shining a little too bring on the man's left eye, ultimately waking him up.Â
It felt impossible to move, for once in his life he experienced the type of physical pain that just forced him to lay there and grumble to himself.Â
âYouâre awake,â he heard a woman's voice from above.Â
Forcing himself to do something, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus his visionâ it didnât take him too long to realize his head was resting on her lap.Â
âWho are you?â He rasped outâ it even hurt to talk right now.Â
The woman let out a soft laugh as the king looked at her with squinted eyes, even when he was at his weakest he still held on tightly to his harsh nature.Â
The womanâs face slowly warped to that of an old one, the same one that he had banned from his shrine almost 2 years ago.Â
âShinigami?â He asked, not even phased by the supernatural aspect of the woman.Â
âNot quite,â she said, her voice now faintly croak. âJust one of the very many deities that watch over this land and the people in it.â
âAm I dead?â He asked, sounding like heâd be somewhat accepting of it if it were true.Â
âNot at all,â the old woman assured him, brushing his hair back and out of his face. âYouâre very much alive.â
âDid you save me?â
âI didnât need to. You wouldâve woken up.. eventually. I just made it happen faster.â She reveals.Â
âHow long was I out for?â
âA little over 4 months.â
âFuck,â he sighs to himself. âWhat even happened?â
âWell, you depleted all of your energy storesâ physical and cursed. Then there was the cursed bath, which made you closer to something like me than an actual human, which exhausted your body even more. Then there was the binding vow I doubt you remember making, you broke it,â the deity found herself rambling on about how much he fucked himself up. âLetâs just say your spirit found itself in the space in between life and death and you refused to cross it and refused to give anything in exchange for breaking your vow.â
âAnd nobody tried to look for me?â His tone was now becoming argumentative.
âThousands have looked for you. Again, you were in a place between life and death. Being closer to a curse made all of you go there.â She reminded him.
âDid I at least win?â
The deity chuckled to herself, transforming back to the appearance of a middle aged womanâ regal looking, with all of the jade and gold jewelry that adorned her.
âYes,â she nodded. âYou saved more people than youâd ever know that day. The boy is back with his father again as well.â She added, referring to Toji.
âWhat about my family?â He stubbornly asked, not really caring about the others that may or may not have been affected.
âTheyâre okay.â She says, but he can tell thereâs a catch to that. âYour child is healthy. Her mother misses youâ dearly. Iâve been watching over her, you could feel that poor girl's pain from a mile away.âÂ
She felt his shoulders and neck slightly relax in her lap after hearing that, it was the first thing he thought about upon waking up.Â
âShe probably thinks I made her a single mother.â He mumbles, just wondering about what state you could possibly be in right now filled him with dread.Â
The deity doesnât really know what to say to that, she watched over him long enough to know heâd probably have a stroke if she gave him any more details.
âWaitâ you said her?âÂ
âYes, she gave birth to aââ
The ever so arrogant king cuts her off with a groan before she could finish that sentence, âFucking godâ my life is over.â
âIt is not,â she scolded the man who should not be worried about that right now, given the fact that the world actually thinks heâs dead right now.Â
âI yelled at you and banned you from my shrine, why are you being so nice to me?âÂ
âYouâre someone whoâs had to force others to be kind to you, you deserve to be treated with some sincerity,â she answered softly.
âEven after everything Iâve done?â He asked, as skeptical as ever.
âEven after everything youâve done,â she promised. âA person doesnât just expel purity from their soul for no reason. Even after all the times youâve submerged your soul in pure evil, the benevolence deep within has yet to be pierced.âÂ
â.. I donât know what to say to that,â he says in all honesty.
âYou donât have to say anything at all.â She smiled at the man she watched over his whole life. âPerhaps maybe leave an offering on your parents grave. From the moment you were born they knew thereâd be a certain amount of hardship to your existence. They prayed and made offerings to me frequently. Maybe thatâs why Iâm so sympathetic for a grump like you, I watched you grow up. Youâre like my child, itâs why I continued to watch over you even after their offerings and prayers stopped.â The deity hummed, continuing to card her fingers through his hair in a maternal fashion. âIâm sorry I couldnât fully protect you from peoples judgment and hatred as a child. I hope the woman I chose for you makes up for that.â
âThank you,â he closed his eyes as they began to stingâ the woman gently wiped the tear drop that ran down his cheek shortly after. âSheâs perfect.â
âWould you like to see her?â
âYeah,â he nearly whispered, clearing his throat right after, trying to get the lump out.Â
She instructed him to keep his eyes closed as she placed her hand over his forehead. Visions of your shared chambers came to life in his head. Even though he was grateful to see you so soon, it still broke his heart seeing the state you were inâ curled up in bed asleep, holding on tightly to one of his robes. Even with your eyes closed he could see the red stains around your eyes from crying.
He wonât even bother asking what happened to you, itâll just make him feel worse.
The next vision brought him more joy of course, since it was of his daughter who was currently being cared for by your ladies in waiting. Hayami was holding her at the edge of the koi pond while she splashed the water with her little hands.Â
The first thought that came to his head was how chubby her cheeks and thighs were, making him immediately burst out laughing.Â
âYour lifeâs not so over now, is it?â She nearly taunted him.Â
âOf course itâs not,â he says, brushing off his unnecessary theatrics from earlier. âA plump little thing,â he began to snicker to himself, the deity began to smile at his words.
âA plump one indeed,â she says, nearly laughing at herself. âAre you ready to go back home?â
âYes,â he said with a smile still plastered on his face. Heâs been ready to go home the moment he left you at the estate.
An illuminated symbol formed under them as she began to cite an incantation, all to save him the walk back, he was sore enough.Â
âWill I ever see you again?â He raised his voice to cut through the overpowering noise of the wind.Â
âOnly in death will you ever see me again, Ryomen Sukuna.â She said, her voice raised as well to be heard over the earth that began rumbling underneath them. âMany, many years from now.â She rest assured him.Â
Your attendants nearly screamed at the sight of him just randomly appearing in the main area of your chambers, but quickly realized it was actually him and not some sort of ghost when he told them to shut up in both a quiet yet aggressive manner.Â
âGo take the rest of the day off,â he quietly scolded them for nearly waking you up with their dramatics.
Being home felt so surreal to him. Nothing about the layout has changed, but the air seemed so cold despite it already being spring. He had thought about waking you up when he first walked into your shared room, but thought it would be best to just let you wake up on your own.Â
He did take it upon himself to grab the little baby in the cribâ who was already awake and silently kicking her feet around, clearly content playing by herself. She instantly began babbling little incoherent phrases, she was a talkative one and he quickly caught on to thatâ making him quickly leave the room because she wouldâve eventually woken you up.
So little in his arms, yet so aware of her surroundings already. She stared at him for the majority of the time he spent with her, wondering why he felt and looked so familiar in that little head of hers.Â
On his way back, he knew the reunion was going to be an emotional one. He was glad no one else was around, because he didnât expect to break out into a full blown sob once he finally sat down and got a good look at her.Â
One look at her was all it took for himâ the experience of what it felt like to truly be chosen by someone was too overwhelming.Â
What he had with you was inevitable, but what he had with her was intentional.Â
To be lucky enough to even have one of those was rare, it truly did make up for the pain he experienced early on in life.
Had he not inflicted the same pain on to others, he may have felt a little more deserving of it.
But to sit there and question it all wouldâve been an insult to the both of you, the deity that sent you to him, and his parents that prayed for the said deity to watch over himâ so heâll just accept his little family as gracefully as he can.Â
After an hour of sitting there and holding his child, he suddenly heard the doors of your chambers burst open, making him and the baby flinch. He clearly didnât think this whole thing through, no mother enjoyed waking up to find her child missing, but there was no way your first reaction to seeing him again would be angerâ you werenât that bad.
âYour mothers finally awake,â he whispered to the girl, tickling the side of her neck with his finger. âHow kind of you to finally join us,â he says after hearing you frantically ask over where the baby was. âWeâre over here.â
âWhen did you get the baby?â You asked the moment you stepped into his view. He could tell you didnât realize that it was him yet, you were also covering a part of your eyes from how bright it was compared to your room.
âA while ago actually,â he says, offering you a smile when your gaze finally met his. He wasnât shocked or hurt by your initial reaction, you just stood there under the archway, looking back and forth between him and the baby.Â
âShe looks like me.â He finally said after he noticed the color started to drain from your face. âTold you not to get so mad at me so much.â
âShe really does,â you say. He knew you well enough at that point to know you were faking the enthusiasm in your voice. He could also tell it almost pained you to smile back at him.
âWhat are you doing?â He slightly grimaced as he watched you pinch the ever living fuck out of your arm, he wasnât sure if he shouldâve been confused or concerned at this point.
The confirmation that this was all real made you want to take a deep breath of relief, yet the sight of him rendered you unable to do so. For 5 months, you had forced yourself to believe heâd come back, but seeing him made you realize you only did that for comfort.Â
The thought of laying your eyes on him again seemed so out of reach, out of your grasp.
Even as you finally do so now, he was still so far away.
âI thought I was dreaming or something,â you mumbled. In all honesty, you thought you had died too. You began to rub the self inflicted welt on your arm, sort of glad to have a random action to do. You werenât so sure what to do with yourself in his presence.
Your savior, your tormentor, your loverâ most importantly, Sumiâs father.
For a second you thought you had been reunited with him in hell, but this was real and so was he, he probably already heard about what kind of mother you turned out to be with him out of the picture.Â
âSweetheart,â he gently called out, hoping it would stop you from internally spiraling.Â
He had already had a clue of what your emotional state was like and figured you wouldâve been more in shock than anythingâ which was pretty clear from the way you seemed almost afraid to be around him.Â
He wanted nothing more than to smother you with everything he had in him, but after seeing how you literally thought you were dreaming, heâs convinced you might actually faint or worse from the abrupt change.Â
So heâll hold back on his urges, needing you to hold on to whatever sanity you had for now.
âDovey,â he gently called out to you again, finally pulling you out of your head.
âHm?â Your eyes began to sting as you watched the two of them.
âHave you given her an official name?â He asked in a hushed tone, rocking the girl in his arms.Â
âNo, I justââ you force the words out, looking down at the ground. âGiving her an official name wouldâve made it all too real.â
âYour attendants told me that you all call her Sumi?âÂ
âYeah.. musume was too long,â you admit rather shamefully, holding your breath.Â
You were expecting him to scold you or something over it, but he never did. All he did was smile and look back at his nameless child. Taking the word âdaughterâ and shortening it was amusing to him, very typical of you.Â
You beat yourself up over everything you couldnât bring yourself to do since she was born, your attendants gave him a brief rundown on everything before leaving.Â
But, you clearly tried, it was enough for him. He was sure it was enough for Sumi tooâ his chubby little daughter looks like sheâs never had her stomach growl once in her life, ever.Â
Being that she was exclusively breastfeedâ you clearly loved her with the way you made up for the areas you couldnât give enough in.Â
âHow about Sumire?â he asked as he continued to look at her admiration, fast asleep from hearing her mothers voice. âSumireâ that way we can all keep calling her Sumi.â
âI thought you hated flowers,â you say, because it was second nature to question the things that the king did, despite the fact that he had literally just come back from the dead.Â
Looking at how in awe he was of her moved you, the fact that he was back started to slowly settle.Â
He was okay with the fact that you couldnât find the will to do anything other than lay in bed right now. It was his turn now to pull you out of the dark, the way you unknowingly did with him at one point.Â
He was going to give you the reality you were sure you had been stripped ofâ and the first step was to actually name her.
âI like this flower,â he said, cradling his baby girl, supporting her head in his hand that was a lot larger. âI wonder which side she got her eye color from.â
âSumire,â you softly repeated the name to yourself. âI like that.â
âHas she always been this easy?â He asked, extremely impressed by how she didnât fuss once since heâs been with her.Â
âYeah, isn't she sweet?â A lump formed in your throat as you asked, the guilt of knowing you shouldâve spent more time with her washed over youâ especially when she never gave you a reason to need so many breaks from her.
It wasnât fair.
âThe sweetest,â he said before giving her a kiss on the forehead. âJust like her mama.â He felt the need to add that last part, you looked like you needed the reminder.
Your eyes followed him as he got up from the seat and walked past you to put her back in her crib. He was a natural with her, she didnât move or flinch at all while he set her down in the crib to finish the rest of her nap on her own.Â
The sight of them tugged on your heart strings, followed by a final snap after seeing the hurt in his eyes after you took a step back from him when he got too close to youâ you didnât even realize it.
âIm sorry,â your voice finally broke, covering your face as tears started to well in your eyes.
There was a slight frown on his face as he grabbed the back of your head and pushed you into his chest. Heâs never seen you look this defeated, everâ red stains on the corners of your eyes, visible veins scattered in the whites of them, the look of someone who could sleep for eternity and still be exhausted.
âDonât be sorry,â he said, sushing you as you began to silently weep into his chest. âI shouldnât have been gone as long as I was, at all.â
You attempted to say something, but it came out in broken whimpers and light heaving, all while he rubbed your back, trying his best to soothe you. It felt like your body was finally releasing all of the worries and tension itâs held on to since the day it was announced that he had officially gone missing.Â
He held you a little tighter as he felt his own guilt starting to sink in, kissing the top of your head and continuing to try to console you.Â
âDonât ever be sorry, I'm the one who left you all alone,â he says as he strokes your hair.Â
It was a strange feeling, in his head he was only gone for a few days but his body and soul naturally knew how long itâs actually been.
Too longâ even as he held you in his arms, there was still a deep yearning for you that gnawed away at him.Â
For the rest of the day it was just the three of you. You two avoided talking about what had actually happened to him, for now. You just wanted him to enjoy actually being back home and he wanted to focus on the two girls in his life.Â
It was never going to be enough to make up for all the lost time, but it was a start.
Summary: After years of friendship filled with banter, study sessions, and always having each otherâs back, a certain Gryffindor victory shifts everything between them. The lines theyâve carefully walked for so long start to blur, sparking a new closeness neither can ignore.
Note: english is not my first languaje so it probably has some mistakes!
Words: 1,9K
It was a Sunday morning, and the first days of spring had brought a warm glow over Hogwarts. The Gryffindor team had been training all morning under their new, overly enthusiastic captainâyour brother, James Potterâwho was determined to crush Slytherin in the upcoming match.
âWeâre telling you, Moony, heâs going to be the death of us!â Sirius groaned dramatically to Remus and Peter, clutching his chest with exaggerated despair. The table broke into chuckles, everyone except James.
âYouâre exaggerating,â James said, taking a long sip of his orange juice, looking unimpressed.
âHeâs really not, Jamie,â you interjected, giving him a pointed look. âItâs barely nine in the morning, and weâre here, fresh from a two-hour training session, just trying to enjoy breakfast,â you added, taking a bite of your toast.
James shrugged, grinning. âWhen we beat Slytherin, youâll all be thanking me.â
You and Sirius shared an eye roll, and Peter and Remus gave a small laugh. Soon, the Marauders shifted the conversation to other thingsâsomething about their latest plan to prank the Ravenclawsâbut you tuned them out, savoring the warmth of breakfast and the rare spring sun filtering through the Great Hall.
Beside you, Remus leaned in, speaking softly. âAre you still up for the study session with Lily later? Or do you want to take it easy after practice?â
Since your first year, Remus had always been the one to help you with studies when you needed it. Weekly study sessions had become a tradition, and once Remus and Lily had grown close, sheâd started joining you too.
âIâm still up for it,â you replied, turning to smile at him. âI have an essay due on that Goblin War of 1882, or something like that.â
âOh, yes, I remember that one from last year,â he said with a grin. âIâve got you covered. Same time in the library?â
âSame time,â you confirmed.
Later that afternoon, you made your way to the library, books and notes in hand. As you entered, you spotted Remus already sitting at your usual table, a few books spread out in front of him. He looked up, giving you a warm smile as he waved you over.
âHey! Ready to tackle the Goblin War of 1882?â he greeted with a grin, sliding a seat out for you.
âNot really, but Iâll try,â you replied with a laugh, settling down beside him.
As you set up your notes, you noticed that Lily was nowhere to be found. "Whereâs Lily? Donât tell me she bailed on us,â you joked, glancing around.
Remus chuckled, shaking his head. âShe did, actually. But only for a good reasonâyour brother convinced her to go for a walk around the lake.â
âOf course he did,â you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling at the thought of James finally winning Lily over enough to steal her for a date. âGuess itâs just us, then.â
âJust us,â he repeated his tone light but with the slightest hint of something softer, and you couldnât help but feel a warm flutter in your chest.
Remus pulled one of the books towards you, flipping to a section heâd marked. âSo, for your essay, youâre supposed to cover the lead-up to the war, right? I found a few bits in here that might help.â
âThank Merlin youâre here,â you sighed, leaning in to read over his shoulder. The proximity made your face warm, and you quickly turned your attention to the book to avoid giving yourself away.
He started explaining the notes heâd gathered, his voice soft and steady as he walked you through the political tensions and key events leading up to the conflict. You noticed how his hands moved as he spoke, gesturing in small, precise movements, and how his face lit up slightly as he explained things. There was something calming about the way he taughtâlike he wasnât just helping you study but making it genuinely enjoyable.
After a while, he paused, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. âYouâre actually getting this down quicker than I thought.â
âAre you doubting my historical expertise, Lupin?â you teased, glancing up at him with a smirk.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. âNot at all, but you did look a bit horrified earlier at breakfast when you mentioned the essay.â
You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. âAlright, fair point.â
A comfortable silence settled over you both as you continued writing, only broken occasionally by quiet questions and shared glances that made your heart race more than youâd like to admit.
Eventually, your attention drifted back to Remus, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned through one of the history books. âYou know, I never did get why youâre always so patient with me about this stuff.â You said softly âYou know you donât have to keep impressing James to be your friend, right?â you added playfully.
He looked up, surprised by the question but with a fond smile playing at his lips. âI knowâ he answered chuckling âI like spending time with you.â he replied simply, his voice barely above a whisper.
You felt a blush rising to your cheeks, and the air between you grew warm. âWell⊠I like spending time with you too,â you murmured back, feeling bolder than usual.
For a moment, you just looked at each other, the silence now filled with unspoken words and the quiet buzz of the library around you. Neither of you moved, and neither did anything to break the spell. Instead, you just smiled, feeling flustered and shy, but somehow happier than youâd been all day.
Remus cleared his throat softly, breaking the silence but not the mood. âSo⊠back to the Goblin War?â
You laughed, nodding. âBack to the Goblin War.â
And, as you returned to your notes, you couldnât help but wonder if, maybe, this little spark between you both was something he felt too.
A week after, the Gryffindor common room was a blur of red and gold, filled with cheers and music as everyone celebrated their win over Slytherin. As one of the Chasers, youâd played a crucial role, weaving through the Slytherin defense and scoring more than once, and your teammates and friends hadnât stopped congratulating you since.
As you moved through the room, basking in the praise and warmth of your friends, Remus caught your eye from across the room. He was leaning against the wall, holding a cigarette and smiling softly as he watched you. You made your way over to him, dodging tipsy students and sidestepping Sirius, who was in the middle of a very dramatic retelling of the match to a group of fourth years.
âHey,â he greeted, taking a drag of his cigarette. âYou were incredible out there.â
âThanks, Rem.â You grinned, taking a sip from your own drink. âIâd say I had to be. Slytherin was definitely out for blood.â
âTell me about it,â he chuckled. âI donât think Iâve ever seen you play like that.â
You rolled your eyes playfully. âIt is Slytherin, after all.â You smirked. âYou know, I wish you could come up there with me.â
He chuckled, shaking his head. âYouâd have to use a Sticking Charm to keep me on that broom, but... maybe someday.â
You grinned, holding out your pinky. âIâll hold you to that.â
He hooked his pinky with yours, giving you a look that made your heart skip. âFine. But only if you promise you wonât laugh when I fall off.â
âDealâ you whispered, still caught in his gaze.
âAlthough Iâm not sure if Iâll be as good as youâ he said softly.
The compliment caught you a bit off guard, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly, though you brushed it off with a laugh. âFlattery now, Lupin? Iâm not that easy.â
He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. âReally? Couldâve fooled me. You looked over the audience about five times during the game, couldnât keep your eyes off me.â
You laughed, nudging him. âMaybe you were distracting me.â You said playfully.
âWas I?â he asked, giving you that lazy, half-smile that made it impossible to tell if he was serious.
You smirked, folding your arms as you leaned in a little. âYeah. You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.â
The words slipped out, and for a split second, you wondered if youâd gone too far. But instead of getting flustered, Remus just laughed, a deep, warm chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.
He took a small step closer, his voice soft but playful. âSo what if I do?â
Suddenly, you found yourself speechless, your usual confidence shaken by the way he was looking at you. Your heart raced, cheeks burning, and you tried to come up with a clever comeback but failed miserably.
Remus chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. âDidnât expect that one, did you?â he teased gently, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment.
You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken as you looked up at him. âShut upâ you mumbled.
His smile softened, and he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you wanted to. But of course, you didnât. You closed the distance, meeting him halfway, and his lips were warm and soft against yours, filling you with a heady rush that made the whole world fade away.
His hands settled on your waist, fingers pressing gently as he pulled you closer, making your heart race. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, fingers finding their way into the soft strands of his hair, savoring the warmth radiating from him. The kiss was anything but rushed; it was slow, each movement filled with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes.
As the kiss deepened, you felt the world melt away, leaving only the feeling of his steady heartbeat against your chest, the gentle touch of his hands as he drew you impossibly closer, and the realization that youâd both been waiting, yearning, for this moment to unfold. When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispered, âYou really are something, you know that?â
But just as you were about to say something, you heard someone clear their throat beside you.
You both turned to find James standing there, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. âWell, well,â he said, raising an eyebrow, âabout time, donât you think?â
You felt your face go hot, scrambling to explain yourself, but James just rolled his eyes and chuckled. âPlease, Iâm just glad you finally got around to it. Just⊠no public displays around me, alright?â He winked and clapped Remus on the shoulder. âSheâs all yours, Moony. But you better take care of her, or Iâll be hexing you.â
âWouldnât dream of anything else, mate,â Remus replied, glancing at you with a smile that made your heart skip.
James gave you one last playful eye-roll before heading back into the crowd. And as you turned back to Remus, you felt that spark between you both grow even warmer, knowing that whatever this was, you werenât the only one who wanted it.
âAgain?â you ask him smiling widely, making him chuckle.
âAgainâ me muttered against your lips before kissing you.
Summary: In your uneventful first week at work, a man arrives to return a book two weeks late, and you decide to test his patience for a bit of fun.
Words: 2,3k.
TW: fem!reader. teasing. spencer from the firsts season with glasses meow. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: I'm putting a lot of myself here because teasing a little to flirt is so fun.
⥠Enjoy! âĄ
Spencer's day was quickly turning into a complete disaster, and anyone paying attention would notice. He thought that he probably looked like a lunatic. His glasses were misplaced, his hair was blowing in the wind, his pants were rumpled, and his bag was still open with a book that wasn't his on the verge of falling out. Normally he felt like a disaster, but this was beyond his usual limits. He didn't even know how he had gotten into this situation, let alone how he had managed to get up from the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before.
His feet made their way to the stairs of the library, which were quite imposing, and he struggled up them, holding on to the railing so as not to fall. He was somewhat taken aback when he walked through the door and noticed that the place was empty, without a single soul loitering or even browsing through a book. All the tables were empty and shiny, as if they had been cleaned recently and no one had used them since. Even the librarian's desk was empty, if a bit more cluttered with various books, papers, and pens strewn about.
Where was everyone? Was the place closed?
Reid was on the verge of departing, having considered the possibility that his time there might have been in vain. However, you emerged from behind the bookcase, observing him with a keen interest, almost as though you were equally taken aback by his presence as he was by yours.
âHi.â You were the first to speak without taking your eyes off him.
âHi.â He replied immediately, still showing a bit of his nervousness at your sudden presence. âI'm looking for the librarian. Do you know if she's here?â
As you listened to him, you walked to your desk and sat in the chair, feeling his gaze follow you. âHere I am.â You said, waving a hand to point to yourself.
He blinked a few times, his brain short-circuiting for a moment because you looked nothing like the woman who had been the librarian for years, with whom he always exchanged a few kind words and talked about the occasional book. She was probably three times your age, drank a lot of coffee, and didn't smile at him or anyone else as brightly as you did now.
âYou're the librarian now?â He repeated, tilting his head slightly, looking for confirmation on your face. Noticing your nod, he felt even more out of place with his disheveled appearance and tried to straighten his unruly hair to look more decent.
It might have been a bit silly, but the fact that you were so young and probably about his age made him a bit more nervous than he would have liked. His social skills were already not the best with anyone, but with a pretty girl they were even less so.
âYes, I am.â You confirm, noticing his slightly disheveled appearance at that moment. His subsequent attempt to clean himself up makes you chuckle internally as you watch him awkwardly try to look more presentable after learning who you are.
Spencer's curiosity grew by the minute. He looked at your desk, even though he had seen it before, but this time he noticed that most of the books there had dividers and post-it notes that made it obvious that you were reading them. He also noticed that the old caffeine smell that hit you as soon as you walked in was gone, and that was when he saw the cup of tea in your hands. It was clear to him that you had a different way of working than your predecessor. So he took a moment to watch in silence as you settled in.
âHow can I help you?â Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and startled him a bit.
He cleared his throat, hoping you hadn't noticed that he was trying to get to know you a little by spying on your stuff. His eyes moved quickly from the books on your desk to yours, pretending that nothing had happened and that he wasn't lost in his own thoughts.
âI've come to return a book.â He said after a few seconds, taking it out of his bag and placing it on the counter so you could take it.
You picked up the book and examined it with interest, running your fingers over the cover and checking that it was in good condition. It was the first time in your first week on the job that anyone had ever returned a book, or even approached your desk for anything more than asking where the bathroom was. After carefully checking to make sure the book was completely fine, you opened it to see if the due date was in order, and then you realized there might be a problem.
âMr. Reid, you should have returned this book two weeks ago.â You pointed it out after going through the file. âAnd you didn't ask for an extension.â
When Spencer heard your comment, he looked surprised; his eyes went to the floor, and then he looked back at you with a hint of embarrassment. He realized that he had almost completely forgotten about the book after working on several difficult cases in a row for days. He had barely had time to get a good night's sleep as he had to travel non-stop from city to city.
âI'm sorry, I...â He begins, rubbing the back of his neck. âI had every intention of returning the book, but unfortunately the policy here is not to grant extension after extensionâŠthe last few weeks have been pretty hectic. I have to admit that I lost track of time a bit. IâŠâ
At that moment, you noticed how nervous he seemed to be about the whole situation, and a somewhat wicked idea came to your mind to step into your total cliche librarian role.
âI understand your situation, Mr. Reid, but you are a regular visitor here, as far as I can see. The rules must be followed by all, and there are no exceptions.â You pointed as you handed the book back to the bookseller. âWhat if someone had wanted to read it? Imagine the sadness of someone who doesn't know if their favorite copy will ever be available again because someone missed the deadline.â
At your words, Spencer swallowed dryly, and a hint of horror came over his face at the thought that he might have prevented someone else from enjoying a good book. He automatically felt a bit selfish about it.
âI hadn't considered that.â He said, biting his lip nervously. âI really wanted to return it.â
Seeing him in all his nervous glory, you couldn't help but find him strangely adorable. You didn't understand how anyone could be so nervous about a library fine that wasn't even that high. You had already learned that most people didn't even bother to check out books because of the hassle and how easy it could be to forget to return them. Not everyone has a true appreciation for books, and to finally meet someone who does is comforting.
âThis is a very serious matter. How do you plan to compensate the poor soul who might have been interested in reading that book?â You added, observing his reactions with careful consideration.
He looked down again for a few seconds and then looked up to meet yours in the midst of his great nervousness. He felt somewhat exposed and vulnerable, so he thought about apologizing again, but your expression suggested that perhaps that wouldn't be sufficient this time.
âI...â He seemed to have run out of words, his brain working quickly to think of a worthy excuse. âI'll pay the fine, of course.â
âOh, certainly.â You laughed lightly at the obvious, easy way out I'd given him, and he raised an eyebrow as if expecting something else. âBut I think that's a bit mundane, don't you? You can't throw money at every problem that comes your way.â
Spencer's mind began to consider what other possibilities you might be alluding to. He even contemplated offering more or apologizing again until he noticed a subtle gesture that suggested you were holding back a smile. It was then that you stood up from your chair to be closer to his height, surprising him. He wasn't accustomed to someone being so suddenly close to him, which made his cheeks flush a little.
âCan I ask you a question?â Your breath brushed against his, which made him nod quickly, indicating his willingness to engage in further conversation. âAre you a book thief, Mr. Reid?â
The question takes you by surprise, and he is momentarily at a loss for words, just watching the way the soft light from the lamps hanging above you two reflected in your eyes. The unexpected proximity and the sudden question were not what he had envisioned in any of the thousand scenarios his mind created per second. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then answered, his voice slightly hoarse.
âA book thief?â He repeated, as his brain processed what you had just asked him. âNo, of course not. I would never...â
âThen what are you stealing, Mr. Reid?â You look into his eyes in a way that makes him shudder and feel both the urge to run away and the desire to never escape. âMaybe hearts?â
Spencer's cheeks reddened in a mixture of surprise and shock at your words. The idea of being considered someone capable of stealing hearts sounded so absurd to him. He stared at you, unable to find the right words to respond, his brain went blank for a few seconds, which was an unusual experience for someone like him. And the fact that you kept calling him âMr. Reidâ didn't help his heart stop beating so hard and his rational side come into focus a bit.
âWhat? I don't...I didn't...â He finally managed to stammer. âI don't steal hearts. IâŠI only read books. I love books.â He blurted out, noting how sappy that last sentence had sounded.
Tell a librarian that you love books. Really? That's a good response to a weird kind of flirtation?
Reid wanted to punch himself in the face.
âDid you know that a Yale University study found that those who read books live an average of two years longer than those who don't?â The words were pouring out of his mouth before he could control them and think about whether it was timely or not. âReading keeps the brain healthy and strong by keeping it active...which...which could be one of the reasons why those who read live longer.â
âWell, that's interesting. It seems like we'll be living longer.â You said this with a seriousness and interest that surprised him because he expected quite the opposite.
At that moment, you noticed that his glasses were out of place, and you couldn't help but feel the need to step closer and put them back on properly. As soon as you did, he froze. No one had ever done this before, and it seemed strangely intimate. He already felt quite vulnerable under your gaze, and your unexpected gesture made it even harder for him to keep his composure.
He swallowed dryly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. âUh...thank you.â He murmured, his voice a little shaky.
Despite his considerable expertise and success as a profiler, he felt somewhat uncomfortable in this particular situation. The feeling of being watched so closely, along with your questions and your touch, left him almost speechless and unable to profile you. He wasn't used to people catching him off guard like that, and he found it challenging to come up with a witty response that would make even the slightest impression. He felt a little out of his depth, and in a strange way, he liked it.
âIt's nothing, Spencer.â You replied with a smile.
His first name...it's possible that he had never liked to be called that name as much as he did until that moment, when it came from your lips.
âMay I call you that?â Your voice brought him out of his thoughts again.
âYes, absolutely. Please.â He replied too quickly and now wishes he hadn't. He probably sounded foolish.
âWell, Spencer.â You repeated his name again, simply for the joy of it, which caused him to smile and try to talk again.
But the moment had to break suddenly.
You were both taken aback by the sudden opening of the front door, which prompted Reid to refocus his attention as soon as you both turned away from each other. You sat back in your chair, patiently awaiting the arrival of the newcomer. And at that moment, the former librarian appeared with a bag from a nearby restaurant in her hand, watching the two of you with interest.
âHi mom.â You said.
His eyes widened as he looked back and forth between you, the former librarian, and the door. He was trying to understand the situation and how he hadn't foreseen it before. He hadn't even considered that there might be a relationship between the woman he had known for years and you, as you hadn't mentioned anything either.
âMom?â He was frowning.
Spencer's phone suddenly rang, a high-pitched, shrill sound that echoed throughout the library, breaking the rule of silence. However, it was a rather timely interruption, giving him a chance to regain his composure and escape the increasingly uncomfortable and confusing situation. After apologizing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, saw the caller ID, and breathed a sigh of relief that it was his work.
âSorry.â He muttered, his eyes darting between you and your mother, barely noticing the resemblance between the two of you. âI...I have to go, but thank you for the help. I won't forget to return a book again.â
And with that, he left.
âI think I scared him.â You said to your mother as the door closed behind him, and the sound of his footsteps as he walked away confirmed that he wouldn't hear you.
summary; you tell spencer he is your best friend to you its a indication of more to him its rejection.
warnings; best friends to lovers expect they dont make it to lovers whoops, angst whoops again, i think all lovers should be best friends, (un) requited feelings (ur both idiots) its short and honestly i dont remember writing this, mentions of dating other people but like whatever
an; yk that line in âyou are in loveâ by taylor swift thats like pauses, then say, youâre my best friend, and you knew what it was, he is in love? thats what gave me this idea im also just really fucking sad tonight and i miss my ex idk im also trynna be aesthetic am i aesthetic
any other night you wouldn't of cared to notice the way the streetlights blarred through the raindrops on the window or how the dark clouds lined the sky covering every showing star in their path. you wouldn't have noticed any of that if you weren't so focused on beiing focused on anything else.
anything other than spencer reid who was sitting beside you, driving you home. the case you had just got back from was long and angonizing. it was a complete pain to get through and it wasn't a secret that the entirety of the team were all ready to get home to their families and their own beds.
so, you weren't exactly estatic when remembering you hadn't driven to the office a week ago after being called in for the case, you were instead dropped off by your friend after the two of you needed to talk.
so you were car-less, and tired.
spencer reid, your best friend and possibly the nicest person on earth offered to drive you home without a second thought. even though he was equally as tired and ready to curl up into his own bed, he said he would drive you home and then refused to listen to any argument about it.
"are you okay" your head snapped towards the sound of his voice, his eyes glancing between you and the road, obviously noticing the rather disorientated look covering your features as you stared out the windshield.
you nodded, eyebrows furrowing. "yeah- yeah im just tired" it wasn't a lie, you were tired. you were also insanely confused about the feelings weighing on your chest everytime your eyes lingered on his for a moment too long.
he hummed, eyes returning to the road. you took that as your chance to look back at his face, bad idea.
your eyes danced over the curve of his nose and the line of his jawline and then the softness of his eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes every time he blinked or squinted at the bright lights of the road. you studied every indent over the soft skin of his cheeks and cheekbones that you could see from his side profile and your stomach warmed.
you turned your head away when that feeling returned, the one you were hyperaware of. it made your stomach feel as if it was burning a hole in itself, your heart ache and flutter at once and your head spin with the fact that it was wrong. so wrong.
âhowâs ethanâ he asked, his eyes remaining set on the road as he voice remained soft and quiet, like it seemed to always be when he spoke to you.
your eyes widened for a brief moment of the guy you had been, half kind of dating â if you could even call it that. you had been on a few dates. ethan worked at the coffee shop not to far from the bullpen, and asked you out two weeks ago. being surrounded by derek, emily and spencer didnât exactly help the overwhelming expectation that fell on your shoulders in that moment.
derek answered for you, actually, in that moment. he had said youâd love to, and then teased you the entire way back to the bullpen after getting your coffee and you didnât have the heart to pull out of the date, it wasnât actually that bad â there was just something not right.
the more you hung out with ethan the more you realised there wasnât actually anything wrong with him, he was nice, respectful, he made you laugh and you could talk easily. he was nothing short of a gentleman.
it was just, every-time the two of you had a conversation you waited for a absentmindedly long ramble about something random or a correction on one of something you pointed , and it never came. you waited for doctor who to be brought up and it never was. the movies you watched with ethan were rom coms and chick flics, or comedyâs rather than documentaries, or science films, or films in other languages that you had to rely on subtitles for.
he wasnât spencer.
that was the only issue, and that why you had broken off with him before you went on this case, actually you had just finished breaking it off with him when you got the call which was why you were car-less since he had dropped you off.
you couldnât in good conscience keep hanging around ethan after realising you had feelings for your best friend. you told him the truth and how understanding and respectful he was about it only made the guilt build deeper in your ribcage.
âi broke it offâ you told spencer honestly. you wouldnât lie or play it off there was no point in that. spencer would find out eventually you just wished that being honest didnât mean it would come with questions.
his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, as his eyes flickered between the road and your face for a moment, you kept your gaze to the ground of the car, focusing on the carpeted floor rather than the feelings that swarmed in your chest that you honestly wished would just swallow you whole and get you as far away from actually feeling them.
âwhy? did he do something?â it was curious and gentle, like he was genuinely worried that this guy had done something that had hurt you â and it made your chest ache painfully, you genuinely felt physical chest pain at the sound of his words as they processed through your mind.
you shook your head quickly anyways, âno, he was.. good, great.. i justâ didnât feel it, yâknow?â you huffed out, eyes still refusing to meet his. you were scared if you did that the confession would come blabbering pass your lips without a second thought because you were so use to telling him everything.
he let out a sigh of relief, glad that you werenât upset or that this guy hadnât done anything to hurt you. âi get itâ he replied, his voice was gentle and careful. you wondered if he genuinely did â he always seemed to have a power of just reading your mind yet this time you were almost sure that wouldnât be the case.
the car was pulling into park out side the front of your house moments later, and you felt a sort of sick feeling in your stomach. one that was indescribable to a t. the sort of feeling that left a bad taste in the back of your throat and made your stomach twist, the sort that left goosebumps trailing down your arms and the hairs stand on the back of your neck.
he said your name so quietly as if he had something important he needed to say. for the first time that car ride, since you had left the bau you met his eyes and every emotion you had pushed down into the darkest part of yourself bubbled all up to the surface again.
his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was trying to debate something, lips parted then closed in indecision, before he let out a half shaky breath, his eyes studying your features like yours to his. you felt your stomach twist.
âi need to tell you-â
you cut him off and you didnât even mean to, âyouâre my best friend, spencer.â that was all you said.
and honestly it held so much weight to you it almost felt like a confession in itself, he was your best friend, he was your person. he knew you better then you knew yourself, he knew you better than anyone ever would, he memories every scar on your skin, every little thing that effected you in a way that differed from others, spencer knew you, you loved him and he was your best friend
he was your best friend in a, i want you in my life forever kind of way. i want you by my side no matter what life throws at us, i want to know that no matter what happens you remain a constant.
you needed him to remain constant.
his lips closed at your words, eyebrows furrowing a little deeper to the point the skin between the crinkled slightly. there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you wouldâve noticed if he hadnât pushed it away before you could.
âyouâre my best friend too.â he breathed out.
to spencer, you were the sun. everything obits you and your existence, he would give anything to be a planet that was blessed enough to be in your orbit. if he got a glimpse of you throughout the day his heart would remain beating properly in his chest and his feelings would remain a little lighter on his mind, you were calming, you were his safe place. you were his favourite part of everyday.
you were the one thing that kept him from falling apart half the time. you were his best friend and he was in love with you, so in love with you that he shut his mouth every time you went on a date with a different guy, because if you were happy and he got to keep you as a part of his life he wouldnât beg for different.
you were his best friend and so he pretended like his heart didnât hurt so impossibly much when you came to him when those said dates didnât work out or ended badly and you rambled about how you thought there was something wrong with you, because how could you think that when to him the entire solar system fought to be in your orbit?
if you hadnât cut him off he wouldâve told you all of that.
instead he watched you wave him goodbye as you walked back into your house, a weight on his chest, at the words left unsaid that danced on his tongue behind his closed lips. âyouâre my best friendâ
his mind replayed the words with the reminder that that was all he would be to you, that was all he could be and he wanted to fight it and pull back and tell you exactly how he felt and the deepness his feelings fell to,
but then again at least this way he meant something to you.
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
dededos
origamiaround
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
snowghoul
