#auo

[warped-paranoia]

AUO

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession • Nate Jacobs •

four. according to plan

Summary: In which progress is made faster than Ophelia had anticipated. Friendship with Jules is solidified, friendship with Lexi is questioned, and Nate makes Ophelia an offer she has to refuse.

Warnings: self injury as a form of manipulation, gaslighting, implied obsessive behaviour, manipulative behaviour.

A/N: 3903 words. s3 wasn't good... save me Euphoria I Created In My Head To Cope With The Actual Show.... save me blorbo...... anyways I know its been a year but I literally write something about these characters DAILY. crazy how little is the actual fic. see you soon. or in another year!

{ masterpost }

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

---

The next morning, Ophelia spends hours staring at her own phone in disbelief. Most of last night's conversation with Nate was kind of a blur; she remembers the heady rush she'd felt when talking with him, panicking when he'd taken her phone, and how her heart had sung when she'd realised that he'd been messaging her when she'd gotten home. At the time, she hadn't even thought to question how he'd even know that she'd gotten home, but that following morning she sees she shared her location with him through Uber. She doesn't remember doing that. She also has no recollection of calling him, but her phone definitely says she's the one who made that call. Fuck, she really hopes she didn't come on too strong.

The other thing that catches her attention is the last text Nate had sent, after their call. Again, the fact that she already has his number makes her get all giggly in the privacy of her own room, rereading his texts over and over again.

Nate😘🍆: glad you got home safe

It's not enough for Ophelia. She wants to be on his mind as often as possible. She wants him to think of her even if he tries to convince himself he shouldn't. So she wants to make him believe she got home mostly safe. Perhaps something happened to her in the brief time between leaving the party and their call, something very small, but something that makes him think she'd be better off as long as he was around. At least, that's what she wants him to believe.

But makeup won't last all day. If it's going to be believable, it's going to hurt. Isn't that part of the point? She wouldn't have to hurt herself, wouldn't have to slam the heel of her hand into the gravel flower bed out the back of her house until it bled, if he'd stayed with her. If he'd come home with her. Hell, she wouldn't be doing this if he had even just asked her to stay with him. She hopes it hurts for days. She hopes it hurts him to look at it.

She meticulously picks dirt and gravel from her grazed and lightly bloodied right hand. The choice to injure her non-dominant hand has been a deliberate one. Once she cleans it up, she takes a photo of the scrape before dressing it. The rest of the day she spends sketching the photo of her injury, and a little portrait of Nate from the night before from memory while The Nanny plays in the background.

😇🚬: thank u for looking out for me 😅💕 😇🚬: also sorry for calling at midnight;;; don't know why i did that whoops Nate😘🍆: i asked you to. don't you remember? 😇🚬: I don't even remember calling u tbh 😇🚬: did you ask me to send my location on Uber too? Nate😘🍆: you sent it in case you fell asleep before you could call. Nate😘🍆: don't worry so much. you were fine, cinderella 😇🚬: considering how drunk i got I think it's smart that I left when I did Nate😘🍆: maybe but you were still fun company Nate😘🍆: am I not allowed to be disappointed you left 😇🚬: you're allowed just like I'm allowed to not believe you 😅😅 Nate😘🍆: why would I lie? 😇🚬: why would you be disappointed to see me go? Nate😘🍆: maddie doesn't usually have friends like you 😇🚬: is that good? 😅 Nate😘🍆: still figuring that out

Something in Ophelia's heart sinks; he's back to acknowledging Maddie. That's not a good sign. But still, small victories must be acknowledged when they're won; Nate finds her interesting, and she's set herself apart from the kind of girls he usually, actually interacts with.

There's also a text from Jules, asking her if she'd survived the night before, and inviting her to the mall if she had.

Arm in arm, they walk through the mall together, browsing idly with no true goal in mind. Jules is playfully exasperated by how well Ophelia pulled herself together despite how drunk she'd apparently gotten the night before.

"Listen, before, like, the night we met, I hadn't had painkillers in over a year," Ophelia shrugged helplessly, "now I only use them when I need to so they actually work."

"Wait what?" A bewildered laughed escaped Jules as she slows to a halt, forcing Ophelia to stop too, "what do you mean you haven't had painkillers in a year? You were just, like, suffering for a year?"

For a moment, Ophelia has to bite down on the urge to tell her 'that isn't suffering' with knee-jerk defensiveness. Instead, after letting the instinct pass, she shrugs, admitting that her body had built up a tolerance... for reasons she doesn't feel like explaining. A look of apology, a look almost like pity, flashes across Jules's expression for the barest moment, but Ophelia turns away.

"It is what it is," it's almost forcibly cheerful, continuing on and tugging Jules along, "I'm just glad they're working again."

"Clearly," Jules decides to drop the hint of angst that Ophelia had been quick to brush past, matching her bright energy, "you seem more enthusiastic about today than I am."

"Despite the drunkenness," or maybe because of it, Ophelia thinks, "I had a really lovely night," grinning at her blonde friend, she gives Jules's arm a squeeze, "and now I'm having a really good day; what's not to be enthusiastic about?"

Ophelia's never been to the mall with anyone but her dad, so going with Jules is an entirely new experience for her. While they spend the late morning browsing stores, they take lunch in the food court in the early afternoon. They both indulge with burgers, and Jules spends the entire time telling Ophelia about the guy she's been talking to online. Tyler. The reason she's been giving her phone so much attention recently, it turns out.

Quietly, Ophelia wonders what this means for what was blossoming between Jules and Rue, or if she'd simply imagined that; she's still getting used to having her friends actually around her.

Sunday Lexi invites her over, though she seems almost scandalised hearing Ophelia had gone to party with the footballers, or that she'd even gone to the game at all. Yet again she seems confused by the choices Ophelia's making, down to the casual clothes she's chosen for the day.

"Why do you look so made up?" Lexi laughs as she's letting Ophelia in. When Ophelia tries to brush it off, saying she was simply trying to get into the habit, Lexi's expression scrunched, "what habit?"

"Looking nice," Ophelia shrugged awkwardly, settling on the sofa, "not looking like a dirtbag all the time."

"You weren't a -" but Lexi stops herself when she catches sight of the look Ophelia is giving her, "you looked fine!" She insisted, "it was - you were grunge, or... ska? I think? Ska punk?" Though it doesn't land with certainty, and the girls both find themselves on Google images in the next moment.

"I was never this put together," Ophelia laughed, "I'll take grunge, but you're being too kind. It's not a bad thing that I want to change up my aesthetic."

"Yeah, but you don't need to wear mascara to hang out with me," Lexi pointed out, for which Ophelia didn't have a real answer, "what about the start of - what, your senior year? - made you want to change everything about yourself?"

Defensive, venomous responses sit just behind Ophelia's teeth in this moment. The idea of admitting to the largest part of her truth feels like prying open her ribs; how was she meant to explain that for the first time in her life, she liked the person who looked back at her from the mirror? How the hell was she meant to explain that she'd finally stopped feeling like someone in active recovery, without explaining what she'd actually had to recover from? Despite her intentions, some of that vitriol must show on her face, since Lexi goes to back track, apologizing, attempting to explain herself, though it still comes out awkwardly.

"I guess, I don't know, it's just weird; you look like you should be friends with Cassie, not me, you know?" She folds herself up on the sofa beside Ophelia, legs curled up beneath herself, unable to bring herself to say anything more. It's at least understandable, if incredibly telling. Softening momentarily, Ophelia lets herself forgive Lexi for her insecurities. 

"Are you worried that we're going to stop being friends?" 

"I don't know, maybe?" Lexi admits, worrying her lip, "is that shallow?"

"I don't think so..." regarding her friend with faint amusement for a few seconds more, Ophelia's expression shifts, "wait, do you think I'm shallow now?" Lexi's guilty wince is answer enough. But after a beat, Ophelia shrugs easily, "maybe I am, but like, focusing my intentions on the opposite thing now." 

"Maybe I'm shallow," Lexi muses, surprisingly genuine concern furrowing her brow, but Ophelia shrugs once more, blithely offering that everyone is in this town, which Lexi is more than happy to agree with. In the next breath, she asks what happened to Ophelia's hand, and Ophelia laughs easily about how she can't quite remember, that she must have tripped getting into her house after Friday night. For just a moment, Lexi looks uneasy, but at least she lets it drop.

It's the early afternoon when Ophelia's phone lights up with a text from Nate. They're halfway through watching a video essay on YouTube about the Avatar Theme park, and the message alert catches the attention of both girls; Lexi sees his name, even if she doesn't catch the full text. 

Nate😘🍆: what do you do besides smoke and look pretty?

"Who's Nate?" Lexi asks when Ophelia's phone lights up with a text, "it's not..." she sounds dubious as Ophelia returns with a glass of water from the kitchen, "this isn't Nate Jacobs texting with an eggplant emoji beside his name in your phone?"

"Ew," Ophelia responds reflexively, "no, why would you-" she picks up her phone, reading the message. For a moment, her expression softens at his sustained interest in her before she composed a lie for Lexi, "Nathan's from Canada, I met him on the plane back from Sweden, his family had a layover at LAX."

"And the eggplant emoji?" Lexi's eyebrows raised, to which Ophelia made a show of growing uncomfortable at.

"We fooled around in the first class bathroom while everyone else on the plane was asleep -"

"Oh my god," Lexi giggled, once again sounding scandalised, "did you, like, join the mile high club?"

"Did who join the mile high club?" Comes Cassie's voice as she swans in through the front door. The moment she sees Ophelia her expression lights up with genuine fondness. Lexi bursts out into giggles, while Ophelia plays at being mortified as Cassie waves to whoever dropped her home, probably McKay.

"Wait, are we talking about Lia?" Cassie gasps with delight, "have you actually hooked up on a plane?" After kicking off her shoes, Cassie flops herself down on Ophelia's other side, practically glowing with intrigue.

"We just fooled around!" Ophelia insisted, slumping over into Cassie's lap with her face in her hands, "we made out and I touched his- his- his-"

"His dick?" Cassie actually snorted, to which Ophelia doubled down on her innocent act.

"His thing!"

"She touched his dick," Cassie tells her sister sagely, who was herself recovering from laughter.

"Yeah, I got that," Lexi managed, sounding like she was still grinning from ear to ear, "now he's Mister Eggplant?" This sets Cassie off again, since she didn't have the original context for Ophelia's initial lie. Ophelia just buries her face in her hands; all she can do is laugh in defeat. She definitely has to change his name in her phone.

It's a nice day, all things considered, Cassie quickly switching to rambling about her date with McKay. Their mom ends up joining the girls, and Cassie splays out across the other sofa in their living room, her head in her mom's lap as they end up restarting the YouTube video to watch from the start, watching another two by the same YouTuber before Ophelia decides to make her way back home. 

After making herself dinner and finishing off her homework for the weekend, Ophelia sets up her laptop to keep watching a sitcom she was halfway through, while opening her art book to a page full of sketches and paintings of a little, brown rabbit with wings. It's late when she gets another text from Nate. 

flyboy🔥: didn't realise you had a boyfriend 😇🚬: ??? flyboy🔥: heard youre getting dick pics from a guy you fucked on a plane

Honestly she hadn't expected the news to reach him that fast. Cassie and Maddie were quick... and couldn't be trusted. Obviously. Still, she plays along.

😇🚬: OH!! well if anyone asks i never slept with him, we just fooled around a bit flyboy🔥: did not expect you to be that kind of girl 😇🚬: ... what kind of girl?? flyboy🔥: a slut lol 😇🚬: pretty sure lying to people about kissing a boy on an airplane doesn't make me a slut lol 😇🚬: not that I have anything against sluts, I admire their confidence flyboy🔥: what are you even talking about 😇🚬: I'm just saying that I literally do not even meet the baseline for the definition of a slut 😅 😇🚬: oh and the thing aboiy the plane is also a complete lie i made up to explain why i was getting texts from Nate😘🍆 😇🚬: *about flyboy🔥: 😶 😇🚬: bold emojis to give urself btw i was half convinced u were hitting on me 😅 flyboy🔥: all your other contacts had cute emojis flyboy🔥: and maybe I was hitting on you. whose to say. 😇🚬: 😳! then im double sorry if I was weird last night I've never been hit on before haha flyboy🔥: I could tell lol 😇🚬: oh god don't say that 🫣 flyboy🔥: anyways if you want your story to be more believable i can send pics 😇🚬: how would that b more believable if they can see it's u haha flyboy🔥: not pics of my face..... 😇🚬: 😳🫣 oh u mean THOSE kinds of pics 😇🚬: again I never actually fooled around with a boy in a first class bathroom so u don't need to do that but thanks !! flyboy🔥: relax princess i was joking, im not hitting on you anymore 😇🚬: oh... okay? flyboy🔥: made up with maddie kind of 😇🚬: oh lovely! happy for u guys 🥰 😇🚬: wait are we still allowed to be friends?? flyboy🔥: cute 😇🚬: im serious you're nicer than I thought apart from when u thought I was a slut flyboy🔥: 😂 yes we can be friends flyboy🔥: sorry I called you a slut 😇🚬: out of curiosity........... 😇🚬: what kind of girl do u assume I am.... 😇🚬: like in that context......... flyboy🔥: 😏 😇🚬: again I'm being serious, you said smthn abt it earlier and I'm curious flyboy🔥: honestly before this conversation I wasn't quite sure. you don't swear but you do smoke flyboy🔥: you could have secretly been a slut I guess. like you could go either way. 😇🚬: ....... I mean theoretically haha flyboy🔥: but if last night was your first time being hit on flyboy🔥: I can imagine what other firsts you still haven't had 😇🚬: 😳 flyboy🔥: you're the one who asked, princess flyboy🔥: am I wrong? 😇🚬: 😳😳😳 flyboy🔥: so it's fine when you lie about it but you get all 😳 just thinking about the real thing? you're the one who asked lol 😇🚬: tbh I was a mortified blushing mess when I came up with the lie too 🤭😳 flyboy🔥: you're so cute 😇🚬: also you're..... um no you're not exactly wrong haha flyboy🔥: about you being cute? 😇🚬: Sure. Yeah. Let's go with that. 😳👍

It's a strange line that she walks, texting Nate like this while still playing innocent. Now he knows she's lied to Cassie, and by extension Maddie, about who she's talking to. Of course she knows the risks, knows it's wrong to want him the way she does when he's already in a perpetual thing with Maddie that dances between situationship and relationship without ever properly ending. Surely he's still taken enough by her innocent act that he doesn't see how intentional her subterfuge is. Either way, he does seem glad for it; Ophelia would put good money on him hiding these exchanges from Maddie too, even if they are talking about getting back together.

The next text comes on Monday morning, in home room. For the first time, despite passing her most mornings, Nate must have noticed Ophelia on his drive to school. It's a block away from the school, Nate slows just enough that she notices, though she pretends not to recognise his truck, and her phone goes off after the bell rings.

When he asks if she always walks to school, she bites back a smile. When he tells her to call if she needs a ride in future, a foggy, drunken memory surfaces; Nate's voice calling her pretty and helpless. Making a token effort at bashfulness, she responds that she doesn't want him going out of his way for her, to which Nate tells her with an air of nonchalance, that her place is on his way to school anyways.

An absolute lie, Ophelia knows for a fact. Butterflies, even as she insists that she likes the walk. Too much, too soon, to accept that offer. Thankfully Nate let's it drop, but tells her the offer is always there.

Before lunch, Ophelia runs into Cassie touching up her makeup in the bathroom, and gets caught up on the fact that Maddie and Nate are talking again. Maddie's not happy about it - clearly, if she was already venting to Cassie - but apparently he'd gone out of his way to spend most of the football after party following 'some girl' and acting all cosy and flirty with her to make Maddie jealous. Some of the footballers had been talking about it, but apparently all they'd noticed was Nate arguing, or maybe play-fighting with the girl, since they'd heard her when she'd yelled for him to give her phone back. Maddie didn't exactly know what to believe, but either way she was jealous. It had worked, evidently.

It's at this point that Cassie asks if Ophelia had seen at all, or maybe knew the girl in question, that she'd lost track of Ophelia rather early into the party. Ophelia claims to have left incredibly early, smiling easily with a shrug.

"Not my scene, yet, I think I need more exposure therapy," she laughed. Cassie gave an amused eye roll right as Ophelia's phone goes off with a text notification in her hand. Its Nate, though Ophelia tells her its 'flyboy' and Cassie asks if they've exchanged nudes yet. Ophelia finds herself genuinely flustered at the thought, quickly shaking her head.

Cassie calls her cute, but also says she should, if she wants to join the rest of them in the twenty-first century.

Things return to a strange kind of normal after that. Ophelia acts sunny in passing at school, but not at all fond or familiar with Nate, but then again neither does he. His gaze sweeps dismissively over her in the halls, and in a glance all she gets is the same, detached disdain as before. Still, for all they act like they don't know each other, they text far more frequently than either would ever admit to.

flyboy🔥: what are you wearing?

The text comes through at lunch, halfway through the week, while Ophelia's sitting with Rue, Jules, and Lexi. The surprised noise she makes gets the attention of the others, who immediately turn their attention to her. Looking to Lexi, who already knew of the boy on Ophelia's phone, Ophelia nervously tells her what 'flyboy' had just sent. The girls go into a gleeful frenzy at that, only exacerbated when Lexi explains to the others the story Ophelia had made up.

😇🚬: excuse me?? 😇🚬: i thought you weren't hitting on me flyboy🔥: now I am. you need the practice. 😇🚬: excuse You?? flyboy🔥: at least this time you picked up on it flyboy🔥: stop blushing this is why u need the practice 😇🚬: how did you even know I was blushing??? flyboy🔥: lucky guess flyboy🔥: but I was right wasn't I?

With Jules now practically draped over her shoulders and reading every message as they're exchanged, the lie gets more complicated, yet somehow more in line with the truth. 'Flyboy' said he just wanted to be friends after the incident on the plane, except now he was the one hitting on her. For practice.

"You couldn't even say 'dick' when you were talking about how you touched his," Lexi pointed out, amusement shining in her eyes, "I think he could be right, you could use the practice."

"Lexi -!"

"You fucked him and you can't even say dick?" Jules crowed with fond amusement.

"Or fuck," Rue added, grinning in her own right.

"Tell him what colour bra you're wearing," Jules insisted with glee.

"It's black," Ophelia mumbles, playing up how flustered she felt with their combined attention on the situation, "and I didn't sleep with him."

"Really?" For a moment, Rue sounded genuinely surprised, eyes flicking to Ophelia's chest like she somehow developed x-ray vision. Or maybe she was thinking about Ophelia and the implications of black underwear, that perhaps she wasn't as innocent as she seemed. But it passed quickly, and Jules captures Ophelia's attention once more, telling her to tell 'Flyboy', not them.

Before Ophelia can respond to anyone, the bell for class goes, and the girls start to collect their things and disperse.

"And if he wants proof," Jules adds as she's collecting her bag, coy gaze looking Ophelia over for just a moment as she smirked, "you should show him."

"Jules -! I- I don't- that's not- !" Ophelia babbles, acting overwhelmingly flustered.

God, sometimes Ophelia wished her chosen persona had even half the sexual confidence of Jules. That night at McKays party had been so much fun... until it wasn't. But she'd made her choice, and now she had to take things slower.

😇🚬: I've been advised to tell you...... I'm wearing Black. flyboy🔥: advised by who 😇🚬: friends who think you're right and that I do need your help with this flyboy🔥: smart friends 😇🚬: they don't really know who im talking to tho 😅 flyboy🔥: i figured flyboy🔥: you don't seem to make friends with people who like me 😇🚬: not on purpose!! 😇🚬: and Maddie likes you flyboy🔥: depends on the day 😇🚬: does it matter? flyboy🔥: are you really friends with Jules Vaughn 😇🚬: yes. 😇🚬: why flyboy🔥: just be careful flyboy🔥: I'm starting to think you're too nice for your own good

Nate and Jules' beef has nothing to do with Ophelia, she decides, but also decides to interpret the warning as his way of looking out for her. Almost immediately after, however, he decides to circle back around to his initial question, letting her know he doesn't believe her. He saw her that morning, walking to school in that little lavender shrug and purple, flouncy skirt; honestly he doesn't even believe she owns any black clothes, tells her he can't imagine her in them. When Ophelia reminds him that she'd been wearing black stockings the other night, she can practically hear Nate roll his eyes when he says that's different.

Then he tells her to prove it.

After getting settled in her second to last class for the day, she deliberates before telling him that he could always ask Maddie; they'd had gym that morning after all. Of course they both know he won't do that, so she suggests that he'll simply have to trust her, and be satisfied with whatever his imagination can come up with.

For now.

[asralovecuchulainn]

Slut (affectionate)

[bihansthot]

In the vein of my previous post about struggling with yumeshipping I am feeling like I’m falling back in love with Gilgamesh, maybe that’s why I’ve been struggling with my others? Which Gilgamesh is your favorite? I think mine is Prototype but I haven’t had a chance to see Strange/Fake yet. Hands down Archer Gil will always be my Gilgamesh of choice, the design of Caster Gil is nice but it just doesn’t hit the same.

[gingarobokaiser9000-go]

ATK up ↑

[neon-noe]

AUO!

[crazy-rich-king-of-mongrels]

when Vimana is currently out of gas

[absinthe-and-abstinence]

An Unhealthy Obsession: Chapter 19

A Heart-to-Heart, and an Eye-to-Eye

TW: yelling, reckless driving, language, slight (?) non-consensual activity, partial nudity, and biting-ish?

Aw, man! You all have been amazing readers, and I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story so far. I didn't think I'd really get a pair of eyes on this; the fact it's getting as popular as it is getting is unbelievable to me. Thank you all. More content is coming your way, and that means more answers, and more questions. I'm always available on Tumblr or my Twitter as well. Thank you all, and enjoy. X

Previous Chapter | Master List | Next Chapter

You yelled as you raced down the highway, afraid that the interstate cameras might catch your plate and you.

“Why didn’t you leave with them? You had the chance!”

He hadn’t calmed down yet. “I know, I know…” he muttered as he wrestled his hands through his hair.

“Jesus Christ, Spence. I kidnapped you and even I know how stupid that is.”

His body trembling, he put up his hand to his face. “I-I…”

“You’re not anything. You’re just stupid.”

Your emotions were too intertwined and intense to untangle. Were you mad? Disappointed? Relieved? Confused? Scared? Perhaps, but you were so caught up in this moment that you couldn’t decipher anything. The only emotion you could define was the panic that was written all over the face of Spencer.

“You told me to get in the car,” he whispered.

“No, I didn’t,” you hissed, “I told you to make a decision. I had to leave and your team was right there. God, Spencer, why didn’t you go with them?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready to go back, maybe I was just scared…I…”

You raced down the highway, going faster than any speed limit required.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one who made the decision, I’m just asking you why!”

He ran his hand up to his hair and pulled on it.

“It really doesn’t help when you yell at me, you know.”

You sat there, face flushed and red. Regardless of anything else you felt, you decided you were absolutely pissed off. You sat there, simmering and steaming as he tried to calm himself down.

“Please, Spence, just say something. Anything.”

His breathing was beginning to slow down again.

“Their faces looked so scared when they saw me. Like they saw a ghost.”

“Well,” you replied exasperated, “you have been technically missing for months. If you were looking for one of them who went missing; how’d you feel when you found them again? What if it was Derek that had gone missing?”

“You know,” he laughed, “how do you even know what Derek’s like? You’ve never met him.”

You kept your eyes on the road. “I think you’re forgetting I’m the crazy, obsessive villain here. Watching you meant watching the people around you too.”

“That is one of the scariest things someone has ever said to me.”

You chuckled, then remembered instantly your anger and frustration. You forced the smile off your face and turned onto your exit. How could he be so irritating, making you smile while seeing red?

“Anyway. They’ve only gotten one call from you, and the first time they see you again – you run? You don’t think that’s terrifying to them?”

“I-I, uh, I didn’t think about that.”

“Spence. Again; how would you react?”

He fidgeted with his hands, locking and interlocking his fingers. “Also scared. Confused. Shocked.”

The house began to become visible within the ghostly dark forest. It was still a far ways off, but you could start to make it out.

“So why did you run?”

“I don’t know…I guess I’m just afraid of losing you?”

You almost slammed on your brakes.

“…What?”

“I-I’m not sure. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, I just don’t want that to happen to you.”

Something inside you snapped, and you shut down. At this point, you didn’t know if you were blushing or if you were reaching your boiling point. He seemed nervous, glancing back at you to see if you’d speak again. You remained silent, and kept your face emotionless. In the corner of your eye you could see his hands continue to fidget and flop around, but you didn’t care.

Finally, you arrived at the house. You marched out the car door and stomped up to the front door. Forcibly placing the key inside the lock, you slammed open the front door and turned on the hallway light before Spencer had even shut his passenger side door.

You waited for him behind the corner, listening to hear him come up the front steps and through the door. As soon as he shut the front door and turned around, you caught him off guard.

“Listen, Spence. I think you’ve forgotten who I am,” you growled.

“I, I know who you are, Y/N,” he stammered.

You led him up against a wall and pinned him there with your hands on each side of his body.

“I’m not someone you miss, Spencer. I’m someone who took you from your friends and family to a house in the middle of nowhere.”

He stared down at you, taking a gulp of air.

“You want to know how I got you here? I drugged your coffee with cough syrup; did you know that? I figured you should know that.”

The words escaped your lips on their own, unaware if this was a fear tactic or a confession.

“You had an electric collar around your neck, do you remember that? I tied you up downstairs in the basement here, to keep you. I remember that day clearly, do you?”

You kept your eyes on him, his eyes glancing anywhere but your own gaze. A bead of sweat appeared on his brow.

“I’m not someone you miss, Spencer. I’m someone you should be afraid of. More than the reaction of anyone on your team.”

You started to take off his jacket, then unraveled the scarf from around his head.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Your hands shaking, out of fear, frustration, and the amalgamation of emotions that kept flaming inside you.

“You, my good Spencer, ran away from me twice. You came back to me the first time, sick and scared. The second time I found you, you were so intoxicated you couldn’t tell one person’s face from another. It’s common for unsubs to punish their victims for escaping. So,” you trailed off, now revealing a devilish grin, “it’s time for me to play the role.”

As you began to undo the buttons on his shirt, he quivered.

“W-what role?”

Pop, pop, went the buttons as you worked your way down his white collared shirt.

“The role you seemed to forget I play. I’m the unsub in this little story.”

You rolled the sleeves down his arms, revealing his bare chest. Now that it was naked and available, you could see the waves of breathing; inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You took your hands and pinned his wrists to the wall; making them eye-level up from you. You licked your lips and began to kiss his neck.

He moaned softly, but you pretended not to hear it. The idea of him getting any satisfaction right now made you angrier, and your kisses became harder and faster against his skin.

“When you ran away from me, you let other people mark your skin,” you said between kisses and breaths, “now it’s my turn to mark you as mine.”

Your kisses turned harsher as you began to use your teeth against his neck. They wouldn’t appear yet, but where you passionately put your lips would become dark, indigo bruises later against his skin. You took one hand off of his wrists, and used your fingernails to trail down his chest.

Slowly, you began to work your way across and down. You worked first towards the shoulder closest to you, dragging your nails across his chest as you left lovemarks tiled on him. As your fingers floated across his form, you could feel his breathing getting faster and his body getting warmer.

“Is it still punishment if I enjoy it?”

You didn’t stop your actions for a second. In fact, as he muttered those words and you could almost taste the panting from his mouth, it encouraged you to work faster, to work harder, and suddenly – that fire that you had had once; this raw, burning, sensation that tickled your bones the moment you saw him onscreen; that insatiable obsession that drew you deeper and deeper into the cesspool of Spencer Reid – had caught flame again.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, as you smashed your lips against his.

You tried to force the kiss, but every time you went back to kiss him again, his lips met yours with a passion akin to yours. Unsure if it felt amazing to have this sensation, that he may want you the way you wanted him, or if it was more irritating than anything – that as much as you were trying to prove a point; you were a dangerous person who shouldn’t be trusted and would only hurt him, he was so excited by you that your lesson had flown right over his head. The more you tried to kiss him harder, he’d meet your mouth with the same unexpected fury.

The one hand you had remaining on his wrist you brought into his scalp, and began to play with his hair with your fingers. He whimpered softly into your breath, and he moved his lips away to make that sound.

“Ah,” was the only noise you could muster as you took a tucket of his hair and pulled gently on it. He took a sharp breath and tilted his head back. You used one hand to pull different spots of his hair, the other hand you guided towards his stomach to rack your nails slowly across, and moved your lips slowly off of his mouth, down his chin, and down his neck.

You two slowly, in one unison, unspoken, walked your way over to the couch. He toppled onto it, you quickly taking your position on top of him – dominating him.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” you muttered as you worked your mouth down the base of his throat to his pectorals. “I’ve wanted to know what it’d be like to be with you, to touch your body.”

His eyes rolled back as he said, “Please, Y/N, then. Explore the all of me.”

You took your mouth off of his chest to meet his gaze. His expression wasn’t one of fear, worry, or apprehension. It was a calm, serene one, that even through a flushed complexion and wavering breathing, met your eyes with a sense of serenity.

You took one of his hands, and kissed his wrist. You kissed it gently, with the softest of intentions. He held it up higher for you, as you planted sweet kisses from his lower arm up towards his biceps. You worked your way up back to his shoulder, giving him the sweetest of touches where your marks had already started to become visible.

“Is this what your life is, just trauma after trauma?” you asked as you began to work on the other wrist. “Do you just wave from horrible thing to horrible thing?”

“You’re not a horrible thing. Not to me,” he whispered.

You kept going, not listening to his reply.

“Is that why you wake up and do your job, regardless of anything evil you had seem before? You’ve learned just to tuck that trauma away from another day?”

“It’s not trauma if I want you to do this.”

You took both your hands and wrapped it around the hand of the arm you had been loving.

“You know I’m not healthy. I’m not good for you in any way.”

“Well,” he answered, clapping his free hand against your own, “as a doctor, I must say your hypothesis needs a little work. You’re not healthy for me. I’m probably not very great for you either, giving into you like this. But,” he said, as he began to sit up, “you were wrong about one thing.

You’re the best thing I could ever want or need right now.”

And this time, the first time sober, he kissed you square on the lips.

He guided his hands out of yours, holding your head steady. He worked his own hand up into your hair, stroking it softly. You returned his kiss, and he used his other hand to cradle your cheek. The tension in your entire body melted, and you swooned into him.

“There we go,” he murmured, as he guided you down onto the couch, this time with him on top of you.

“You’re not scary,” he continued to move his lips from your lips onto your cheek. “Quite the opposite, really.”

This time, it was you who had grown soft and panted to his touch.

“You see, people,” he whispered, as he tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and worked his way down your neck, “sometimes feel a need to deflect their thoughts and feelings. You want me to be scared of you, Y/N, because you’re afraid. Maybe you feel guilty. Maybe you’re scared I’d leave again. Or maybe,” he stopped, “you’re afraid that for the first time in a long time, someone has ever cared for you back in this way.”

Oh god.

He began to work the sweater off of you, past your chest, past your shoulders, over your head, and onto the floor. He continued to speak.

“I know what it likes to be scared of being with another person. Feeling that they may see you for this gross, unlovable person you truly are. You’re so worried that they may leave you for who you are, you push them away first. That way you get hurt, but its your own fault, and you’d think it’d hurt a little less that way.”

For the first time since the shower, Spencer saw your chest, your lingerie moving up and down with the movement of your respiratory system.

“I never called people back, no matter how much I cared about them. If they saw where I came from, what my mind was like, what I saw everyday…” he stopped speaking for a moment or two, taking time to place his lips onto your collarbone. His warmness sent a tingle up your spine, and he continued.

“I know my team is waiting for me, looking for me. I know that I shouldn’t be here, and certainly not on top of you. But you know what, Y/N?”

He looked up at you, a soft smile on his face.

“I really couldn’t care right now.”

“I…” you muttered, not even sure what to say.

As if he knew, he shushed you and place a finger up to your lips. You kissed it gently.

“May I?” he asked, tucking his thumb underneath your bra.

You nodded, and he slowly lifted your bra off your chest and over your head.

The way he played with you was gentle, and it made you feel safe, in a weird way. Comforted. The way he cupped your breast and slid his fingers around it – it didn’t feel risqué or sensual. It felt natural, as if he was exploring your body and not trying to slip into it.

He embraced one breast with one hand, and place his mouth around the other. It sent shivers all the way up you, and you hadn’t ever realize how sensitive that area was until now.

“Spence…”

He slowly stopped his activity, looking back up at you with puppy-dog eyes.

“I’m supposed to be teaching you a lesson. I’m supposed to be punishing you.”

He lifted you up gently as to see eye-to-eye.

“Even if I was stricken down from the gods above, you would not be a punishment to me. If you were my hamartia, I’d chose to the pain of an arrow in my heel if that meant I got to have you in my life.”

How gentle this felt. It almost didn’t feel real, like a blurry dream far-off. But as Spencer placed one arm underneath your back and slipped the other underneath the back of your knee to carry you off the couch to upstairs, you realized: this was real. Regardless if you came from another world or this one was made of fiction, it was real enough for you. Spencer was real enough for you. Even if you got arrested, you decided, and locked up for a million years, the way he smiled and looked at you now would be worth everything you had done up to this point.

He carried you up into your bedroom and let you fall tenderly onto the bed. He kissed your forehead and as he began to leave the room, you asked him if he might spend the night with you in this bed. He chuckled at that and replied,

“I think I get to decide that as my last birthday present of the night. It’s a good way to end a birthday.”

He climbed in and curled up next to you, and you two melted into one another. You wrapped your bodies around one another, one embracing the other.

“Sorry for, you know, running out of a bar and yelling at you on your birthday.”

He laughed.

“I’ve had a lot worse birthdays than that.”

As he drifted off into a slumber, you whispered good night to him, and fell asleep yourself, no longer worried about the possibility of a team of trained hunters coming to find you.

Which was great, since they had caught the last two numbers of your plate, and with the make and model of your car, and all the video footage of you driving hectic earlier, that was all they needed.

And they were coming.

Taglist:

@thatsonezesty13