aubreyvibes

[aubreyvibes]

“Touchdown”

(Poe Dameron x Reader — reunion after a long mission)

The Resistance base never felt colder than when Poe was off-world.

You told yourself it was just in your head. The heating still worked, people still buzzed around hangars and control rooms, BB-8 still rolled around chirping. But without him, it was like your whole rhythm went silent.

He was gone longer this time. Weeks. A mission that spiraled, radio silence, and too many sleepless nights staring at the stars, praying to whoever was listening that he was still under the same sky.

And then — the call.

A landing.

His ship.

You didn’t run to the hangar — you flew. Boots barely touching the metal floors, heart slamming against your ribs like it was ready to launch into hyperspace without you.

He stepped off his X-Wing covered in dirt, cuts, and exhaustion, but that smile—that Poe Dameron smile—lit up his face the second he saw you.

You didn't wait.

You launched yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. His laughter rumbled in your ear as his arms tightened around you, one hand cradling the back of your head like he was afraid you'd vanish if he let go.

“I missed you,” you breathed against his shoulder, words breaking.

He kissed your temple, your cheek, anywhere his lips could reach without letting you go. “You have no idea.”

BB-8 chirped loudly in protest, spinning excitedly near your feet. Poe chuckled and leaned back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I’m home,” he said.

And you believed it — because his arms felt like home, no matter what star system you were under.

[aubreyvibes]

"The Last Laugh"

(Fred Weasley x Reader)

You'd always thought Fred had a way of turning even the darkest moments into something lighter. His jokes, his laughter, and those cheeky grins made the world seem a little less heavy, even in the midst of war. But now, standing in the middle of the Burrow with the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air, you weren't so sure anymore.

It was the aftermath of a battle, another one that had cost too much, and you could feel the weight of the day pressing down on you. Fred stood beside you, his usual grin nowhere to be found, replaced by something that looked almost tired.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice soft, though you knew he was never one to open up easily.

Fred glanced at you, his eyes still holding that playful twinkle despite the exhaustion written on his face. "I’ve seen worse," he said with a shrug, though you both knew he was lying. He'd seen too much. You both had.

But when he smiled, even just a little, you felt your heart ease. It was something he did without thinking, like a reflex, just to make the people around him feel better. But you saw through it. You knew Fred better than anyone, and you could see the cracks.

“I know,” you said quietly. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, you know?”

Fred paused, his eyes meeting yours for a moment, as if he was weighing something inside himself. Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. The simple gesture surprised you, and for a moment, you forgot about the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, pulling away but not entirely. “It’s just... a lot sometimes.”

You nodded, stepping closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You could feel the tension in his body, the unease that he carried with him wherever he went. He was trying to hold it all together, like always, but even the strongest need someone to lean on.

"Fred," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't have to carry all of this alone."

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Instead, he just held you tighter, his cheek resting against your hair. The two of you stood there for a while, the chaos of the world outside momentarily forgotten. It was just you and him, finding comfort in the stillness.

“I know,” he said after a while, his voice rough. “But it’s hard. I’ve always felt like I had to be the strong one. The one who keeps everyone laughing, keeps everyone going.”

“You don’t have to be that for me,” you replied softly. “You can just be Fred. That’s enough.”

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, this time more earnest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know that?”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Well, you don’t have to figure that out, do you?”

Fred chuckled, the sound low and genuine this time. “Guess not.”

For the first time that evening, his smile reached his eyes, and you knew — despite the chaos and the war, despite the things they had lost — you and Fred had something real, something that couldn’t be destroyed by anyone or anything.

You would make it through this, together.

[aubreyvibes]

"Behind Closed Doors"

(James Aubrey x Reader)

The building was silent, and you hated it. You preferred the noise of the world — the bustle of traffic, people talking, the usual chaos of your daily life. But tonight, the quiet was suffocating, especially with the investigation hanging over your head.

It had started as a regular case, but now? Now, it felt personal. You’d been following a trail of disappearances, and you were certain you were getting too close to something dark. The missing persons were connected, and they all had ties to someone you knew, someone you never thought would be involved in something like this.

You stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway, the dim light from above casting long shadows on the floor. Aubrey’s voice had been echoing in your mind for the past few hours, telling you to be careful.

“Don’t get in too deep,” he’d said. “This could be bigger than you think.”

But you weren’t going to back down now. Not when you were so close. You’d come this far, and there was no turning back.

You pushed the door open, stepping into the dark room. Your eyes immediately landed on the person you hadn’t been expecting to see here: James Aubrey, leaning against a table, his posture casual but his expression serious.

“Aubrey,” you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the quiet of the room.

He didn’t move for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. The usual confidence you’d seen in him was gone, replaced by something darker.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you walked past him, your eyes scanning the room. The file on the table caught your attention. You could feel the weight of it, the knowledge hidden inside. The truth that had been just out of reach.

“I don’t have time for warnings, Aubrey,” you finally replied. “I need answers. And I think you know where to find them.”

He pushed off from the table, moving closer. “This isn’t just about finding answers, is it? It’s about something more. What are you really looking for?”

Your heart pounded. He was right. You weren’t just trying to solve a case. You were trying to make sense of everything you’d been through, everything you thought you knew.

You paused, locking eyes with him. “The person behind this... It’s someone I’ve trusted. Someone I thought I knew.”

Aubrey’s expression shifted, his face hardening as he processed what you were saying. “Who?”

“I can’t say yet,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not wrong. I’ve seen the signs.”

Aubrey didn’t press further, but his silence spoke volumes. He didn’t need to hear the name. He knew what it meant to trust someone and find out they weren’t who you thought they were.

You reached for the file, hands trembling slightly as you opened it. The names inside — they were familiar, far too familiar. People you knew, people you thought were innocent. But the connections ran deeper than you expected.

Aubrey stepped up beside you, leaning in to glance at the file. “This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Why would they be involved?”

You couldn’t answer. You were too deep in your own thoughts, your mind racing through possibilities. But one thing was clear: someone you knew had orchestrated all of this.

You slammed the file shut, a knot forming in your stomach. “I can’t go back now. I’ve come too far.”

Aubrey placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but not overbearing. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

You looked at him, unsure of how to respond. You’d always kept things to yourself, shutting people out when you thought you could handle it. But with Aubrey standing there, his unwavering support made something shift inside you. Maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“What happens now?” you asked, voice quiet.

“Now?” Aubrey’s eyes darkened as he stepped back. “Now we find out the truth, no matter where it leads. But you’re not doing it alone, okay?”

You nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. You didn’t know where this path would take you, but with Aubrey by your side, you weren’t as afraid of what was to come.

[aubreyvibes]

"No Rest for the Hunter"

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

You hadn’t meant to end up on a hunt with Dean Winchester. It just… happened.

You were tracking a string of disappearances through some nowhere-town in Indiana when Dean’s black Impala rolled up beside you like fate had a flair for drama.

“You look like you know what you’re doing,” he said, leaning out the window. “Or like you’re about to get yourself killed.”

“Guess I’ll find out,” you replied, not breaking stride.

That earned a short chuckle. Minutes later, you were both in a dusty diner booth, poring over maps and local news like you’d done it together for years.

The hunt wasn’t easy. Whatever creature it was had been smart, careful. You followed broken clues through dark woods, abandoned houses, and late-night library visits. Dean fought with grit — sharp eyes, sharper instincts. But underneath the bravado, you saw it: the weariness. The way he rubbed his hands after loading a gun. The silence that crept in whenever the talk stopped.

One night, back at the motel, he tossed you a beer and said, “You ever get tired of it?”

You looked at him. “Tired of saving people?”

He paused. “Tired of losing them.”

The silence hung like fog. You thought about everyone you’d lost — names you didn’t say anymore. Faces you could barely remember.

“Yeah,” you finally said. “But that doesn’t mean we stop.”

Dean stared at the wall for a second before nodding slowly. “Guess not.”

The next morning, you cornered the thing — a skinwalker — and put it down with a single shot. Clean, fast. Dean didn’t say much after. Just gave you a look — something between respect and understanding.

When it was time to part ways, he leaned against the Impala and handed you a small charm.

“For protection,” he said simply.

You stared at it. “You don’t even believe in this stuff.”

Dean smirked. “Yeah, well. I believe in you a little more than I do in charms.”

Then he got in the car, started the engine, and was gone.

[aubreyvibes]

"The Trickster’s Gamble"

(Loki x Reader)

The castle was quiet, too quiet. The low hum of Asgard's eternal machinery reverberated through the halls, but something was amiss. You could feel it in the air, thick with a sense of foreboding. And there, in the distance, was Loki — standing near the throne room, staring out into the vastness of Asgard.

You weren’t sure if it was a trick or if he was genuinely contemplating something serious, but there was no doubt in your mind: Loki was always scheming. Even now, in the middle of a supposed peace time, you knew his mind was working a mile a minute.

You approached cautiously, not wanting to alert him to your presence too soon. But he seemed to sense you, turning just as you stepped into the hallway. His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischief, and his lips curled upward into a half-smirk.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the ever-curious [Y/N],” he said, his voice smooth like velvet.

“What’s going on, Loki?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. “Something feels off.”

Loki studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a move that was as fast as it was calculated, he appeared before you, his steps so light they seemed almost unreal. “You’re always so perceptive,” he said, his words wrapped in something darker now. “You’re right. There’s something afoot. And I plan to fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely trusting his words. “Fix it? Since when do you fix things?”

He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Since it suits my needs. You see, not everything in Asgard is what it seems. Someone has been playing a dangerous game, and they’ve underestimated my ability to play it better.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before you finally spoke. “You’re up to something. And I’m not sure I want to be a part of it.”

Loki’s expression softened, though only for a split second. It was fleeting, but it was there — the faintest glimpse of the brother you had come to understand beneath the layers of deceit. “Trust me, [Y/N]. This isn’t about you. This is about keeping Asgard safe. And sometimes, that means doing things that others would never dare.”

Before you could respond, a sharp noise broke the tension between you. Footsteps echoed in the distance, drawing both your attention. Loki’s face shifted instantly, his features sharp and calculating again. “They’ve found us.”

Without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a side corridor, moving with uncanny speed. You didn’t ask questions. Not when Loki was involved. His plans had always been unpredictable, but he had a certain brilliance in the way he handled danger.

The enemy was closing in fast. You could hear the clash of armor and weapons ahead. Loki’s magic sparked to life as he opened a portal with a swift motion, and you were through it before you could even process what was happening.

You landed hard on the other side, tumbling into a stone floor that scraped at your skin. Quickly recovering, you stood and faced Loki, who was already surveying the new surroundings.

“We’re in the Shadow Realm,” you noted, your voice low.

Loki glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “And we’re not alone.”

Suddenly, a group of shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, their eyes glowing with malice. It wasn’t just the enemy you had to worry about — it was the treacherous magic that flowed through this place, making every step uncertain.

Loki drew his dagger, the blade shimmering with dark energy. “Stay close. And keep up.”

The battle erupted in an instant. You fought alongside Loki, your movements sharp and precise as you took on the shadowy assailants. Loki was everywhere at once, his magic and wit slicing through enemies with brutal efficiency. It was like watching a master at work — every move calculated, every strike devastating.

But despite his power, you could see the strain in his eyes, the effort it took to keep control in such a place. This was his domain — the realm of shadows where even he had to tread carefully.

As the last of the shadows fell, you breathed a sigh of relief, your body bruised but not broken. Loki stood near the edge of the battlefield, his gaze intense, as though he were weighing something in his mind.

“You’re good in a fight,” he said, his voice lacking the usual sarcasm. “For someone who isn’t usually involved in these sorts of things.”

You shot him a wry smile. “I’m not just someone who stays out of trouble, Loki. I know how to handle myself.”

He chuckled, but it was a quieter sound this time. “I know. And that’s why I brought you here.”

Before you could respond, the portal back to Asgard opened, and Loki gestured for you to follow him. “Time to go,” he said. “The game is far from over.”

As you stepped through the portal, back into the familiar halls of Asgard, you realized one thing: there was no escaping Loki’s plans, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself. You were a part of it now, whether you liked it or not. And somehow, in this twisted web of deception and danger, you weren’t sure if you’d ever truly want out.

[aubreyvibes]

"The Mind of a Detective"

(Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

The room was filled with an eerie stillness, only interrupted by the occasional sound of Sherlock pacing across the floor. His steps were deliberate, fast, yet without the usual urgency he displayed during a case. He was lost in thought again — his mind working at a pace that most couldn't even begin to comprehend. It wasn’t unusual, but tonight, the atmosphere felt heavier. Something was off.

You sat across from him, quietly observing. His dark curls fell messily into his eyes, and his hands, always restless, rubbed against his chin in thought. You were used to his eccentricities, his unpredictability. But this case had started to feel different. The pieces were there, scattered in plain sight, but they didn’t seem to fit together the way they should.

Sherlock's eyes flicked toward you, but you saw no sign of recognition. It was as if you were just another piece of the puzzle in his mind — another variable to be considered.

"You’re quiet tonight," you said, breaking the silence. "Don’t tell me you're stuck."

His gaze sharpened, and his lips curled slightly. “Stuck? Please. I never get stuck." He leaned closer, his piercing eyes never leaving yours. “I’m merely waiting for the final piece to fall into place. It’s just... eluding me.”

You leaned back, feeling a quiet frustration building. "You’ve been saying that for hours. Do you ever stop thinking?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned back to the crime board pinned up against the wall, filled with sketches and photos. It was a complicated case. A murder in the heart of London, no clear suspects, and far too many pieces that didn’t make sense.

The killer had been careful. Too careful. All the clues pointed in different directions, each one a dead end. It was frustrating, and it was starting to feel like the criminal was deliberately keeping you both in the dark.

“Sherlock,” you spoke again, this time more forcefully. “This doesn’t feel right. We’ve been chasing shadows. I don’t like this.”

For the first time in hours, Sherlock’s eyes flickered with something other than pure concentration. A hint of curiosity, maybe even annoyance. “What do you mean, ‘don’t like it’?”

“I mean,” you began slowly, choosing your words carefully, “we’re being led in circles. There’s a pattern here, but it’s too perfect. Too orchestrated. Like someone is keeping us on a leash and pulling us wherever they want.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could tell he was processing your words, weighing them against his own theories. The silence between you both stretched, thickening as the tension in the room grew.

Finally, he turned to face you fully, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “And do you think I’m incapable of solving this? Do you think I’m missing something?” His voice wasn’t harsh, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper there — frustration, maybe. Or something deeper.

You met his gaze, not flinching. “No. I think you’re too close to it. I think you’re so consumed by the game, you’re overlooking the obvious.”

Sherlock studied you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was about to make some scathing remark. Instead, he sighed and walked over to the board, running his fingers over the photos, his expression unreadable. “You’re wrong,” he muttered. “The answer is in the details. It always is.”

You didn’t argue. Not right away. You’d seen Sherlock solve crimes before — sometimes in ways that made your head spin. His mind was like a machine, turning pieces of evidence over and over until everything clicked into place. But tonight? Tonight, there was a coldness to him, a frustration that he couldn’t shake off. He wasn’t just solving the case; he was obsessed with it. The adrenaline was starting to cloud his judgment.

“I’m going to bed,” you said, standing up. “You should too. You’re not going to figure it out while you’re pacing like this.”

Sherlock shot you a quick glance, clearly not thrilled by the idea of stopping. “Sleep is for the weak, Y/N. If you’d like to waste your time with it, go ahead.”

“Fine. I’ll be the weak one, then.” You turned to leave, but something in his posture stopped you. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched at his sides, but there was something more there — a flicker of frustration.

You hesitated. “Sherlock...”

“Don’t worry about me,” he interrupted, but the edge to his voice was softer now. Almost resigned. “I don’t need rest. I need a breakthrough.”

You didn’t believe him. Not really. You had seen Sherlock in his worst moments, when exhaustion and obsession took over. But you didn’t press him. Instead, you left him to his thoughts, slipping out of the room with a quiet sigh.

It wasn’t until hours later that you heard it — a loud crash from the next room. You rushed to the door, throwing it open to find Sherlock standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by torn papers and a broken mug. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes looked like they were on the verge of snapping.

“What happened?” you asked, approaching him carefully.

For a moment, Sherlock didn’t respond. He simply stared at the wreckage in front of him. Then, with a sharp breath, he stepped forward and picked up a piece of paper, his hands trembling just slightly.

“It’s all there,” he said, his voice hoarse, as though he had just pulled himself from a fog. “The answer was there all along.”

You watched as he pieced the clues together in his mind, his eyes lighting up with that familiar intensity. There was no more frustration now, just pure focus. Sherlock’s mind had clicked back into place, and the puzzle was finally solved.

It wasn’t magic. It was Sherlock. His mind worked at a level that few could follow. But tonight, for a moment, it had been you who had brought him back from the edge.

Sherlock glanced at you, his eyes sharp but softer than before. “You were right,” he said, almost grudgingly. “I was too close. I should have listened.”

You gave him a small smile, relieved to see him back to his usual self. “You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep, Sherlock. You’ve earned it.”

He didn’t say anything else, but you knew he would — in his own way, when the case was wrapped up and the danger had passed. Until then, though, there was only silence.

And for once, you both didn’t mind it.

[aubreyvibes]

"Touch Without Words"

(Kylo Ren x Reader)

You saw him first in the marketplace — black robes like liquid shadow, helmet glinting under the twin suns. Everyone else stepped back. You didn’t. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was fate.

He stopped in front of your small booth, eyes hidden behind the mask, and said nothing. You could feel the cold hum of the Force in the air, the weight of him pressing on the world around you. But it wasn’t threatening. Not exactly.

“You’re not afraid,” he said at last, voice modulated but unmistakably intrigued.

You shrugged. “Should I be?”

A pause. “Most are.”

“Most don’t see the way you hesitate.”

He said nothing, but you felt it — that shift in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks. Then, just as suddenly, he was gone.

He came back a week later. No words. No threats. Just standing there, watching you sort through old star maps and relics no one else wanted. He returned again after that. And again. Always silent, always watching. Until one evening, when the suns had dipped low and you were alone, he spoke.

“I feel… calm. When I’m here.”

You glanced up at him. “Even in your mind?”

He stiffened. “You felt that?”

“I’m not Force-sensitive. But I feel you.” You paused, then added, “You brush against me like a whisper when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Silence. Heavy, tense, uncertain. Then: “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you don’t stop.”

He took off his helmet for the first time that day. Underneath it all, he looked... young. Haunted. Human.

His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter. “I don’t know who I am when I’m with you.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding. “Maybe that’s the real you.”

He stared at you like you were a puzzle no one had ever solved — and maybe he wanted you to be the one who could. Slowly, carefully, he reached out with one gloved hand and touched your face. Cold leather met warm skin.

“You don’t flinch,” he whispered.

“No,” you breathed. “I never did.”

That night, he didn’t speak again. He just sat beside you under the stars, your shoulders barely touching, the silence between you full of everything he couldn’t say.

Because even Kylo Ren — even Ben Solo — knew some things were too sacred for words.

[aubreyvibes]

Just a little something to remind Spencer Reid (and all of us) that we’re always enough, even when we’re feeling lost. 🌿

Title:the quiet moments

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer always said he wasn’t clumsy — just unlucky.

You weren’t so sure.

Because somehow, after a day spent digging through case files and paperwork, he still managed to show up at your door with a papercut so nasty it made your stomach twist.

"It’s fine," he said immediately when you gasped, holding his hand awkwardly. "It’s just... a minor epidermal laceration."

You arched an eyebrow, tugging him gently toward the kitchen.

"Minor or not, you’re letting me clean it."

He didn’t argue.

Spencer never really argued when it came to you.

He sat quietly on a stool while you rummaged through your cabinets for the first-aid kit, his injured hand cradled awkwardly in his lap like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The cut wasn’t deep — just messy, the skin torn from where the paper had sliced him.

Still, it was bleeding enough to make you frown.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, dabbing antiseptic over the cut.

Spencer winced, but didn’t pull away.

"I was reading," he said, as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did.

Spencer Reid didn’t just read books — he devoured them. Got lost in them. Forgot the world around him.

"I’m glad you like books," you teased gently, "but maybe next time don’t get into a life-or-death situation with one."

He laughed, a quiet, breathy sound that made your heart ache a little.

His eyes, normally so sharp and quick, were tired today.

You wondered how many hours of sleep he’d had this week.

Probably not enough. Spencer rarely took time for himself.

You finished cleaning the cut and wrapped it carefully with a bandage, trying not to let him see how worried you were.

He had so many things to carry on his shoulders — cases, the weight of his own thoughts, and yet, sometimes, he never seemed to care about taking care of himself.

When you were done, you stepped back, looking at him for a moment.

His usual, almost playful grin was gone, replaced with something quieter, like he was a little lost in his own mind.

"Spencer," you said, sitting next to him on the stool. You didn’t touch him at first, just let the space between you fill with the soft hum of your presence. "You don’t have to be perfect, you know."

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a split second, there was something vulnerable in them, like he didn’t quite believe you.

"I try," he whispered. "But sometimes I feel like no matter how much I try, I can’t... be enough. For them, for you."

You reached out then, gently cupping his face in your hands, guiding his gaze back to yours.

"You are enough, Spencer," you said, your voice steady i and certain. "More than enough."

He swallowed hard, as though the words weighed more than he expected. Slowly, his hand reached up, covering yours, and for a moment, you thought you might feel the weight of everything he’d been carrying lift just a little.

Spencer didn’t say anything for a long time, but when he did, his voice was quieter, softer, more open than you’d ever heard it before.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For seeing me."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of his head gently, his curls tickling your lips.

"You don’t need to thank me for that," you whispered, brushing your thumb across his hand. "I see you, Spencer. Always."

[aubreyvibes]

[aubreyvibes]

Title: In His Own Words

Pairing:james aubrey x reader

James always kept little secrets from you — nothing bad, nothing worth arguing over.

Just small things, like how many donuts he actually ate on the way home, or how he definitely watched that cheesy sci-fi movie you loved before pretending to "hate-watch" it with you.

You figured he was just like that. Full of surprises.

But you weren’t expecting this one.

It started when you lost your phone somewhere between the couch cushions. You reached in, digging through pens, spare change, a pack of gum — and found a notebook.

Old, leather-bound, the corners frayed like it had been handled a thousand times.

Curious, you flipped it open.

And froze.

The handwriting was unmistakably James — a little messy, a little rushed, but warm somehow, like he was trying to capture things before they slipped away.

It wasn’t case notes or grocery lists.

It was a story.

Your story.

There were no names, but the descriptions were too vivid to be anyone else.

The way you insisted on doing the dishes even when he offered.

The way you scrunched your nose when you laughed too hard.

The night you fell asleep on his shoulder during a stakeout.

The morning he realized he was in love with you.

You turned page after page, heart hammering harder with each word, until you heard the front door open.

"Hey, babe," James called casually, kicking his shoes off. "I got Thai. Hope you’re in the mood for—"

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the notebook in your hands.

The color drained from his face.

"You… found that," he said slowly, setting the takeout on the table like it might break.

You could tell he wanted to run. Or hide. Or rewind time and shove the notebook deeper into the couch.

"I did," you said softly, still cradling the notebook like it was something precious.

Because it was.

James scrubbed a hand down his face, looking everywhere but at you.

"I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t think you’d—" He blew out a breath. "It’s stupid. Just something I do when I can’t sleep."

"It’s not stupid," you said.

Your voice cracked a little, and you hated how emotional you sounded, but you couldn’t help it.

"James, this is beautiful."

Finally, finally, he looked at you.

The guarded look in his eyes slowly melted into something raw and honest.

"I just wanted to remember everything," he said quietly. "In case someday I didn’t know how to say it out loud."

You crossed the room without thinking, the notebook still in your hand.

When you reached him, you stood on your toes and pressed your forehead against his.

"You say it just fine," you whispered.

James pulled you into his arms like he never wanted to let go.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to.

Not when you already knew every word in his heart.

[aubreyvibes]

"Even the Devil Waits for You"

(Lucifer x Reader)

Lucifer’s gaze never left yours as he shifted closer, his presence filling the room like the weight of an impending storm. His smirk was still there, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes — not tonight.

“You’re brave,” he said, voice smooth as velvet, but there was something more behind it. Something raw. “Most people would run by now.”

You didn’t flinch. “I’m not most people.”

He chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound that made your heart beat a little faster. “True.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the only sound the gentle hum of the world outside.

“I’ve been alive longer than you can fathom,” he continued, eyes softening just the slightest bit. “And I’ve seen everything — empires rise and fall, countless souls beg for redemption, but…” His voice trailed off as he reached out, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the coldness of his fingers sending a shiver down your spine. “But nothing compares to the way you look at me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Why?”

He smiled, though it was a little sad. “Because, little human, I can’t control it. You’re the one thing I can’t possess, and yet…” He stepped closer, the air thickening with an unspoken tension. “I still want you.”

You could feel the pull of him, the gravity of everything he was — everything he’d been. It was dangerous, intoxicating, but it didn’t scare you.

“You’re a devil,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Lucifer paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “And you’re my temptation.”

There was no more distance between you, no more hesitation. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both fire and ice, as if he could burn you alive and freeze you in place at the same time. And maybe, just maybe, you’d let him.

[aubreyvibes]

"Strangers Know My Name, But You Say It Like a Secret"

(Crowley x Reader)

You met Crowley on a rainy Tuesday — naturally.

He walked into your bookshop like he owned the street outside it, dark coat dripping at the edges, sunglasses on even with the storm clouds smothering the sky.

“Got anything banned?” he asked, voice smooth, hands tucked into his pockets. “Preferably the scandalous kind.”

You smirked. “Depends. You looking for scandal or meaning?”

He grinned. “Bit of both, probably.”

From then on, he came back. Never at the same time. Never buying much. But he’d linger — asking strange questions, flipping through poetry, watching you from behind his shades like he was trying to figure you out.

“Do people still write love letters?” he asked once.

“Only the dramatic ones,” you replied.

“I like dramatic.”

You caught the way his smile faltered sometimes, like it wasn’t supposed to be real. He'd always leave right before it got too quiet — like he was scared of what he might say if the silence stayed too long.

Then one night, you found him outside, standing in the rain again. No umbrella. Just him, and that stormy kind of stillness.

“You okay?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you at first. Just said, “It’s loud. Everywhere. All the time. Except here.”

You stepped closer, barely breathing. “Why here?”

Crowley turned, finally meeting your eyes — no sunglasses this time. Just that ancient kind of tired, and something else. Something softer.

“Because you see me like I’m not a demon. Like I’m not broken.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t say anything. Just reached out, took his hand, and held it like it didn’t burn.

And for once, he didn’t pull away.

[aubreyvibes]

Home Is Where They Are

Pairing:sam Winchester and dean Winchester x sister reader

You were used to the constant moving. One motel room after another, always packing light, never staying long enough to grow roots. Being the youngest Winchester meant growing up fast—but it also meant you were never alone.Sam and Dean had always been there. Dean with his tough-love, sarcasm, and secretly soft heart. Sam with his quiet intelligence, calming presence, and way-too-tall hugs. You were sandwiched between two extremes—and somehow, it felt perfect.

Tonight, you were curled up in the backseat of the Impala, hoodie pulled over your head, legs tucked underneath you. You weren’t sure where you were headed this time—just another hunt, another town. But the quiet rumble of the engine and the sound of Dean humming along to classic rock made it feel like home.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice floated back from the passenger seat. “You okay back there?”

You pulled your hood down and peeked up, eyes still half-lidded. “Just tired.”

Dean glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “We’ll get some sleep soon, kid. There’s a halfway-decent motel outside the next town.”

“Hopefully one that doesn’t smell like moldy Cheetos this time,” you muttered.

That got a chuckle out of both of them.

You didn’t say much the rest of the ride. But when the Impala finally rolled into the parking lot of the motel, Dean handed you the key to the room without question. “You get first dibs on the shower. Sam’s gonna take forever, anyway.”

“I do not—”

“You absolutely do,” Dean said with a smirk, unlocking the trunk.

Later, after the hunt talk died down and you were all settled in—Sam reading through lore on the bed, Dean cleaning a weapon at the table—you sat in the middle, cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in an old blanket. It hit you all at once, like it did sometimes. How weird and messy your life was, but how safe you felt in moments like these.

Dean looked up, eyebrows raised. “You good, squirt?”

You smiled sleepily. “Yeah. I’m home.”

Sam gave you a soft look, the kind only a big brother could pull off. “Yeah, you are.”

[aubreyvibes]

Title: Thirteen Years Later

John boyd x reader

Warnings:none

You sat on the couch, a warm mug of tea cradled in your hands. The soft flicker of the TV was just background noise as your mind wandered back over the years. Thirteen years. It felt like a lifetime in the best way possible. You and John had been through so much together—cases, late nights, moments of joy, moments of struggle—but through it all, you'd always had each other.

The sound of the front door opening pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m home!” John’s voice echoed through the house, as lighthearted and familiar as ever.

“Welcome back,” you called from the couch, the smile tugging at your lips before you even saw him.

He appeared in the doorway, his jacket hanging off his arm, a tired but content expression on his face. The exhaustion of the day was written on his features, but when his eyes met yours, the weight seemed to lift.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said, walking over to you with a relaxed grin. He bent down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thirteen years, huh?” He took a seat beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

You leaned into him, the warmth of his touch a comfort you had grown so accustomed to. “Thirteen years. Time really does fly,” you murmured.

John chuckled softly, brushing his hand through his hair. “We’ve been through a lot in that time, haven’t we?”

You nodded, your gaze softening as you thought back to the beginnings of your relationship. From the late-night talks, to the long days at the lab, to the quiet moments like this one. It wasn’t always easy, but you never doubted that you were meant to be together. “We have. But somehow, we always seem to make it through.”

John sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Thirteen years together, and we’ve survived some pretty crazy stuff. But somehow, we’re still here, still going strong.”

You smiled, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of his hand. “Somehow, we’ve always had each other. And that’s all that matters.”

John looked at you, his expression serious now, though the warmth never left his eyes. “I wouldn’t want anyone else, [Y/N]. Not for all the cases in the world, not for all the time I’ve spent chasing down answers. You’re the best part of my life. The one constant. Thirteen years… it’s nothing compared to what I want with you.”

Your heart swelled, a wave of affection crashing over you. Thirteen years of marriage, of shared life, of growing together. You had been through so much, but in that moment, everything felt just right.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Here’s to thirteen more years,” you whispered against his mouth.

John smiled, his arms pulling you closer. “Here’s to forever.”

And as the night stretched on, you knew—no matter what came your way, you had each other. And that was enough.

[aubreyvibes]

Title: Unspoken

Marty deeks x reader

Warnings:none

You sat in the back of the NCIS bullpen, watching as Deeks paced back and forth, his usual playful demeanor nowhere to be seen. It had been a long day, filled with frustrating dead-ends, and you could tell Deeks was running on fumes. He threw a glance your way, his tired eyes locking onto yours.

“You look like you’re about to tackle that case all by yourself,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

Deeks gave a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time I tried. But if I can get through the next few hours without falling asleep, I think I’ll call it a win.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “You’ve done worse. Remember the time you almost fell asleep during a briefing? I thought you were going to face-plant into your coffee cup.”

“Hey, I was very close to solving the case. That coffee cup had all the answers, you just didn’t know it.” He shot you a playful grin, but the humor in his voice didn’t quite match the exhaustion on his face.

You leaned forward, a little concerned now. “Deeks, are you okay? You’ve been looking like you haven’t slept in days.”

He paused, leaning against the desk, his eyes briefly flicking to yours. “I’m fine. Just… been a lot on my plate recently, you know?” He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze.

You could tell he was hiding something, but you didn’t push. You’d worked with him long enough to know that Deeks had a way of keeping things to himself, especially when it came to his own struggles. Still, it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Alright, tough guy,” you said, standing up and walking over to him. “But you know, you don’t have to do this alone. If you ever need someone to talk to… or maybe just a distraction from all of this?” You let your words trail off, offering him an out.

Deeks looked at you for a moment, his smile returning, more genuine this time. “I know. Thanks, [Y/N]. I appreciate it. Just… sometimes it’s easier to let it all stay inside, you know?”

You nodded, understanding all too well. But you also knew that sometimes, the weight of things was too much to carry alone. “Well, I’m here when you’re ready. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just a little at your words. “I’m lucky to have you on my team,” he said, his voice softer now.

You smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Deeks. Just remember, you don’t always have to wear the mask. It’s okay to let people in.”

For a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. It wasn’t anything huge, but there was a quiet understanding. Deeks met your eyes again, a mix of gratitude and something deeper flickering there.

“Thanks, [Y/N],” he said again, this time with more sincerity. “Really.”

You didn’t say anything more, but the unspoken bond between you two was enough for now. Whatever it was he was dealing with, he knew he wasn’t facing it alone.

[aubreyvibes]

"explosive chemistry"

Jack hodgins x reader

Warnings - none

You had been having one of those days where everything felt off. It wasn’t anything big, but a series of small things added up. By the time you were in the lab, you were feeling worn out.

Hodgins noticed. Of course, he did. He was always attuned to the smallest shifts in the atmosphere, especially when it came to you.

"Hey," he said softly, pulling you out of your thoughts as he handed you a coffee. "You okay?"

You took the cup, grateful for the gesture. "Just a rough day."

He nodded, his usual enthusiasm replaced with a rare seriousness. "Want to talk about it?"

You shrugged, unsure of where to start. "It’s nothing. Just... stuff piling up."

Hodgins tilted his head, looking at you with a softness that wasn’t often there when he was focused on his bugs or the latest scientific discovery. He reached out, lightly touching your arm, his fingers warm against your skin. "I get it. Sometimes everything feels like it’s too much. But, you know, you're not in this alone."

You met his gaze, his brown eyes steady and understanding. "Thanks, Hodgins."

He smiled, a little sheepish but genuine. "I’ve got your back, always. And if you ever need a distraction, I’ve got plenty of experiments that could use your brilliant mind."

You smiled for the first time that day, feeling a bit lighter. "I might take you up on that."

Hodgins grinned, his usual mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Best decision you'll ever make."

And just like that, the weight of the day felt a little more bearable, knowing he was there.

[aubreyvibes]

"late-night cravings"(james Aubrey)

Pairing(james aubrey x female reader)

Warning:none

---

You weren’t sure how you ended up here — sitting in James Aubrey’s car at nearly midnight, parked outside a 24-hour diner. The case had wrapped hours ago, but instead of going home, Aubrey had nudged you with his elbow and said, “Wanna grab a bite?”

You didn’t have the heart to say no. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

“So,” Aubrey said, tapping the steering wheel, “best late-night snack: pancakes or fries?”

You squinted at him. “Why not both?”

His eyes widened. “You’re a genius.”

The two of you slid into a red vinyl booth, the overhead lights humming softly. Aubrey immediately ordered pancakes, fries, and a milkshake to split. The waitress barely blinked.

As you waited, you rested your chin in your hand, watching him ramble about the latest horror movie he’d seen. His eyes lit up when he talked, like he got excited about the smallest things. It was… endearing.

“So,” he said, taking a sip of water, “you gonna tell me what’s on your mind?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Aubrey tilted his head. “You’ve been quiet since we left the lab. Usually, you’re the one making sarcastic comments.”

You shrugged, poking at the napkin dispenser. “Just… thinking.”

He leaned forward, his voice softer. “About what?”

You hesitated. “The case, I guess. It just… it sucks sometimes.”

Aubrey nodded slowly. “Yeah. It does.” He paused, searching your face. “But you know what doesn’t suck?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He grinned. “Pancakes.”

As if on cue, the waitress slid the plates onto your table. Aubrey handed you a fork, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, he always knew how to pull you out of your head.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the soft clatter of silverware filling the air. Every now and then, your knees would brush under the table, and neither of you moved away.

When the plates were empty and the clock read way too late, Aubrey walked you to your car. You leaned against the door, watching him fidget with his keys.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes warm. “Anytime.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then, before you could overthink it, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Aubrey blinked, face going red. “Uh… wow. Okay.” He chuckled nervously. “Next time, I’m buying dessert.”

You smiled, sliding into your car. “It’s a date.”

As you drove off, you caught a glimpse of him in your rearview mirror — standing there, still stunned, and grinning like an idiot.

Maybe late-night cravings weren’t so bad after all.

---