#(In a sense she's looking for a mind at work)

[cerisereids]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]

pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader

w.c.- 8.5k (wtf)

summary- it's been months since you've seen spencer reid. you miss him more than anything, but your friend convinces you it's better if you move on. what happens when he bumps into your new fling at the library?

warnings- sfw but making out at the end, reader is referred to as a woman, emily meddles in spencer's love life lol, angst to fluff, happy ending, not rly proofread im sorry yall i tried my hardest, reader is a little bit messy but she doesn't mean it, last part of this series! part 1 found here

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“You ready, Pretty Boy?” Derek claps a hand on Spencer’s back as he assembles his desk for the weekend. 

Spencer shudders at the nickname, like there’s a bug crawling up his spine. He can tell just from Derek’s debonair tone what tonight is going to look like, and he wants no part of it.

“For what? To watch you get phone numbers from every girl you meet?” Spencer teases, doing his best to deflect as he reluctantly stands to leave his desk with Derek.

“Maybe,” Derek shoots him a smile and wraps an arm around his shoulders, “but it’s also time for a special someone to finally follow in my footsteps,” he pinches Spencer’s cheek and he playfully pushes him off.

“Ooh! Are you guys getting drinks?” Spencer turns to see Emily and Penelope coming up from behind him.

“Yeah,” Derek responds, “trying to see if Mr. Grumpy over here can lighten up a little bit,” he shakes Spencer’s shoulders, and he unsuccessfully fights an eyeroll. 

“Haven’t been grumpy,” Spencer mumbles, completely proving their point. 

“Yeah guys, he hasn’t been grumpy at all!” Emily starts, and Spencer can tell from the theatrics in her tone that the other shoe has not yet dropped, “we all spend our free time moping at our desk after work, looking through old case files that we’ve already solved.” And there it is. 

“You know, you guys are this close to becoming a trio for the night,” Spencer holds his index finger and thumb mere millimeters apart, and his comment earns a chuckle from the group.

“Hey now,” Emily gives his shoulder a playful knock, “we tease you because we love you!”

“Well, regardless of Reid’s attitude, we are so in!” Penelope chirps, nudging herself in between Spencer and Derek so she can link arms with both men, and it does make Spencer smile.

Spencer uses their newfound company as an excuse to keep to himself, at least on the way there. He knows Derek won’t let it go when they get to the bar, but for now, he allows his mind to drift. Emily was right, to his everlasting dismay. It’s true that he’s been grumpier in the past few months than normal. He sequesters himself away in conference rooms of local police departments, and he spends hours upon hours going over case files and documents until his eyes go cross. He plays solitaire on the jet home, tucked into a corner, not to be disturbed. He mopes on nights like these, nights where Derek tries to inspire him out of his comfort zone. 

It’s all because of one stupid day on the job. One singular day in Massachusetts has turned his life more upside down than seven years in Quantico. It’s torturous, the way you flood his mind, his senses at any waking moment. The way you looked at him, your eyes piercing straight through him, is forever seared into his brain. He doesn’t need an eidetic memory for that. It’s been years since he’s truly felt someone understand him for who he is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for letting you go. 

Spencer is rudely thrust back into reality by the ding of the bell above him and the incessant chatter of a crowded bar on a Friday night. They’ve made it, and now Spencer has to put on an Academy Award worthy performance so he doesn’t get lectured by his coworkers. Damn profilers. 

“Now, you kids have fun,” Derek says, the glint in his eyes suggesting he’s already spotted a lady across the bar, “I will be over there, working my magic,” he swiftly points to the direction of the bar, the girl perched on a stool with a friend, “unless you wanna come with, Pretty Boy,” he adds with a knowing smiley. 

He claps Spencer on the back again as he shakes his head no, “here, have this to loosen yourself up a bit, then come find me in 20 minutes,” he hands him a beer and moves toward his target. 

Spencer fiddles with the glass bottle, feeling the eyes of Emily and Penelope burning holes right through him. He raises his brows, eyes glancing up for the briefest moment, and he knows it was a mistake the second he catches their accusatory glares. There will be no getting out of this one, he’s afraid, especially with Morgan gone. 

“So, do you wanna tell me what happened with Pretty Library Girl? Or do you want to continue to avoid the entire team every chance you get?” Spencer’s head snaps to Emily, his stomach dropping at the mere mention of her, eyes wide and wild.

“Pretty Library Girl?!” Penelope squeals, and Spencers takes a big swig of beer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputters, a tiny drop of beer spilling over his lip. 

“Who is she and why haven’t you told me anything about her?” Penelope sounds offended, like he’s done her wrong by not engaging with her in every detail of his life. It is Penelope afterall, though, so maybe he has. 

“It’s nothing, it’s not important! Emily’s just being mean,” he feels himself going red as he takes another sip. The cold of the glass bottle against his lips makes him long for three months prior, when he had you in his arms and his mouth pressed against your temple. The alcohol infiltrating his brain encourages further thought of how sweet your lips would taste, how warm and soft they’d be compared to the icy feeling of the glass rim. 

“I am not being mean, you baby!” Emily teases, and he shoves an onion ring in his mouth, “remember that one case we worked on about a few months ago? With that one east coast diplomat who was kidnapped?” Penelope nods so Emily continues, and Spencer feels the warmth in his cheeks spread to his ears.

“Well, Spencer here really hit it off with the librarian who called in that he was missing. We were sent to spend the day at the library to keep her safe, he was nearly starstruck at the mere sight of her,” Penelope’s jaw hit the floor at this information, as did Spencer’s, but Emily kept going before either of them could react. 

“To be honest, though,” Emily added, “I think she was starstruck at the sight of you, too, if her reaction to your handshake was anything to go off of.” 

Penelope immediately burst into happy squeals and claps at this revelation, and Spencer put his face in his hands. 

“So that’s why you’ve been such a sourpuss? A girl? Oh Spencer, this is so exciting!” Penelope squeals as she shakes his bicep back and forth, her nails lightly digging in the skin there.

“No, it’s not!” he finally exclaims, “I didn’t get her number. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in three months and I feel like I’m going crazy!”

A weight was lifted off his chest at the confession, but it only made more room for the longing piercing through his heart. He took another sip of beer.

“Ahhh…” Penelope drawls, “so that’s why we’re grumpy. You know, you could just tell me her name and I’ll find her for you in two seconds flat,” she punctuates her remark with the snap of a finger. 

“No…no, I don’t want you to do that. I screwed up by not going for it. If I’m going to contact her, I should at least be honest about it,” he rests his forehead in his large palm, another sip. 

“Well, it’s never too late, you know,” Emily remarks, “I thought she was good for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mutters, chin in his palm.

Spencer’s on his fifth beer when Derek comes back to the table, this time with a woman on each arm.

“Spencer…” he drags out, introducing him to the one on the left, closest to him, “meet Callie. I was chatting with her and her friend over at the bar and I think you’d really hit it off.”

His tone is light, but his eyes are saying if you fumble one more time, I’m gonna kill you. Looks like he’s a dead man, because he’s quick to tell the girl he’s not interested. He’s never disrespectful, always straightforward. He doesn’t have time for games, unless, apparently, it’s his own heart he’s interested in playing with.

“Excuse us just one second, ladies,” Derek escorts Spencer out the doors of the bar, out to where it’s more quiet. 

“What the hell is goin’ on, man?” Derek nearly interrogates, “that’s the fifth girl in the past month I’ve introduced you to that you’ve rejected. Something has been up for a while and I want answers, kid. I’m just trying to help,” his eyes soften with that last bit, but Spencer is now too tipsy to respond similarly.

“That’s just it, Morgan. I don’t need your help, I’m fine. Nothing is going on, all these outings are pointless, and you should’ve just let me go home,” Spencer turns to leave, the alcohol flooding his senses, dizzying him as he whips around. He stops for a moment to regain his balance, and he hears Derek chuckle behind him, which only makes him even more annoyed with himself. 

“Come on, what’s going on, man?” Derek asks gently as he turns Spencer around by his shoulders, steadying once he’s faced him again. 

He sighs, accepting defeat. Every single emotion he’s held in over the past three months is released with that sigh, and he nearly crumbles when he croaks out, “I miss her.”

“Who, man?” confusion laces through Derek’s tone, and Spencer folds himself in half before he can answer.

“The-ugh! Pretty Library Girl!” he exclaims finally, words slurring together ever so slightly, “and she’s not just pretty, either. She’s the most beautifullest girl I’ve ever met, Derek,” his voice comes out in a whisper, and he felt the gravity of saying those words out loud, there was no going back now, “didn’t get her phone number, it was the biggest mistake of my life, Derek! I don’t care about any of these other girls you’ve introduced me to because none of them are her! And now I’ll never see her again!” he buries his face in his hands at the end of his rant. 

He's only vaguely aware of how dramatic he is in his drunkenness, holding in emotions for so long will do that to you. He’s thanking his lucky stars that Penelope and Emily exit the building the moment he says it. They can fill Derek in on the blanks on the walk home. He won’t be able to without bursting into tears. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

A wine glass balances delicately between your fingertips as you decide which clothes you want to take with you on the move, and which clothes you’ll be donating to your local GoodWill. 

“So, Hot FBI Guy will be living close by, right?” the crackled voice of your best friend, Mary, echoes from your computer, and you take another sip of wine at the mere mention of him. 

“All I know is that he works in Quantico. I have no idea where he lives,” you try and keep the conversation about Spencer as neutral as possible, the ache of his departure still stinging like it happened yesterday.

“Well, I’m just saying that if he works near D.C. then he’s local. Just. Saying.” she drags out, innocently holding her hands up like she’s being interrogated. Ironic. 

“What does that have to even do with anything?” you know you’re being dense, but you haven’t yet been able to confront what you’ve lost quite yet. That connection, albeit in its infancy, was a million times more powerful than anything you’ve felt with your past relationships. You long so desperately to know what you and Spencer could have been, and it gnaws at your stomach like a parasite.

“You know what it has to do with! If he was as into you as you told me he was, then I can guarantee you he’d jump at the chance to reconnect,” you wish you feel as confident as your best friend sounds. 

Still, excitement sparks in your belly at the thought of being so close to him. When Mary came to you a few weeks ago with a job opportunity at the National Museum of American History Library in D.C., you lept at the opportunity. Mr. Anderson had decided to retire shortly after the incident that brought Spencer to you. You can’t necessarily blame him, and you’re elated about the new prospect.

Whether your enthusiasm had to do with the job itself or the brunette agent that would be nearby is anybody’s guess. In the months since you’ve seen him, your memories with him have morphed into something dream-like, something you’ve disconnected from your reality. It’s the only way you’ve been able to continue without him. Reality is becoming harder to ignore, though, the more you put items in boxes and clothing in suitcases. You’re flying to D.C. in a few days to begin the move-in process, and that’s what this video call was supposed to be about. Key word: supposed. 

“I don’t know,” you take another big gulp, the acidity tickling your throat, “what if this silence is an answer? If he wanted to, he would, y’know?”

“Ugh! Fine! I guess that’s fair, if you want to be stubborn,” your best friend groans, and you smile at her theatrics, “so, how about I set you up with someone when you get over here? There’s a really cute guy that works at the local university, his name is Brad. He comes and works with us every now and then. Maybe when you get here I can introduce you guys.” 

“Ugh, Brad?” you spit out. The name tastes acrid on your tongue, like you can feel notes of the red flags already forming on your palette. 

“Don’t be so quick to judge!” Mary sputters, “you are the one who refuses to find Hot FBI Guy, so as your best friend, I’ve appointed myself to solve this problem for you.”

“Y’know, I never asked you to do that,” you joke as you finish the last drop in your glass, a pleasant buzz overtaking your senses. 

“I know, that’s why you love me!” she chirps, finishing her own wine, “I’ll text you his number, okay? I gotta get going, we both have a busy next few days. I’ll come get you from the airport when you land here, though, okay? Fly safe!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

Spencer’s long, deft fingers pad against the spines of books, some dating all the way back to the 1600s, some that must have been published within a year. He can tell by the condition of the spine itself. He hums to himself quietly, until the dull thud of books hitting against carpet takes him away from himself, his mind. He has to blink twice when he turns around, to make sure he’s not seeing things. It’s you. It’s you, and you’re flustered. You saw him first, he can tell by the way you scramble to pick up the books, avoiding eye contact while you shove them haphazardly back onto the metal cart you’re pushing. Melvil Dewey would turn over in his grave at the sight. 

“Let me help you,” Spencer starts gently, so ask not to spook you even more. He kneels slightly, his large hands picking up twice as many books as you were able to. His chest puffs just slightly at the way your eyes linger on them, your gaze following the way the veins in his hands stretch to accommodate the thick text in his hands. He folds back into himself, though, when your eyes meet. Those eyes. Those eyes he’s dreamed about night after night for four months, now inches away from him, staring right into his soul.

“Hi,” is the only thing he can say. It comes out breathy, like a secret.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky, so is your breath as you stand to adjust the books, now lying disorganized across the top of the cart.

“Stop-” your hand shoots out to cover his, and you both make immediate eye contacts at the action. Yours are wide and big, brows furrowed in regret. It makes his stomach drop and he tears his eyes away from yours, stepping back from the cart. 

“Spencer-” you start again, but he can take a hint. 

“No-no, don’t bother,” he smiles sheepishly as he backs away, “I get it, I’m sorry if I overstepped. It’s good to see you again, you look good,” he can’t help but dote, even if it’s obvious you don’t want to see him. 

He supposes he’s ruined things by not taking initiative the first time, has already accepted that life doesn’t hand out second chances. That’s why it’s not too difficult for him to start to walk away, even though his brain screeches at him to turn around with each step. 

“Spencer-wait!” he hears you call after him, and he believes in a god for the briefest moment.

“I’m sorry,” you gush, “I just-I wasn’t expecting to see you, which I guess is silly considering that we’re both here now, an-and you surprised me and then I dropped all of this…” you trail off, gesturing down to the mess you both created, but before you could continue, Spencer registered your words. 

“Wait-” his head snaps up, eyes locking with yours, brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that we’re both here now’? How long have you been here?”

Your face goes white, and his heart falls into his stomach. 

“About a month,” you mutter quietly, and Spencer positively aches. One month of you being within 50 miles of him, and he didn’t even know. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” you nearly plead with him, and he wants to take your hands in his and kiss all over them so you know you don’t ever have to plead, not when it comes to him. 

“I just didn’t know how to go about this, it’s not like we were really dating or anything…” you trail off, both of you seemingly struck by the verbal acknowledgement of a relationship, or whatever was going on between you two in Massachusetts. It hangs heavily between the two of you, absorbing all his brain power until an idyllic, domestic life with you is the only thought his big brain can create.

“Maybe we can start slow. Friendly,” he suggests. You’re reserved, not telling him something, so even though it physically aches to stay still, to not pull you in his arms and kiss every bit of skin he can find, he’d rather take this slow. He'd rather have you as only a friend than not at all. He did that already, and he never wants to again. 

“Yeah,” your eyes sparkle, and he can see the rest of his life in them, “friends.” Your smile at this moment is worth any heartache he’d ever have to go through.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“You know, that’s the fourth book you’ve checked out on American sewing patterns in the 1940s this week,” you smile when you hear your coworker’s voice float over from the checkout desk. 

Spencer’s here. 

“I got him,” you say once you’ve jogged into the front room, “don’t even worry about it,” you shoo your coworker who rolls her eyes, knowing full well you’re not alleviating her from a customer. 

“Neither of you are slick, you know,” your coworker jokes in a quiet tone that only you can hear, and you blush furiously at her insinuation.

“Doing some light reading over the weekend, Doc?” you smirk as the scanner beeps, a red light flashing over the barcode of his book. He smiles and looks down, a slight pink tint dusting his cheeks at the title.

“Not really, actually. We’re working on a case with an unsub who’s very well versed in sewing patterns,” he chews around the words, a cinnamon sugar donut resting in his left hand. 

“I see,” you respond, bagging his book, “and you’ve been assigned to do all the research on the symbolism of sewing patterns?” you raise your brows teasingly, and it earns you a million dollar Spencer Reid smile.

“You know it,” he chuckles a little as his cheeks redden, you’ll never get tired of seeing him blush.

“Well…maybe I can help you?” you offer shyly, “y’know, my mom was a professional seamstress back in the day. Taught me everything she knows. I’m no FBI profiler, but I might be able to help,” you shrug, and now it’s your turn for your cheeks to heat up. With the intensity with which he was looking at you, you were surprised you didn’t burst into flames on the spot.

“Realy? You never told me that,” Spencer whines accusatively. 

“Well, we’ve only been friends again for three weeks. Sorry we haven’t yet gotten into our parents’ lore yet,” you joke, and you can just barely make out a shift in his eyes, like the acknowledgement of your current predicament pains him, “my shift’s done in about 15 minutes,” you soldier on, “let me finish up everything I need to do and I’ll meet you over there,” you nod towards one of the comfortable study couches in your library, complete with tables, cupholders, and outlets.

When you found him there a mere 20 minutes later, you could have melted. Glasses you’ve never seen before perch on his nose. Your heart swells, a symphony of angels could come down and sing at any moment at the mere sight of the wiry frames resting on his nose. There’s an extra pep in your step as you approach him, and his eyes light up once he sees you’ve arrived. 

“Hey!” he chimes, happy as a clam, “you ready to study up on the importance of sewing during the second World War?” he punctuates his question with the slam of a thick textbook on the table, and you lean back slightly so as to avoid the dust emanating from it.

“Oof! Sorry!” he coughs, waving his hand in a weak attempt to dissipate the dust. It just makes you giggle, which in turn earns you yet another smile. You two stay like that for a moment, lost in time, lost in each other. Your head and ears become fuzzy, the pounding of your heart soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You rest your chin in your palm, and you won’t be surprised if cartoon hearts start beating out of your eyes while you listen to him spew out sewing information. 

You pretend to listen as your eyes trail down his face, from his hairline, down to the slope of his nose, to his full, pink lips. There’s remnants of sugar dusting his lips from the donut he had earlier, and you allow yourself one brief moment to wonder what it’d taste like. If he’d let you run your tongue over his bottom lip and find out. The mere thought makes you shudder, and you adjust in your seat. You throw your right leg over your left in a way that allows the sundress you wore today to cling to every curve and dip of your body, something Spencer notices. You see him adjust, moving the arm closest to you to rest on the table. He feels it too. He wouldn’t be shielding himself if he didn’t.

“Sooo…” he trails off, cheeks reddening once more. You’ll never get tired of it. “How much do you know about sewing? Or was this all a ruse to spend some one on one time with me?” he raises his eyebrows accusatively at you, and it loosens the tension in your shoulders, a laugh bursting from your throat. 

“There it is,” he mutters softly, seemingly to himself. 

His chin is also resting in his palm now, and it’s brought you closer together. His nose is just inches from yours, your legs entangling with each other under the table. You see his eyes go down, down. You feel them scan over your body, studying the flowing linen of your floral print clad frame. You see his eyes linger on your chest for a brief moment, his own breath picking up at the slightest peek of your cleavage heaving up and down. The way it cinches your waist, the way it allows the rest of your curves to flow freely below it, he drinks it all in. It’s completely silent, save for your heavy breathing. All you can do is watch.

“There what is?” you ask, adjusting once more in your seat so you can face him directly. 

You’re open to him, now. Chest fully open and facing him, one arm on the table and the other on the back of your chair. You’re showing him you’re open, you’re ready. You would push him onto this table and kiss him silly right now if you could, you’d give him a really good reason to love this sundress. 

“Could tell something was keeping you tense. I wanted to make you laugh so you’d loosen up,” he smiles, “and because I love your laugh.”

You smile and inch impossibly closer, until you’re yanked out of your dream world and slammed onto the cold, hard ground in seconds.

“Hey, babe! You ready? We got reservations in like a half hour,” you feel a hand on your shoulder from behind and a kiss to your cheek. Your stomach plummets, eyes wide like you’re in a horror film and the killer is behind you.

You can see the instant disappointment creeping onto Spencer’s face. He doesn’t want to show it, but it’s there. 

“Brad!” you chirp in the fakest possible voice you can muster. 

You look up over your shoulder at the man Mary set you up with. He’s taking you on your third date tonight. You completely and totally forgot. A fire of guilt ignites in your lower belly, burning hot until you’re nearly sick with it. Your head snaps back to Spencer, where you see him collect his materials. Your heart sinks into your stomach, charring itself to bits with the rest of your guts down there. 

“Spencer-” you reach an arm out to stop him, but he yanks it away. An internal skewer prods your fire, makes it hotter, bigger. 

“I checked this out, actually. I’ll look it over at the station, it’ll probably take me not even 10 minutes to read it by myself anyway,” he rambles sheepishly, his face now turning red for the worst possible reason. 

“Hey, man!” Brad chuckles obliviously, and you wish you could crawl into a hole right then and there, “you must be her genius FBI friend, yeah she talks about you,” he puts his hands on his hips as his head turns from him, back to you. Realization dawns on his face as Brad reaches out his hand, Spencer shakes it professionally and you want to die.

“Talks a lot about you, actually. It’s funny, I never really understood what a guy with such a high IQ would be doing in the FBI, but that’s just me,” he’s the only one that chuckles at his statement, his gaze now turned towards his phone, “plus, don’t you need to be more fit to be in the FBI? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who chases down killers.”

“Yeah, well, my unit actually profiles the behavior of serial killers in order to catch them. That’s where my IQ of 187 comes in, as well as my three PhDs,” you can tell he's word vomiting, and he sends a fake smile at Brad, who gives not one signal that he listened to any of that at all. You can hear the shake in Spencer’s voice. He’s trying to make it through this conversation without blowing a gasket. You’re doing the same. 

“Yeah, man, that’s sweet,” he flips his gum around in his mouth, chewing as he scrolls on his phone, “listen, can we go now, babe? I’m starving,” he tries slinking his arm over your shoulders, eyes still glued to his phone. 

This isn’t unusual for him, he’s been guilty of this the past few dates he took you on. Whether it was when you were ordering the food, or walking home, a time would come on the date where his eyes wouldn’t leave his phone. It piqued your curiosity, but truthfully, you never liked him enough to care. This position allows you a quick glance at his screen, opened in the messages of someone named Emma, who he’s also calling ‘babe’. 

Spencer takes this as his cue to leave, though. You know you don’t deserve it, but not getting a goodbye from him is like a kick to the shins. 

“Yeah-yeah, I’ll be ready in just one second,” you say breathlessly, “gonna just go walk him out,” you give him a weak smile before breaking into a jog to catch up with him.

“Spencer!” you call as you jog out to the patio, where you saw him for the first time that March morning. 

“When were you going to tell me you have a boyfriend?” he turns, not letting you get a word in edgewise. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaim, grasping at straws to save face, “he’s just someone that Mary set me up with. We’ve only gone out on a few dates, it’s not a serious thing!” the wind whips desperately between the two of you, an earthly manifestation of four months of swirling emotions, repressed and ready to bubble over the surface. It’s true that you’ve only been on a few dates with the guy, but you know what honesty means to Spencer. You know that lying by omission is still a lie. You were so desperate to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, you just wanted to let someone else do it for you. You never expected Spencer to come back, never expected a friendship like this to blossom, never expected to be in love with him while dating someone else. You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, ignoring it was not the best way to handle that.

“Serious enough to call you ‘babe’,” he mutters to the ground, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey!” you spit, now defensive, “you were the one who wanted to just be ‘friends’,” you throw up air quotes, “you don’t get to be mad now!”

“‘m not mad,” Spencer insists, grumbly. His gaze is kept on the ground, the toe of his Converse kicking a rock, “I get it. You’re beautiful, he’s beautiful. No wonder Mary thought you’d be a great couple. I see it, I really do. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me, ‘s all,” his voice is high pitched and whiny, an aggravated tone that gives away his true feelings whether he means to or not.  

You roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest, “because, Spencer, I didn’t realize I had to run every single relationship choice by a man I’ve only really known for three weeks! A man who took off without leaving any way for me to contact him! So yeah, don’t be too surprised that I’ve moved on,” you huff, eyebrows drawn downwards in an angry pout. 

“Moved on?” Spencer whines, turning to face you, “we spent one day together! I’m an FBI agent, I can’t just hand out my number to random strangers I meet on cases!” “You and I both know I wasn’t just a random stranger on a case!” you shout, and a heavy silence falls between you. 

The rain splatters harshly against the ground, moving so fast you can barely see each individual raindrop. Your mind is a similar storm, clouded, dark, and so desperate for sun. The sun in your case is the man standing before you, chest heaving as he stares back at you. 

“I don’t know, Spencer, I don’t know,” you chuckle, breaking the silence with a venomous huff, “we spent one day together, yes, but I felt a connection with you that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I know you felt it too. Do you go around telling everybody you meet on a case about how amazing your mentor was and how much you miss him?” 

He flinches, and you know you got him. 

“Leave him out of this,” is all he can mutter.

“You brought him into it in the first place,” you jab back. You know you’re being petty, you know you’re in the wrong, but you can’t accept it. Not with Spencer standing right in front of you, looking at you like he’s Caesar and you’re Brutus holding a bloodied knife in your hand. Maybe that’s exactly who you are, but the humiliation of your mistakes creeps into every bone in your body, sitting most prominently in your throat. It’s strangling you, holding you back from any logic, your emotions running rampant throughout this conversation. 

“Have fun on your date, I have a killer to catch,” Spencer doesn’t spare you one last look before leaving you stranded in the rain. 

You return to your desk completely soaked through, and Brad’s eyes widen in a condescending way that makes your skin crawl. 

“Whew,” he whistles, nearly scared at the sight of you, “well, it seems like you two have some stuff you need to work out. You’re hot, but I’m not interested in being a part of some weird ass love triangle you have going on with that loser. See ya around,” he raps his knuckles on the desk and leaves without second thought. 

Your skin crawls at his third grade insult, your eyes trained on his retreating figure. You’re frozen in place, unbelieving that this all just unfolded in front of you, because of you. Your pruney fingers come up to hide your soaked face. You can only imagine how much of a disaster you looked like right now, dripping and wilted, like the dewey trees hanging outside. You stare at one in front of the window by your desk, and can’t help but feel envious of the sopping bark and dripping leaves. Their storm is about growth, renewal, yours was brought on by your own selfishness and humiliation. Your head falls back into your hands. You need to make things right with Spencer. You’ve already lost him once, you know you won’t be able to go through it again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“Hey!” Spencer whines, snapped out of his stewing by a crumpled piece of paper flying from Emily’s direction hitting him square on the nose.

“What’d you do that for!?” he whines, nose scrunching as he throws the paper back at the perpetrator. 

“You need to focus, Genius!” her voice rings sarcastically, “were you able to get any help from your girly friend at the library or no?”

Spencer’s insides twist at her teasing, the sheer mention of you makes him want to crawl in a hole and never come out. He feels like such an idiot. In what world would someone so beautiful actually like someone like him? The humiliation regresses his emotions to the sinking feeling in his gut he felt when he was 12, watching the jock ask the girl from his AP calculus class that he’d fantasized about for months to prom. He knew it was a pipe dream then, but he should’ve known now, too. As angry as he is at you, he’s almost more angry with himself for letting his guard down. Your beauty destines you to someone like Brad, with his sculpted jaw and perfect hair. It’s a tale as old as time, one where there are two beauties and one beast left behind to study sewing patterns from World War II. 

“Oof, sore subject?” Emily asks after a moment of bitter silence, “I thought things were going well. I was thinking we could even have her come in to help us with some of this if you want,” she pats the multiple books they have to help with the case. 

If it were any other circumstances, Spencer would feel grateful for his friend doing him a solid, even though they both know he could read everything on the conference room table in an hour. Now, though, the thought feels like a boiling pitchfork slicing through his gut. 

“Well, she’s on a date with someone named Brad right now, if you were curious,” Spencer snapped before walking out to read his books in peace. 

“What?” he hears a high pitched shout from behind him, and he fights an eye roll when he hears the clicking of Emily’s heels hot on his tail. “I thought things were going well? You were over there all the time, I mean you practically spent all of your free time there, everyone else thought you were just going into hermit mode, but I knew-” “Well, things change, Emily. I won’t be going there so much anymore,” Spencer cuts off her rambling dryly, trying to sound as neutral as possible about the situation. The shakiness in his voice tattletales on him, though. He knows he’s been figured out by the way Emily’s eyes narrow down at him, her tongue poking at her cheek. He accepts defeat, his forehead falling to the crook of his arms resting on his desk. 

“Alright…” Emily sighs, moving to sit adjacent to her distressed coworker, “lay it on me, kid.”

Spencer can’t help himself. Everything, every thought that’s been keeping him up late at night, every feeling that’s eaten through his stomach til it’s raw comes spilling out. He tells her about the last three weeks, about how it’s allowed him to actually establish a connection with you, and how it was better than he ever thought it could be. He tells her about Brad, about the patronizing way the beefcake eyed him up and down. 

“I just feel so stupid,” he vents, unable to make eye contact with Emily, “I really thought she could actually like me, but it makes so much sense that she’s with someone like him instead,” he shakes his head, gaze turning towards his lap, “she’s so pretty, Emily, I just blew it too many times.”

He’s ready to give up, ready to wallow in his sorrows with Derek, maybe finally take him up on all the offers to set him up. That’s what you did, anyway. 

“Well,” Emily scoffs, kicking her feet up on his desk. He frowns at the sight. “Your first problem is that you’re comparing yourself to this Brad loser-”

“You didn’t see him, though,” Spencer jumps in, defensive, “he’s perfect for her-”

“On the outside, maybe,” Emily cut him off, regaining power of the conversation. Spencer slumps back in his chair as she eyes him, “and honestly Spencer, that means nothing. I know you know that,” she says, and Spencer retreats into himself as her pointed gaze pierces through that rawness in his stomach.

“Honestly, Spencer, I’m shocked you’re so intimidated by some meathead,” she sits back, more relaxed now, it allows Spencer to loosen up too. “You’re Doctor Spencer Reid. Three times over, actually!” she makes sure to enunciate his full name, title and all, and it makes his chest lightly puff up once more, “just because you may not be some adonis with a six pack doesn’t make you undesirable, Spencer. I wish you knew that,” she utters that last bit quietly, softer, it makes his heart churn with vulnerability. 

“Sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to be like Derek,” Spencer remarks, “to not be scared to go out and find a connection, to be able to act on it once you find it. It’s one of the very few things I’m not an expert at,” he jokes lightly, and Emily smiles at him sadly. 

“Nobody is, Spencer,” Emily sighs, “love is messy, and it’s complicated, but it’s worth fighting for. If you really think going cold turkey on your library visits is the best way for you to handle this, then so be it. But I don’t want you forgetting who you are, what you bring to the table, because if someone is lucky enough to capture the attention of the Spencer Reid, she better be able to keep up,” she smiles at him, standing to ruffle his hair like a big sister. It still makes his cheeks go red. 

“Thanks Emily,” he mutters, “I’ll think about it.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

Your hands are visibly shaking as the elevator lifts you to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They grip the visitor’s badge dangling from your neck in a desperate attempt to find something to do. You’re here on business, though you’re not sure Spencer knows that. You’re not in the mood to find out. After two weeks of staring at the door from your desk, waiting so desperately to see your favorite person walk through the doors, only to go home disappointed everyday, you have no clue how he will react to seeing you, let alone working with you. 

Your eyes drop down to your phone, open to the email you received from Emily Prentiss earlier in the week, requesting a meeting with you for some advice on a case. Your eyes scan over one particular sentence, over, and over, and over again. ‘Spencer told me about how you helped him on cases, and I’d love to hear your expertise…’ You honestly stopped reading after ‘Spencer told me’. He talked about you. He told Emily about you, how you’d help him. It feels you with a mix of joy and fear at the same time. Did he tell her good things about you? Does she know the reason why he stopped coming by the library? 

You don’t have much time to ponder, as the doors of the elevator slide open with a ding. You take one step off the elevator, and that’s all you can muster. Your eyes frantically scan the hustle and bustle of the bureau, and you can’t help but feel even more intimidated than you already were. Panic slithers its way from your stomach and wraps itself around your throat like a cobra. You wonder if this was all a big mistake, if you should have just ignored it and stayed out of Spencer’s way. He didn’t fight for you, so why are you fighting for him? You turn around, the only movement you’ve made since stepping off the elevator, and desperately press the button multiple times.

“What are you doing here?” you freeze when you hear the unmistakable voice coming from behind you. The shake in his voice, the slight grievance in his tone makes you freeze again, and now you know you’ve made a mistake. Anything that has to do with Spencer paralyzes you, why would you think you could pull this off?

“Leaving,” you respond curtly, pressing the elevator button a few more times.

“That won’t work, just makes it move slower,” his tone is playful, but biting. He’s mad, you know he is, and bile rises in your throat at the thought. You fold your arms across your chest and do your best to ignore him, but you feel him. You always do, only this time, he’s closer to you than he’s been in weeks. It’s infiltrating your brain, your senses betraying all logic as the heat radiates from his chest, nearly pressed against your back, the smell of his woodsy aftershave floods your nostrils, the spice of his cologne lingering on his sweater a close runner up. You don’t spend much time thinking about your next actions, if you had you wouldn’t have grabbed the collar of Spencer’s shirt and dragged him into the elevator with you.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, okay? I’m so, so sorry. I made a huge mistake not telling you about Brad, it was a mistake to even go out with him to begin with,” you say that last part mostly to yourself as the doors shut. You and Spencer breathe heavily in the newfound silence, unsure where to go next. 

“What does that mean?” Spencer asks.

“What?” you huff.

“You said it was a mistake to go out with him to begin with. What does that mean?” he presses, like he’s in an interrogation. You don’t expect the sternness from him, but you can’t deny the way it sets your stomach aflame, burning embers warming your heart. 

“It means that I never wanted to just be friends with you, Spencer. I thought you were going to ask me for my number when we met for the first time in Massachusetts,” you brush fallen strands of hair out of your face, still out of breath from the intensity of the conversation, of having Spencer so vulnerable, so close to you. “You didn’t, though, and to be honest? I was crushed.”

His eyebrow quirks, “you were crushed?”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t feel a connection, even from our first meeting?” you challenge him, and when he ponders silently for a moment too long, you know you have him. “Me too,” you breathe, “I was so upset, my friend thought it would be a good idea to set me up with Brad, try and help me move on, y’know? It didn’t work, obviously, because now I’m here, at the first beck and call of anyone who’s anywhere close in proximity to you,” you chuckle condescendingly towards yourself, eyes filling with hot tears as humiliation seeps through your veins. 

“I mean…Spencer,” you scoff, breathing heavier now as tears spill over your lash line, “my entire life changed the day I met you,” his big brown eyes nearly turn you to applesauce in that moment, the way they gaze lovingly at you, a light shine reflecting off the LED light of the elevator.

“Mine too,” he mutters, voice raspy and cracked with emotion. “I’m sorry, too. I was just so hurt by that run-in with Brad that I didn’t think I could face you, was too humiliated,” his gaze falls towards the floor. 

“I’m so sorry for doing that to you, Spencer, I should have told you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion as tears slowly keep spilling. 

“Yeah, well, I should have asked for your number that day in March,” he smiles sheepishly at you, and you want nothing more than to just put him in your pocket and take him home with you. 

Your conversation is cut short by the ding of the elevator. You wipe at your cheeks before instinctively reaching for his hand, pulling him with you out into the parking structure. 

“Hey-” he lightly protests, although he goes along with you anyway, “you know I have to work still, right?”

“Well, you can tell Emily to take the fall for you,” you quip, “because she was the one who told me I needed to meet with her,” you turn to face Spencer, whose eyebrow quirks in the cutest way, “mmhm, told me it was a big case and everything.”

“We’re in between cases right now, what does she-” Spencer stops himself, the lightbulb flicking on over his head, “...oh.”

“You just now figured that out, Spence?” you gently tease, “you didn’t see her and Derek spying on us by the elevator?” you stop by your car, and the tension from the elevator follows the two of you, settling like dust. 

“No,” he chuckles bashfully, his arms lifting to lay lightly at your waist, testing the waters, “no, I didn’t. You ever considered a future in profiling?”

You can’t help but laugh further into his hold, you feel so naturally safe there that you can’t help but just step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, tears of relief, tears of overwhelming joy flood your eyes again. You know things aren’t perfect between you and Spencer, but the fact that there is finally a relationship to build floods your body with relief like a dam breaking. Your bones no longer ache for his touch, your heart slowly stitching itself back together, just from the healing powers of his magical arms. You feel his warm, calloused hand come to rest against your cheek, brushing a tear out of the way.

“Y’know,” he mutters, “the reason I stopped coming by after meeting Brad was because I felt stupid,” he continues when you quirk your brow, eyes full of confusion, “I felt stupid thinking you would like someone like me over someone like that,” he pumps his muscle in a weak attempt to mock Brad, but it earns him a chuckle from you, so his eyes shine. 

“Oh, Spencer,” you dote, your eyes shining into his with the brightest confession of love, “he could never hold a candle to you, I mean it,” you punctuate when he avoids eye contact, “not only are you the smartest, kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever met, you’re also incredibly sexy. Your hair works wonders you’ve never even heard of.” He looks at you like you’re crazy, “sexy?!” he exclaims, nearly forgetting he’s in the parking lot at his work, “I don’t think anyone’s ever actually called me sexy, and meant it,” he adds, quieter this time, and you have no choice. 

You place both your palms against his scruffy cheeks, clenching your thighs together at the thought of him not shaving for a few days, and press your lips to his. It’s not a picture perfect first kiss, either. It’s messy, it’s desperate, it conveys everything the two of you have been too scared to say over the past four months. You nearly swoon when he places a hand at the small of your back, tugging you closer and deepening the kiss. His scruff moves against your supple skin and reddens your chin in a way you’ll have to explain to your coworker later, but you don’t care. Right now, all you can care about is the feeling of his lips on yours, moving to your cheek, down your neck, nibbling at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you gasp, regretfully lifting his head up, “you’re at work.” His eyes close, like he’s trying to retain some composure. He rests his forehead against yours, and your eyes fall closed, too. Your hand grips his wrist as both of his hands rest against your cheeks, your breathing syncs, you lock eyes. You know from the second his blown out irises catch yours, there’s no way he’s going back in that office. He places the softest kiss to your lips, adding one more before he moves to bury his face in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses your back to your car.

“We can blame it on Emily, like you said,” he presses a kiss to your neck, “I’ve been thinking about the way your body would feel in my arms for four months, baby,” he rasps, and you want to hear him call you baby until the day you die. “I’m not giving it up now, if it’s an emergency, Hotch will call me,” he provides some reassurance before giving you one last kiss and heading around to the passenger side of your car.

“For now, though?” he poses, “we’re finishing this at your place.”

Your heart skips a beat as you hop in the driver’s seat.

[zerokaram]

college basketball!abby x reader (pt.2)

ways to help palestine🇵🇸

synopsis: abby, your best friend since your childhood, has been giving you too many mixed signs. she’s being a little too affectionate, and dare you think—possessive as shit?

a/n: i got a lot of comments on the first part to make some more, soo i’m giving the people what they want rn, (while also indulging in my own fantasies about abby) so let me know if you guys want more parts :))

you were at the afterparty for her game, since her team had won by a landslide; 82 to 138, abby scoring more than 75% of all the points. It was safe to say that wearing her jersey clearly worked, because she broke her record by so much since the last game. But points or wins wasn’t what was on her mind, it was you. but for gods sake, you’ve been talking to one of her teammates for at least half of the party now. she couldn’t take this bullshit anymore, she wanted you to spend the night with her.

she got up from her bar seat and walked over to you, the steps of her feet thundering through the ground—others making way for her since she was well known around the school. you had suddenly become aware of her presence—as you always were when she was around. You muttered a, ‘m’ sorry, excuse me,’ to the girl you were talking to, before standing up and giving abby a warm hug.

you smiled and held her hands, “abby ‘re you kidding me? you did amazing earlier!” you said, giving her another hug. “such a good game, abs. you have no clue.” you yelled loudly through the music blasting inside the drunkard filled bar.

her jealousness suddenly vanished at the sight of your smile.

god..who was she to stay mad at you?

she gave a small grin and picked you up effortlessly, big, toned arms wrapping around your body. she chuckled, “maybe i’ll break my record next season if you wear my jersey again,” she says, keeping her arms around you, stationed at both sides of your thighs.

you were painfully aware of each groove and vein of the muscles on her arms, her chest pushing up against yours and your legs wrapped around her waist, unable to get down unless she were to let you. the way she would for a little bit, flutter her eyes as they dart down to your lips, sometimes even to your tits for a split second, before going back up again. you felt the way her body heat lingered onto yours, and for a while, her scent of pine would fill your senses, keeping you hooked onto her no matter how hard you tried to snap yourself out of it time and time again.

you two stared at each other blankly as she still continued to carry you in her arms, not even struggling one bit—seemingly lost in your eyes, you doing the same.

she did that thing again. where she would look at your lips, your eyes, your lips, then back up again, trying to make up her mind on which beautiful feature of yours she should look at.

snapping out of the dangers of the fantasies that forced themselves into her mind as she continued to hold you, she makes haste to gently but quickly prop you back onto the ground, clearing her throat awkwardly as if she didn’t just fall in love with you all over again.

those 15 seconds felt like 15 hours, in fact—she could practically feel her heart about to beat out of her chest.

on the other hand, the place you two were in right now was no place for a conversation, you couldn’t barely hear each other from the music, for christ’s sake.

taking her chance, she sneaks a hand around your waist, making contact with you again, pulling you in close. she leans down because of the height difference, making sure you can hear her. “let’s go somewhere more quiet.” she says, she doesn’t ask.

you shiver at her touch. you’ve only now become aware of it.

was she always this affectionate..?

you would expect from abby, and i’m talking stereotypical jock, player, ms. steal your girl abby, that she wouldn’t be shying away from a party right? wrong. if anything, abby was secretly the type to enjoy deep, personal, vulnerable conversations instead of those stuff. but only you knew that. only you really knew her like that. only you could make her laugh, or cry, or be sappy the way you made her do.

she quickly took you by your wrist and pulled you around the bar, laughing with you as you two tried to figure a way out of the crowded heap, finally finding the door to the outside.

It was dark, and it was probably about 2 am in the morning, but she couldn’t care less right now.

you two made your way to her car, locking the doors and taking a few breaths from all the running.

“fuckin’ finally…get to spend some time with you.” she says, seeming a little too relieved. but it was true, the only reason she even went to the party was because you were gonna be there.

you roll your eyes and say, “do you miss me that much?” you ask.

“bet you’d be willing to spend your whole life with me if you could.” you say, recklessly, as it slips out of your mouth like water.

“yeah? what if i do?”

abby really was shit at hiding it since then. she was shit at hiding the way she would snicker, huff, or even roll her eyes when she saw a guy or a girl hitting on you. who the fuck were they to be trying you? didn’t they know about the rumors? obviously not if they still tried in the first place. but holy shit, did she wish they would back off. you were hers. you two have been best friends for years.

as she sees you picking up some books in the library—probably some volunteer work, she becomes aware of the slow rising anger fueling through her body as she watches this one girl you’ve been talking to for weeks touch and grope at your shoulder.

who the fuck was she to be touching you?

walking over to you angrily, she tries to genuinely compose herself and to not take that girl by her hair and push her the fuck away from you.

It’s not like she was jealous or anything, but she just didn’t like the people that were interested in you. They all wanted the same thing. Just sex, sex, sex. she didn’t want that for you. she wanted the best for you. and clearly, the way that girl has been touching all over you, she was just like all the others.

coming behind you, she wraps her arms around your waist slowly, mumbling a gruffly said, arrogant, and quite literally—pissed sentiment. “hey babe, who’s…this..?“ she manages to slip in, without you noticing, but clearly the other girl in front of you notices. her face drops as she realizes that the abby anderson was your best friend. and..based on the rumors, probably your girlfriend.

the girl across from you takes a step back, clearing her throat. she mumbles under her breath, “you know…i—I actually have somewhere to be.” she smiles trying to hide her evident panic. “it was—uhm, good talking to you, y/n.”

you turn around to be towered over by abbys stature. you look up at her and sigh, “abs. there was no reason for that.” you say.

while most would argue of her behavior being completely normal, you knew her like the back of your hand. she was clearly bothered.

she snarks, “she was practically undressing you with her fuckin’ eyes baby,” she says. “you have be careful with people like that.”

as much as you hated to admit it, she knew best. she was usually always right about the people you’ve tried to get with.

“js’ stay away from her, okay?” she mumbles.

you sigh.

this is gonna be a looong year.

taglist: @sapphicsuperstar444 @sipskelpjoos @lanafreitas-blog-blog @valenbodoque @jaci-lynn-1 @spacewlf @thatonementallyillsimp @gothbitez @naomis-daydream @bambishaven

[chaengluva]

Shy

Regina George x Fem!Reader: 2.6k words

You were so excited to show your girlfriend, Regina, your amazing artwork, but when you see it it’s completely ruined and when you find out who ruined it, your heart breaks. Regina finds the perfect way to cheer you up.

Warnings: Bullying, betrayal, slight angst, smut, Dom!Regina, Sub!Reader, Strap on, Eating out, Fingering, Mommy kink, don't mind Regina calling the strap her cock

I don’t usually write smut so sorry if its bad

In the beginning, Janis and Damien started to ignore you because you were dating Regina. It made you feel very lonely and Regina hated seeing you this way. You were sitting alone in art class, usually Janis and Damien would sit with you, but when they heard the news their heart broke with betrayal.

You pretended that it didn't bother you at all but it really did, they were whispering and giving you dirty looks throughout the whole class, you brushed it off and continued to paint, you were painting a mountain sight with the focus point being a waterfall. "That looks amazing Y/n!" The teacher says walking past, you smile, feeling proud of yourself, "Thanks miss."

You look over at Janis and Damien, seeing that they look at each other and roll their eyes, you sigh deeply and put your focus back on your artwork and add some final touches to the piece. The bell rang, you packed up all your stuff and left the artwork up so it could dry, you grabbed your bag and headed to the cafeteria.

You smiled when you saw Regina and quickly sat down next to her, she could feel the sadness in your body just by the way you sat down and how your smile wasn't genuine, she pulled you closer by your waist and leaned down slightly to whisper in your ear, "What's wrong baby?"

You look up at her with sad eyes, "I just don't get it, Janis and Damien will never let this grudge go." Regina sighs, pushing hair behind your ear, "Yeah It's going to take them a while to come to their senses, Let's talk about something that makes you happy?" You smile, "Well The teacher said she liked my artwork today, I really liked what I did!"

Regina smiled at you, "Well come on then, show me what you did." Regina said getting up, you smile brightly, dragging her to art class, you don't notice but Janis and Damien Smirk as you go to the art class.

You made it to the class and opened the door, confused why it's not locked. You brush it off and walk straight in and turn the lights off, you walk to where your artwork was drying, you look at it and gasp at what you see, Regina is standing behind you and gaps. "Y/n?"

Someone had poured black paint over the whole canvas, the painting was not dry yet so there was no saving the artwork, "My painting!" You gasp, this was the art work you had for an assessment that was 50% of your final grade and It was due in two days, you start to panic and the tears come to your eyes.

"It was good! Someone ruined it." You defended, she pulled you in for a hug, giving you comfort, "Don't worry baby..We will find out who did this." You nod, she wipes your tears and takes you to the principal's office.

You tell them what happened, the principle says that she'll check the footage, you ask if you allowed an extension on the assessment but she doesn't give you one, you start to panic again, Regina pulls you close to her and comforts you, "Baby it's okay, we will go to the shops after school and get whatever you need, I'll stay up with you and I'l willing to pay all the money in the world."

You smile at her words, they make you calm down and panic a little less. You wished you could get an extension but Regina knew you could do it, she knew you were talented and you could do anything if you put your mind to it.

After school the two of you rushed outside and when in her car, she drove to the art shop and you got everything that you needed, new brushes, a canvas, a canvas stand, paints, and all the other things that would make your artwork stand out from everyone else in the class.

The total ended up being over $300, Regina didn't seem to mind paying that much but you weren't going to let it go to waste. When you go to her house you set up everything straight away and began putting your full focus on that, Regina didn't want to disturb you so she went up to your room while you painted, a few hours passed and you still haven't moved from your spot, Regina came down and started to make you some dinner.

She saw that your artwork was coming along, you still had a while to go but you were doing really well for the time limited amount of time you had, she pulled you away and made you have a break while you ate your dinner, you didn't want to waste any time so you ate your food quickly and went back to painting your picture, This time Regina stayed with you, making sure that you didn't stay up too late.

It was 12am, you were staring to yawn and the artwork was almost finished, Regina came up behind you, "Babe, It's time for bed." You shook your head, determined to finish the artwork, "No.." you yawned, "I have to finish this.." Regina pulled you away and you didn't pull back this time, you still had another day and you were nearly finished so you didn't seem to mind.

The next morning, you get up early, way before Regina gets up. You start finalising your artwork, making sure that everything is done. "How long have you been up for?" A voice says, breaking the long silence. "Since 5am." Regina sighs, she sees that your artwork is finally done and it looks amazing!

You let it dry for the whole day, feeling confident about bringing it into class and showing whoever did this to your other artwork that you can get a better mark than them even though they tried to set you up. You walked into class and as soon as you sat down the principal walked in and asked you to come to the office. The whole class turned to look at you, saying "ooooo"

You rolled your eyes and got up and walked to the office with her, when you got there, you saw Janis and Damien sitting there, looking guilty, you walked in looking confused. "We found out that these are the people who ruined your artwork."

You looked at them and all the years you spent together had all gone to waste, you didn't even let them say a thing, you ran out and headed to the oval, you ran into someone, you looked up and thankfully it's your girlfriend. "Baby? What's wrong?" She asks, pulling you in for a hug. "J-Janis and Damien were the ones who ruined my artwork."

"Oh baby." She hugged you tighter as she thought of payback, but then she looked back at you and realised that she doesn't need to get those pathetic losers back. You redid your artwork and she knows that Janis and Damien will get the punishment they deserve. (She will definitely be getting them back)

Regina took you back to her place straight after, you were really hurt with what the the people you called your friends did to you, Regina knew how sad you were and how hurt you were, she comforted you, cuddling you close on her big bed, she would whisper sweet words into your ear, playing with your hair.

You had stopped crying after a while, Regina noticed your body to feel lighter and more relaxed, she looked at your face and smiled brightly to see that you were fast asleep, she quickly got up and set up a movie night for the two of you, downstairs, she made her mom cook dinner because she doesn't know how to cook.

While her mom was cooking she sat down on the bench and looked up pranks, but not one of them was good enough revenge for what Janis and Damien did.

"Mom.." She mumbled, getting her attention, her mom looked up, "Yes honey." Her mom said, Regina took a deep sigh before asking, "If someone who you love friends did something really bad to them, would you want to get revenge?" She looks at her daughter, rolling her eyes, "No."

Regina rolls her eyes back, "We think the opposite, are you sure I wasn't switched at birth?" Her mum giggles, continuing to scroll through her phone, still not being able to find anything that seems worth wasting her time on.

She hears light feet walk down the stairs, she smiles brightly, running up to you rubbing your eyes, you're still slightly tired but you feel much better then when you did before. "Baby, change into this shirt and tracksuit pants! We can be matching and post cute Instagram pictures." You smile brightly and jump up, wrapping your legs around her waist, she can't help but smile at your cuteness.

She carries you into the living room, the both of you change into the matching outfits, she takes a few photos of you and you take a few photos of her, and a few selfies together, she smiles as she choses her favourite ones to post to Instagram, putting a cute caption, she gets so many likes as soon as she clicks post, it's still shocking to you. The two of you sat on the couch, you were sitting between her legs, back against her front, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Minutes later, Regina's mom comes out with dinner, the two of you eat while picking a movie, deciding on a cheesy rom-com. "Regina! Your dad and I are going out, I can trust you to not burn the house down?" Regina nods, rolling her eyes.

As soon as the door closes, Regina starts kissing your neck, leaving dark spots all over, her arms go inside your shirt and grab your breasts, giving them a tight squeeze making you let out a loud moan, she smirks, giving you small kisses on the back of your neck, she hears your whimpers and whines and she knows that you want her, which only makes her want you more, she flips the two of you around, so you lying down on the couch and she's hovering over you. "Are we doing this?"

You nod smiling, taking your shirt off, allowing her to kiss your breasts, leaving more dark spots, she sticks her tongue  out and licks in between your breast, all the way back up to your lips, repositioning herself so now she's stranding your hips, she kisses you again, this time more slow and sloppy, when you pull away, strings of saliva fall down slowly after.

Regina's hands slowly go down and inside your tracksuit pants, she tickles your inner thighs, making you squirm, she looks down and see's that you're hating the teasing she's doing. "You want this?" She asks, kissing your forehead. You nod, not being able to even think of words at this point in time. She shakes her head, unsatisfied with your answer, "Words baby." You glared into her eyes, "Yes. I want it."

She pulled her hand out of your tracksuit pants, leaving you a little confused, she repositioned herself again so she was sat up right on the couch, leaning back, arm resting on the arm rest beside her, "Then earn it." She said, clicking her fingers, pointing to the floor in front of her, you were still confused, Regina laughed at how clueless  you were- she found it so cute. "Get on your knees."

You nodded and quickly rushed to get on your knees in front of her, she spread her legs and took her tracksuits pants off, carelessly throwing them somewhere. You stared up at the breath taking goddess, not wanting to do anything without her permission. She took her panties off and you were surprised by how wet she already was, the scene only made you more wet and you had to rub your thighs to allow some friction in between your legs. "Come on, don't make mommy wait." She said, gripping your hair, shoving you into her pussy.

You liked her clit, making Regina let out a loud moan, she gripped your hair tighter, shoving you further in, you shoved her tongue inside her, she let out another loud moan, gripping your hair up so you can look into your eyes, she stared down into your eyes, smirking at how submissive your eyes looked. You moved your tongue around, making Regina moan louder, she knew she was close, "Fuck baby, I'm gonna come."

You don't stop, you continue to give your girlfriend pleasure, she moans loudly and started grinding on your face, seconds later, she releases all over your face, your still on your knees and Regina is breathing heavily from the pleasure, once she catches her breath, she leans down, holding her finger under your chin to make you look up at her. "You did so good." she pats the couch next to her, telling you to lie down. You do as you told and lie down next to her.

She pulls your pants off, "Wait here." She says in a firm voice, going somewhere, she comes back with a blindfold and something behind her back, she puts the blindfold on your, you can't see anything but the little bit of light that was coming in the room. You heard clicking you were a little confused, a few seconds later you felt more weight added to the couch and a firm grip on your legs.

"I'm going to put your legs over my shoulders." She said, she wasn't asking, she pulled them over your shoulders and you felt the tip of her strap touch your entrance, you moaned slightly, you covered your mouth, she groaned and leaned forward, taking off the hand and your blindfold, staring into your eyes, you stared down and saw how big the strap was. "Regina.. It's to big."

Regina just laughs, kissing your lips, "I'll make it fit," She says, sitting back up, "And it's mommy." She corrects, she a lines the tip up with your entrance and with one forceful thrust she shoves it in, hitting your g-spot right away, you moaned loudly, she kept on thrusting inside you, kissing your lips to block out your loud moans, the room filled with kisses and wet sounds, you gasp at how good she makes you feel, "M-mommy. I'm gonna cum."

She hums in satisfaction, "Cum baby, Cum on my cock." She whispers in your ear, sucking on the area around it. You finally release, all over the strap, she pulls it out and takes it off, laying down next to you, pulling you in for a hug, she played with your hair and calmed you down from your heavy breathing.

"Baby, do you want to take a bath." Regina asks, kissing Your forehead. You nodded your head and she picked you up, taking care of you.

When you feel asleep she got out of bed and thought of the perfect plan on how to get Janis and Damien back.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

Diahann Carroll (Paris Blues, Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess)— Face of an angel. She had the range. She brought chemistry with every romance she portrayed. She also had a great fashion sense, and was so pretty Mattel made a doll based off of her.

We are in the quarterfinals of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Propaganda is not my own and is on a submission basis. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diahann Carroll:

Another groundbreaking black actress, although she might be better remembered for her television roles. She was also an activist and worked with charities to support women in need.

here she is hanging out with shadow prince anthony perkins :3

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

[yournameloveskpop]

Hi can you write about y/n telling sunoo that she can't sleep in midnight so they ended up having sex in bed until 3 am

Thank you!!

Midnight to 3 AM

Paring: Sunoo x Reader

Warning: smut, using the word baby, rough sex,

Style: Romance, NFSW

Word count: 2451

Y/N tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position in her bed. Next to her, Sunoo was fast asleep. He had come over after a long, intense schedule with Enhypen and had tried to stay awake with her, but exhaustion had won out.

Y/N sighed and rolled onto her side to admire Sunoo's sleeping form. He was just as cute asleep as he was awake, with his pouty lips squished against the pillow and his hand clutching her T-shirt for comfort.

“Why can't I sleep like you?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Sunoo stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. "Baby, why are you still awake?" he murmured, his voice low and groggy.

Y/N glanced at the clock on her nightstand. "I can't sleep," she admitted softly.

Sunoo reached over and turned on the soft-lit bed lamp. "Do you want to cuddle?" he asked, looking at her with concern.

Y/N nodded, shuffling closer to Sunoo, who wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek gently. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his hand making soothing circles on her back.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. "A lot of... personal things," she said, her voice trailing off.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, sensing her discomfort. "You can trust me. Tell me what's bothering you," he encouraged, his voice soft and reassuring.

Y/N took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I've been... struggling," she confessed. "I stay up all night trying to... satisfy myself, but nothing seems to work."

Sunoo's eyes softened with understanding. "Oh, I see," he said gently. "What have you tried?"

"Everything," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pillows, my fingers, toys... nothing helps."

Sunoo's hand continued to make soothing circles on her back. "You know you always have me to help you out with that, right?" he said, a teasing note in his voice.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Yeah I know but you’re always so tired and I don’t want to bother you with my problems?"

"Y/N, you’re my girlfriend. If you’re having this type of trouble you’re supposed to come to me," Sunoo teased, his fingers slipping into her pajama shorts. "Now. . . Did you want to feel something like this?" he asked, his fingers circling her clit slowly.

A shiver ran through Y/N's body as she nodded. "Yes, please," she whispered.

Sunoo's lips brushed against her cheek, then her neck, sending waves of pleasure through her. "Just relax," he murmured. "Let me take care of you."

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, his fingers maintaining their gentle, teasing movements.

"Yeah," she breathed, her hands gripping the sheets. "More than comfortable."

Sunoo rolled on top of her, his fingers still rubbing her clit. "You like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"God, yes," she moaned, her back arching slightly.

With a deft movement, Sunoo pulled her shorts off, spreading her legs apart to get a better angle. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his eyes drinking her in.

Y/N blushed, biting her lip. "You're making me feel amazing," she said, her voice barely audible.

Sunoo's touch grew more confident, more assured, as he found a rhythm that made her gasp. "You want me to go faster? Tell me what you want, baby," he asked, his fingers going a little faster.

"Faster, yes, please," she begged, her body trembling with need.

"Anything else?" he teased, his breath hot against her skin.

"Just... don't stop," she panted. "I want everything."

"Everything, huh?" Sunoo grinned, his fingers picking up speed. "I can do that."

He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss. "How's this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Perfect," she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair.

Sunoo shifted slightly, his mouth trailing kisses down her body. "You trust me?" he asked, his lips brushing against her inner thigh.

"Yes, I trust you," she replied, her breath hitching in anticipation.

Sunoo's mouth found her clit, his tongue flicking out to taste her. "Like this?" he asked, his voice muffled against her.

"Yes," she moaned, her hips bucking against him. "Just like that."

Sunoo's fingers worked in tandem with his mouth, each movement precise and deliberate. "Tell me if it's too much," he murmured between licks.

"Don't stop," she begged, her voice breaking with need. "Please, Sunoo."

His pace quickened, his fingers thrusting deeper as his tongue swirled around her clit. "You're so close, aren't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

"Yes, oh god, yes," she cried, her body trembling.

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice a seductive purr.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Y/N came undone, her body writhing in ecstasy. "Sunoo," she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Sunoo pulled away, his fingers and lips glistening with her juices. He licked his lips and fingers, savoring the taste. "You taste incredible," he murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Y/N, still breathing heavily, looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm not done with you," she whispered, pulling him in for a heated, deep kiss.

Their tongues intertwined, and she felt a renewed surge of desire. "Take this off," she demanded, tugging at his shirt.

Sunoo grinned, lifting his arms to help her remove his top. "You're eager, aren't you?" he teased, his hands roaming over her body.

Y/N pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist. "You have no idea," she replied, her voice dripping with need.

Sunoo's hands slid down to her ass, squeezing and slapping it playfully. "I like it when you're like this," he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Y/N moaned at the sensation, her hips grinding against his. "You like that?" she asked, her breath hot against his ear.

"More than you know," he groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh.

She kissed down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses. "I've been thinking about this for days," she confessed, her lips brushing against his skin.

Sunoo's breathing quickened. "Tell me more," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel," she said, her hands reaching the waistband of his pants. She pulled them down, freeing his hardened member.

Sunoo watched her intently, his breath hitching. "Do it," he whispered, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Y/N took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip. Sunoo let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands tangling in her hair. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily.

She took him deeper, her head bobbing rhythmically. "You like that?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Yes, God yes," he panted, his grip on her tightening. "Don't stop."

Y/N increased her pace, her hands working in tandem with her mouth. "You're so good," Sunoo moaned, his body trembling with pleasure. "So fucking good."

She pulled away for a moment, looking up at him with a sultry smile. "You taste amazing," she said, licking her lips.

Sunoo's eyes blazed with lust. "Come here," he growled, pulling her up to kiss her fiercely. "I want you."

Y/N straddled him again, positioning herself over his throbbing member. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and desire.

"Always," he replied, his hands gripping her hips.

She lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation. "Oh, Sunoo," she moaned, her nails digging into his chest.

He thrust up into her, meeting her movements with equal intensity. "You feel so good," he groaned, his hands guiding her rhythm.

"Harder," she begged, her voice desperate.

Sunoo obliged, his thrusts growing rougher and more urgent. "Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice strained with effort.

"Yes, yes," she cried out, her body moving in sync with his. "Don't stop."

Y/N bounced on his member hard, her hips rocking against his roughly. She knew exactly what she wanted from him. Sunoo watched her intensely, trying to match her thrusts. The way her hips moved against his and her breasts bounced in his face was driving him wild.

"Faster, Sunoo," she urged, her voice filled with need.

"You want it rougher?" he asked, his grip on her hips tightening.

"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her head falling back and face twisting in pleasure.

Sunoo's eyes darkened with lust. "You look so hot like this," he groaned, thrusting up into her with more force.

Y/N's pace quickened, her movements becoming more frantic. "I'm so close," she gasped, her body trembling.

"Me too," Sunoo grunted, his thrusts growing more erratic.

“Spank me," she demanded suddenly, her voice a mix of desperation and excitement.

Sunoo didn't hesitate, bringing his hand down on her ass with a sharp smack. "Like that?" he asked, a rough edge to his voice.

"Yes, more," she cried out, the sting mixing with pleasure.

He spanked her again, harder this time, his other hand gripping her waist to steady her. "You're amazing," he growled, his eyes locked on her.

Y/N's body shuddered with each slap, her movements growing more frenzied. "I'm gonna cum," she whimpered, her voice strained with intensity.

"Do it," Sunoo urged, his own release imminent. "Cum for me."

With a final, powerful thrust, Sunoo came inside her, his body convulsing. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his fingers digging into her skin.

Y/N followed seconds later, her orgasm crashing over her. "Sunoo!" she screamed, her body shaking uncontrollably. She squirted heavily, the intense release overwhelming her senses.

Sunoo's eyes widened, watching in awe as she squirted. "Damn," he breathed, clearly impressed. "You really let go."

She collapsed onto his chest, both of them breathing heavily. "You... made me do that," she said between breaths, a satisfied smile on her face.

Sunoo smirked, still catching his breath. "I liked it," he replied, his voice low and rough. "A lot."

Sunoo's grin widened. "Shall we see if I can make you squirt again?" he asked, already moving her onto her back.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her last orgasm. "Yes, please," she said eagerly, her legs spreading wide for him.

"You look so eager," Sunoo teased, positioning himself between her legs. "Like a cat in heat."

"I want you to cum inside me again," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.

Sunoo's eyes darkened with lust. "I can do that," he promised, his fingers tracing her inner thighs. "But first, let's see you lose control again."

He plunged his fingers into her, curling them just right, making her gasp. "Oh, Sunoo," she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed.

"Feels good?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr.

"Yes, so good," she panted, her hands clutching the sheets.

Sunoo's fingers moved faster, rougher, finding the rhythm that drove her wild. "You're so wet," he murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "I love it."

"Don't stop," she begged, her voice trembling. "Please, don't stop."

He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. "I won't," he whispered against her lips. "Not until you cum for me again."

Y/N's body arched, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Sunoo, I'm so close," she cried, her voice high-pitched.

"Let go," he urged, his fingers thrusting deeper. "Show me how good it feels."

With a strangled cry, Y/N came hard, her body convulsing. She squirted again, the sensation even more intense than before.

“Sunoo!" she screamed, her nails digging into his arms.

Sunoo watched, captivated, as she came undone. "That's it," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "Good girl."

Panting, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes hazy with pleasure. "Your turn," she said, a wicked smile on her lips.

"My turn?" Sunoo raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yeah," she said, pulling him down for a heated kiss. "I want you to cum inside me again."

Sunoo growled softly, positioning himself at her entrance. "As you wish," he said, thrusting into her with a powerful stroke.

Y/N gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Yes, just like that," she moaned, her body still sensitive from her orgasm.

Sunoo picked up the pace, his thrusts hard and deep. "You feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips. "So tight."

"Harder," she urged, her nails scratching down his back. "I want it rougher."

Sunoo complied, his movements becoming more intense. "You want it rough?" he asked, his voice strained with effort.

"Yes, please," she cried out, her body rocking with each thrust.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sunoo came inside her, his body shuddering. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his release intense.

Y/N moaned, feeling him fill her. "So good," she whispered, her body trembling.

The two kept going until they were completely spent, both exhausted and thoroughly satisfied.

Sunoo collapsed beside her, both of them breathing heavily. "You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Y/N smiled, pulling him close. "You too," she replied, her eyes closing in contentment.

Sunoo glanced over at the clock. "It's 3am," he noted, looking back at her with a teasing grin. "You want to go again?"

Y/N let out a satisfied sigh and shook her head, still trembling from the overstimulation. "No!" she laughed, burying her face against his neck. "I can barely move."

Sunoo chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Okay, let's try and get some rest then."

As the days passed, Y/N found her sleep had greatly improved after that night. No more late nights feeling sexually frustrated, at least for the time being. She woke up refreshed and content.

Sunoo, too, seemed to have a glow about him since that night. His stride was lighter, and there was a noticeable spring in his step. It didn't go unnoticed by the other members of Enhypen.

"Sunoo, you look different," Jungwon remarked one morning as they gathered at HYBE.

"Yeah, you're practically glowing," Jake added with a smirk. "Something happen?"

Sunoo just grinned, a knowing look in his eyes. "Just had a really good night," he replied, not giving away too much.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Care to share?"

Sunoo shook his head, still smiling. "Some things are best kept private."

The members exchanged glances, clearly intrigued but respectful of his privacy.

"Well, whatever it was, keep doing it," Jay said with a laugh. "It's good to see you this happy."

Sunoo just nodded, his thoughts drifting back to Y/N and the incredible night they had shared. "Trust me, I will."

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 1

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The clink of the spoon against the teacup echoed in the room. Your father, Tom, stared down at the tea, trying to keep his composure, but his heart ached for you.

He looked up at you sitting across from him. You could see the worry in his eyes, yet he seemed more concerned about you thinking he needed support, when it was supposed to be the other way around.

“Eat the cookies. You need to eat. You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Tom said, pushing the plate of cookies closer to you. His voice was gentle but firm.

The cold plate touched your skin, jolting you back to reality. You couldn’t believe that you had once promised never to come back home. Your father looked so much older than the last time you saw him, seven years ago.

As you watched him, you could see the lines on his face, the graying hair, the tiredness in his eyes. He looked fragile, contrasting to the robust and indifferent man you remembered.

He used to be so distant and reserved, his eyes always seeming to look through you rather than at you. His mind was always elsewhere, consumed by his work. You remember feeling invisible as if you were never a priority in his life.

He doesn’t know that you were an outcast and bullied the whole time you grew up in this town. It was all because of his job and the house you lived in.

Flashback Starts

In this town, there was only one mortician—your dad. And the funeral home was connected to your house.

Kids your age made fun of you relentlessly. They called your father the angel of death and labeled your home as hell. The bullying started early and only intensified as you got older. By high school, it felt like there was no escape.

But then, a glimmer of hope arrived when a new kid from the city transferred to your school.

His name was Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey. He was sent to this small-town school because he was a troublemaker. The principal asked you to help Ransom, hoping you could help him.

At first, it was tough. Ransom was resistant, and his rough exterior matched the rumors about him. But you stayed patient and persistent.

Over time, Ransom began to open up to you. His academic performance started to improve, and slowly, a bond formed between you.

Because of Ransom’s improvement, you met his family for the first time. It turned out that Drysdale was a mighty name. His family owned a big bank.

This was the turning point. Ransom introduced you to his grandfather, Harlan Drysdale. “Grandpa, my friend here is a genius. She’s the one who solved the issues you’ve been stressing about. I just showed it to her to ask her opinion, and she solved it.”

Harlan, the patriarch of the company, exuded a charisma you had never seen before. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and respect.

You felt nervous, your hands trembling slightly as you stood there. Harlan’s presence was intimidating, but there was a kindness in his eyes that put you at ease.

“Is that so?” Harlan said, a smile spreading across his face. “I’d like to hear more about this solution of yours.”

Ransom beamed with pride as he gestured for you to explain. You took a deep breath and started to talk about your idea, feeling a strange sense of confidence growing inside you. Harlan listened intently, nodding along, his expression thoughtful.

When you finished, Harlan leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. “You have a remarkable mind,” he said. “Ransom is lucky to have you as a friend.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt seen and appreciated. You glanced at Ransom, who gave you an encouraging nod.

Meeting Harlan and the Drysdale family marked the beginning of a new chapter. You were no longer just the mortician’s kid. You were someone with potential, someone who could make a difference.

The years of bullying and isolation started to feel like a distant memory, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and possibility.

He looked at you and slowly nodded. “For a high school student to solve a credit issue is amazing. I’m glad my grandson found a hidden talent.”

Your heart felt warm. You had never received such a compliment in your life.

“You will be a valuable asset in the future. Dear, are you interested in working with me?” Harlan asked.

“Yes, sir!” you replied quickly.

This was your golden ticket to leaving this town, having a better life, and succeeding.

After graduating high school, you packed your bags, said goodbye to your dad, and jumped into Ransom's car. As the car started moving, you didn’t glance back even once.

You had made your decision to leave everything behind.

You received a scholarship for college from the Drysdale charity, supported by a glowing recommendation letter from Harlan himself. You studied hard, like a person possessed, determined to graduate quickly and start working at the Drysdale company.

You graduated in two years and fulfilled your promise to work with Harlan. You gave it your all, becoming a workaholic to prove yourself.

Your hard work paid off, and you made a name for yourself in the finance world. They called you the “female Midas” because every company's stock you bought saw its price soar.

Harlan was proud of you; you could see it in his eyes.

Then everything changed after Harlan died.

The company's business structure changed too, with Ransom in charge. You tried to talk to him, but he didn’t listen.

One day, the FBI raided your office and accused you of insider trading. You hadn’t done it, but the accusation hit hard. Even without proof, you lost friends, and your trading and financial licenses were revoked.

You called Ransom, but he didn’t pick up. You tried contacting the other Drysdales, but nobody wanted to help.

You had spent seven years celebrating Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with them, but they still hadn’t accepted you.

You had poured your sweat, blood, and tears into this company, only to be thrown away. After everything, they still hadn’t accepted you. The way they made you feel like family, only to discard you, was a sick joke.

Even a wolf would accept a dog into its pack.

You sat alone in your empty apartment, your hands trembling with anger and betrayal. The silence was deafening, starkly contrasting to the lively gatherings you once shared with the Drysdales. The warmth you once felt from their acceptance had turned cold and hollow.

You looked at the framed photo on your desk, a picture of you and Harlan on the day you graduated. His proud smile felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the harsh reality of your present.

You picked up your phone one last time, scrolling through the countless unanswered messages to Ransom and the Drysdales. Each one felt like a dagger, a reminder of the trust and loyalty you had given, only to be met with silence and abandonment.

You have lost everything. The court has taken your apartment, your car, and blocked your bank account until the investigation is done.

You feel ashamed and don’t have any close friends to turn to.

Your last hope is your hometown. With your small amount of cash, you pack your laptop and a few outfits and take the last train home.

When you call your dad, his voice sounds uncertain when he hears you’re coming home and ask if he can pick you up.

It’s late at night when you arrive. It’s just you and your dad. You’re grateful no one else is around to see you.

Tom looks nervous. He tries to ask you on the car ride home, “Did something happen?”

You close your eyes and lean your head against the window. “I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow morning.”

“Ah. Right. You must be tired,” Tom says, his voice shaky.

The silence in the car is heavy, filled with unspoken words. Tom glances at you occasionally, his worry evident in the rearview mirror. You can feel the weight of his concern, but you can’t bring yourself to talk about it yet.

When you finally pull up to the house, it looks the same as when you left. The familiarity is both comforting and painful. Tom helps you with your bags, his hands trembling slightly.

You only brought one bag, but he wanted to carry it, as if carrying your burden. He could feel that you were going through something.

Inside, the house is quiet. You head straight to your old room, which hasn’t changed much. The sight of it brings a lump to your throat.

You drop your bags and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling exhausted and defeated.

Tom lingers in the doorway, unsure of what to do. “If you need anything, just let me know,” he says softly.

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply, managing a weak smile. He nods and gently closes the door, leaving you with your thoughts. The weight of your situation presses down on you, but at least here, in this small room, you feel a glimmer of safety.

Flashback End

*******

The next morning, you woke up with no desire to move on. But seeing your dad already waiting for you, you couldn’t make him wait for an answer.

So you told him about the struggle you're facing right now.

Tom wasn’t ready for this. He thought you returned because your heart was broken by Ransom or you missed home. Or, you missed him.

After hearing every word that came out of your mouth, he couldn’t believe it. His only daughter had been betrayed like this.

“I need to stay here for a while,” you said. You would stay until you heard from the court. You had sent them evidence proving your innocence.

"Why did you say that like you're asking for permission? This is your home," Tom replied. He didn’t care if you were a criminal or a murderer. If you needed a place to hide, he would provide it for you.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

'Knock. Knock.'

You and Tom looked at the door. Only he stood up. It seemed like he was already expecting someone.

He opened the door. "You're here early," he said.

You sipped your tea, assuming the newcomer was just another guest of your dad's.

"Nothing ever goes wrong when you do things early," the voice said cheerfully and friendly.

You almost choked on your tea. The voice sounded all too familiar, and you prayed it wasn't who you thought it was.

"Thanks. I'll meet you at the morgue in 5 minutes," said Tom as he moved to close the door.

"Are you having a guest?" the person asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Tom replied, his voice a little tense.

"Why are you nervous? Do you have a special friend?" The teasing tone drew closer.

You closed your eyes and clenched your fists. You knew your dad, short and not as physically imposing, wouldn't be able to stop the tall, athletic man approaching.

"Y/N?" the voice said, confirming your worst fears.

You opened your eyes and saw the new guest. Locking gazes with him, you felt a surge of apprehension and dread. He was Bucky Barnes, the embodiment of your past torment.

You, the quiet, bookish nerd, and he, the charismatic, popular guy—Bucky represented everything you had once dreaded in high school. His group of friends constantly tormented you.

Crossing your arms tightly, you couldn't mask the edge in your voice. "What is he doing here?"

"What does that mean?" you asked, your tone sharp.

Tom's hesitant introduction only added fuel to the fire. "He's my apprentice," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tom cleared his throat nervously. "Um, well... after I retire, I'll be passing the business on to Bucky."

You raised your eyebrows, not saying anything. Tom seemed nervous, perhaps worried that you were angry he hadn’t told you about this sooner.

Meanwhile, Bucky still looked stunned to see you standing there.

Leaning forward, you couldn't contain the resentment in your voice. "Him? Are you sure? He and his group made a mockery of this business every single day, taunting me whenever I set foot in school!"

The room fell silent, the tension thickening with each passing moment.

You had hoped to find refuge here, but now you were having second thoughts. The person who had bullied you was now working with your father and set to inherit the business. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

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Let Death Be Kinder Than Man

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Summary: Y/N is the new driver for Redbull and is fighting for the championship in 2024. One fateful lap in Imola changes her destiny forever.

Taglist

Warnings: Character death, graphic scenes, funeral, sad themes, life flashes, depiction of heaven, sights of deceased people from the past

------------------------------------

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the Imola circuit as Y/N made her way through the paddock, her footsteps echoing against the asphalt. She felt a sense of reverence as she approached the Ayrton Senna memorial statue, a towering tribute to the legendary driver whose life had been tragically cut short at this very track. Ronald Ratzenberger's memorial stood nearby, a poignant reminder of the dangers that loomed over the world of motorsport.

Y/N paused before the statue, her eyes tracing the contours of Senna's face, his expression frozen in eternal determination. She had always felt a deep connection to the Brazilian driver, his passion for the sport mirroring her own. She bowed her head in silent tribute, a gesture of respect for the man who had inspired generations of racers.

As she made her way back to the Red Bull Racing garage, Y/N's mind was consumed with thoughts of the championship battle that loomed ahead. She had worked tirelessly to reach this moment, each race a testament to her skill and determination. The championship title was within her grasp, but she knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges.

In the quiet moments before the race, Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She ran through her pre-race rituals, each one a comforting routine that helped calm her nerves. She checked her gear with meticulous care, ensuring that every piece was in its rightful place. Her helmet, adorned with tributes to Senna and Ratzenberger, was a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of greatness.

The atmosphere at Imola was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation. Fans from all over the world had gathered to witness the spectacle of F1 racing, their cheers and chants filling the air. The stands were a riot of color, with flags and banners waving in the breeze. Y/N felt a surge of pride as she looked out at the sea of faces, each one a testament to the passion and dedication of the fans.

In the garage, Y/N shared a moment with her car, a sleek and powerful machine that had carried her to victory countless times before. She ran her hand lovingly over the curves of the chassis, feeling a deep bond with the engineering marvel. The Red Bull Racing team bustled around her, their energy infectious as they made final adjustments to the car. They were more than just colleagues; they were a family united by a common goal.

As she prepared to take to the track, Y/N's mind was focused on the task ahead. The championship battle weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to let the pressure get to her. She had trained her whole life for this moment, and she was determined to seize it with both hands. With a final glance at the Senna memorial, Y/N climbed into her car, her heart racing with anticipation for the race that lay ahead.

The anticipation before the start of the Italy E Del'Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix was palpable, the air thick with excitement and tension. Y/N stood on the grid, her Red Bull Racing car gleaming under the bright Italian sun. The roar of the engines reverberated through her body, a symphony of power and adrenaline. She felt a surge of energy course through her veins as the lights went out, signaling the start of the race.

The first few laps were a blur of motion and noise as the cars jostled for position. Y/N's focus was unwavering as she navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, her eyes fixed on the cars ahead. The pack was tightly bunched, with rivals jockeying for position at every corner. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she pushed her car to the limit, her instincts honed from years of racing guiding her every move.

As the race settled into a rhythm, Y/N found herself locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Her rival, a seasoned competitor from a rival team, was determined to thwart her every move. The two drivers traded blows, each refusing to give an inch. The tension on the track was palpable, the spectators holding their breath as they watched the duel unfold.

Y/N's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategy and determination. She analyzed her rival's weaknesses, searching for an opportunity to make her move. The radio crackled with updates from her team, their voices calm and reassuring amidst the chaos of the race. Y/N listened intently, their words a lifeline as she fought for every inch of track.

The camaraderie among the drivers was evident, even in the heat of battle. Rivals acknowledged each other's skills with respectful nods, knowing that their battles pushed them to their limits. Y/N felt a sense of unity with her fellow competitors, each of them bound by a shared love for the sport and a desire to prove themselves on the world stage.

As the laps ticked by, Y/N's determination grew stronger. She could taste victory on the horizon, her dream of becoming champion within reach. But she knew that the road ahead would not be easy. The Imola circuit was unforgiving, its twists and turns testing her skills to the limit. She gritted her teeth and pushed on, her focus unwavering as she chased her ultimate goal.

The intensity of the race was relentless, each corner a test of skill and nerve. Y/N's heart raced as she pushed her car to its limits, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could feel the eyes of the world upon her, their hopes and dreams riding on her shoulders. But she refused to let the pressure get to her, drawing strength from the support of her team and the love of her fans.

On the fateful lap, Y/N's determination was unwavering. She was in a fierce battle for the lead, her car responding to her every command. As she approached the notorious Tamburello corner, her mind was a blend of focus and instinct. The moment before impact stretched into eternity. A slight miscalculation, a split-second too late on the brakes, and her car veered off the racing line.

Y/N felt the car twitch beneath her as she lost grip on the track. The rear end stepped out, and in an instant, she was off the racing line, headed towards the barriers at an unforgiving speed. The initial impact was jarring, the front of her car smashing into the concrete wall with a force that sent shockwaves through her body. Her helmet snapped forward, the straps straining to keep it in place. The barrier crumpled but held, absorbing some of the energy but not enough to prevent the severe consequences.

In the cockpit, Y/N's world became a blur of movement and noise. The car ricocheted off the barrier, spinning across the gravel trap in a cloud of dust and debris. Her body was thrown against the restraints, the violent motion bruising her ribs and straining her neck. The second impact, as the car came to a rest against a tire wall, was less forceful but equally jarring, leaving her dazed and struggling to catch her breath.

The safety cell had done its job, but the sheer force of the crash had taken its toll. Y/N's vision blurred, and a sharp pain shot through her chest. She fought to stay conscious, aware that every second counted. Her team’s voices crackled over the radio, desperate calls for her to respond. She could hear them, but forming words felt impossible. The world outside the cockpit seemed distant, the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd fading into a muffled background.

The medical team arrived swiftly, their faces a mix of concern and professionalism. They worked urgently to stabilize her, their voices a distant echo in her fading consciousness. Y/N's vision blurred, the world around her dissolving into a surreal haze. She was aware of the chaos, the frantic efforts to save her, but her mind began to drift, slipping into a dreamlike state.

Inside the car, the paramedics worked with practiced efficiency. They immobilized her neck and carefully extracted her from the mangled wreckage, placing her onto a stretcher. Y/N felt a mixture of pain and numbness, her body struggling to respond to the trauma it had endured. Her surroundings grew more abstract, and the faces of the medics became indistinct shapes as her vision dimmed.

The sounds around her began to fade, replaced by a profound silence. She was dimly aware of being loaded into the medical vehicle, the urgency in the medics' movements clear. Y/N's thoughts drifted to her family, her team, and the fans who had cheered her on. She hoped they knew she had fought with everything she had, that she had given her all for the sport she loved.

As the medical vehicle sped towards the hospital, Y/N's consciousness continued to wane. She felt herself slipping into a different state, a place where the pain and chaos of the crash seemed far away. In this in-between world, she found herself surrounded by images from the poem that had always resonated with her. The deer, the moths, the mice—each appeared before her, symbols of peace and transition.

The vivid imagery of the crash, the sounds, the sensations—all began to meld into this dreamlike tapestry. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her, a quiet acceptance of whatever lay ahead. She knew that she had pushed herself to the limit, and in that moment, she found peace.

Y/N's consciousness flickered in and out, her mind a tapestry of memories and visions. The pain in her body was a distant echo as she found herself in a tranquil meadow, the soft grass beneath her feet a stark contrast to the harsh asphalt of the track. The air was warm, filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and a gentle breeze brushed against her skin. This dreamscape blended with the poem’s imagery, each line coming to life around her. She saw deer grazing peacefully, their eyes reflecting a serene acceptance. They moved gracefully, embodying the calm and freedom she had always sought in her racing.

As she walked through the meadow, she noticed a group of moths fluttering around her, their wings shimmering in the light of a thousand suns. Each sun seemed to taste like sugar, and as the moths danced and played, they were swallowed whole, disappearing into the light with a sense of joyous surrender. This imagery reminded her of the countless nights she had spent under the glaring lights of the racetrack, each race a moment of pure, fleeting beauty.

Her career flashed before her eyes, a montage of victories and defeats, of the camaraderie and rivalries that defined her journey. She saw herself on the podium, the champagne spray mixing with her tears of joy. She heard the roar of the crowd, felt the weight of the trophy in her hands. Y/N remembered the late-night strategy sessions, the laughter shared with her team, and the quiet moments of doubt she had overcome. Each memory was vivid, a testament to the life she had lived with passion and purpose.

Y/N's thoughts drifted to the mice in the poem, creatures often overlooked and trapped in oil and glue. She imagined them in a warm, safe place with dry fur and full bellies, their struggles behind them. This vision resonated deeply with her, symbolizing the struggles and sacrifices she and her fellow drivers faced on and off the track. She felt a profound peace wash over her, an acceptance of whatever lay ahead. She knew she had given everything to the sport she loved, and that was enough.

On the grid, the reaction to her crash was one of horror and disbelief. Fellow drivers and team members watched in stunned silence as the medics worked. The race continued, but the spirit of competition was overshadowed by concern for Y/N. The camaraderie that bound the grid was now a shared grief, a collective holding of breath as they awaited news. The commentators spoke in hushed tones, their usual excitement replaced by solemnity. 

In the medical center, Y/N's condition was critical. Doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to stabilize her, their faces etched with concentration. The team back in the paddock waited anxiously for updates, their hope mingled with fear. The fans, who had cheered her every lap, now held their breath, united in a collective prayer for her recovery. Social media was flooded with messages of support, a testament to the impact Y/N had on the world of F1.

As her consciousness continued to wane, Y/N found herself in a new vision. She was no longer in the meadow but on a racetrack in the sky. The track was lined with ethereal figures, all the legends she had admired, their faces welcoming and full of encouragement. Ayrton Senna and Ronald Ratzenberger stood at the front, their presence a comforting reminder that she was not alone. She felt the weight of her injuries lift, replaced by a sense of lightness and freedom.

Y/N's car was there, pristine and ready, its engine purring with a familiar warmth. She climbed into the cockpit, her hands steady on the wheel. The track ahead was endless, a ribbon of light stretching into eternity. She knew this was her place, where she belonged. As she accelerated, the roar of the engine filled her ears, a symphony of power and grace. The pain and fear of her final moments on the track were gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated joy.

As Y/N's spirit soared, she felt a deep sense of peace. She knew that she had left an indelible mark on the world of F1, that her memory would live on in the hearts of those who loved her. The racetrack in the sky was her new home, a place of endless possibility and eternal speed. She was free, at last, to race without limits, her spirit forever entwined with the sport she had given her life to.

The announcement from the hospital came as a devastating blow: Y/N had succumbed to her injuries. The world of F1 was plunged into mourning. Her team, her fans, and her fellow drivers were united in their sorrow. Tributes poured in from every corner of the globe, each one a testament to Y/N's impact on the sport and those who loved her.

In the real world, the grid stood united in their grief. The news broke as the race resumed, a somber tone enveloping the track. The Red Bull Racing team was visibly shaken, their faces etched with grief. Mechanics and engineers who had worked tirelessly to give Y/N the best car possible stood together, their heads bowed in sorrow. Christian Horner, the team principal, fought back tears as he addressed the media, his voice heavy with emotion. "Y/N was not just a remarkable driver but an incredible person. Her spirit and dedication will be sorely missed."

Red Bull Racing honored her spirit with a moving tribute. Her car, draped in black, was pushed to the front of the garage, surrounded by flowers and messages from fans. A moment of silence was observed before the race restarted, the grid standing together in a poignant tribute to their fallen comrade. The fans, who had cheered her every lap, now gathered in silence, their banners and flags a sea of tears. The atmosphere was one of reverence and respect, a community united in grief.

Fellow drivers shared their memories of Y/N, recounting tales of her bravery, her kindness, and her unwavering passion for racing. Lewis Hamilton, a long-time friend and rival, spoke of her tenacity on the track and her warmth off it. "Y/N was a fierce competitor but always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. She brought a unique spirit to the paddock, and her legacy will live on in all of us." Sebastian Vettel echoed these sentiments, recalling the times they had spent discussing their love for the sport. "She had a heart of gold and a passion that was unmatched. The track will never be the same without her."

Y/N's family and friends gathered in the paddock, their faces a mix of sorrow and pride. They knew that she had lived her dream, that she had pushed the boundaries of what was possible. Her legacy was secure, her place in the annals of F1 history assured. The fans, too, mourned her loss, their grief a testament to the connection they felt with her. She had been more than just a driver; she had been an inspiration, a beacon of hope and determination.

Social media was flooded with tributes from fans, celebrities, and fellow athletes. Hashtags like #RIPYN and #ForeverInOurHearts trended worldwide. Videos of her greatest moments, from her breathtaking overtakes to her joyful celebrations on the podium, were shared millions of times. Her impact on the sport was evident, not just in her achievements but in the way she had touched the lives of so many.

Y/N's metaphoric transition to her 'heaven' was a vision of a racetrack in the skies. She found herself behind the wheel once more, the engine's roar a familiar and comforting sound. The track was lined with all those she had admired and competed against, their smiles welcoming her to this eternal race. Ayrton Senna stood at the forefront, his presence a comforting reminder that she was not alone. He nodded at her, a silent acknowledgment of their shared destiny. It was a place of peace, of sweet reunion, where the spirit of competition lived on in harmony.

Her funeral procession was a poignant farewell, a celebration of her life and legacy. The world watched as her family, friends, and fans came together to honor her memory. The streets were lined with mourners, holding candles and waving flags in Red Bull's colors. The procession moved slowly through the city, her car leading the way, now a symbol of her indomitable spirit. The outpouring of love and respect was overwhelming, a fitting tribute to a driver who had touched so many lives.

At the funeral service, her family spoke of her unyielding determination and her love for life. Her father, voice breaking, shared stories of her childhood, her early fascination with speed, and the relentless drive that had propelled her to the pinnacle of motorsport. "She lived her life with passion and courage. She chased her dreams fearlessly, and we are incredibly proud of all she achieved." Her teammates and close friends shared their memories, painting a picture of a woman who was as compassionate as she was competitive.

The service ended with a final lap of honor, a parade of F1 cars following her hearse. The roar of the engines was a fitting tribute, a final salute to a beloved driver who had left an indelible mark on the sport. As the cars completed their lap, the crowd erupted into applause, a spontaneous and heartfelt farewell.

From the afterlife, Y/N watched over the sport she loved, her spirit soaring high above the circuits she had once conquered. She observed the teams bustling in the paddock, the drivers preparing for their next races, and the fans filling the stands, their excitement palpable. Each race weekend was a bittersweet symphony, a blend of the past she cherished and the future that was being shaped by those she had left behind.

She saw the future races, the new champions rising, and the spirit of competition thriving. Young drivers, inspired by her legacy, pushed themselves to the limit, their determination mirroring her own. She felt a sense of pride as she watched them, knowing that her influence had paved the way for a new generation of racers. These new champions carried a piece of her with them, their successes a continuation of the journey she had started.

Her presence was felt in every corner of the track, a guiding force for those who followed in her footsteps. During qualifying sessions, moments of intense concentration, and the crucial decisions in the heat of the race, drivers often spoke of feeling a calming presence, a sense of reassurance that seemed to come from nowhere. They would later attribute these moments to Y/N, believing that she was watching over them, guiding them through their toughest challenges.

She was a guardian of the sport, her spirit living on in the hearts of fans and drivers alike. The paddock, once filled with her laughter and fierce determination, now held an aura of reverence for her memory. Photos of her iconic moments adorned the walls of the Red Bull Racing garage, a constant reminder of her contributions to the team. Engineers and mechanics often found themselves drawing strength from her legacy, pushing themselves to achieve excellence in her honor.

The beauty of F1, with its blend of danger and exhilaration, was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Y/N's story was a reminder of the sacrifices made in pursuit of greatness, and the indomitable will that drove her and others like her. Her name became synonymous with bravery and dedication, her career a shining example of what it meant to pursue one’s dreams relentlessly.

Her legacy was not just in her victories, but in the way she lived her life, with passion, courage, and a love for the sport that transcended the boundaries of life and death. Tributes continued to pour in, from fans who had never met her but felt a deep connection to her journey, to fellow drivers who had been inspired by her tenacity. Every social media post, every tribute video, every tearful fan at the track was a testament to the profound impact she had made.

In the end, Y/N found peace in knowing that she had lived her dream, and that her spirit would continue to inspire those who dared to chase theirs. The world of F1 would never forget her, and in every race, her memory would fuel the hearts of those who raced towards the horizon, chasing the thrill of speed and the glory of victory. She was there in every tight corner, every daring overtake, every triumph and heartbreak on the track. Her spirit was the whisper in the wind as the cars roared past, the flicker of light in the eyes of every driver who looked up to the skies for guidance.

The final races of the season saw many tributes in her honor. A special commemorative logo featuring her initials and a stylized angelic wing was added to the cars and helmets of many drivers. Fans held candlelight vigils, creating a sea of light and warmth in her memory. The FIA introduced an annual award in her name, celebrating the driver who best embodied the sportsmanship, courage, and dedication that Y/N had exemplified.

In the quiet moments before dawn at the circuits, when the world was still and the air was thick with anticipation, some claimed they could almost see her—an ethereal figure standing at the edge of the track, her eyes filled with a calm, knowing light. She watched over the sport she had loved so deeply, a silent guardian ensuring that the spirit of racing remained as vibrant and passionate as ever.

Y/N's story became a legend, a tale told to aspiring drivers and fans alike. It was a story of passion, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond between a racer and their machine. Her life, though tragically cut short, had been a testament to the human spirit’s capacity for greatness. And as the engines roared and the cars sped by, Y/N's legacy lived on, forever racing towards the horizon, where dreams and reality met in a blur of speed and glory.

============================

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[yayakoishii]

Can I request sanji and reader being childhood friends and meeting again years later (and sparks fly obviously)… Maybe reader was told Sanji was dead after he ran away from Germa so seeing him is absolutely crazy for them. Ideally reader ends up joining the straw hats? No worries if you don’t pick this one but I thought it’d be cute!!

Gone | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: Light angst, fluff? Spoilers for Wholecake Island

A/n: First off, thank you for the request!! I tried my best to write it the way you wanted but I ended up having to slightly tweak the reader's role since it would have been impossible for Sanji to have a friend in his Germa days. I hope you don't mind! If this wasn't quite what you wanted, feel free to send in another request. I hope you enjoy ♡

also available on ao3!

Everybody in Germa 66 sang praises of the three princes. If asked to pick a favourite, they would all probably say either of Ichiji, Niji or Yonji's names. Not you though.

At 6 years old, you had firmly decided to yourself that your favourite prince was Sanji. Yeah, he wasn't as strong as the other three, but he was kind and sweet and most importantly, he was your friend. Well, your secret friend. After all, he was royalty and royalty wasn't supposed to lower themselves to your level.

Being the child of a nurse in Germa, you had been programmed to be born as fearless and unquestioningly loyal to the Vinsmoke family. Except, for some reason, it hadn't worked on you and you had turned out to be normal. At that young age, you didn't really know it, of course. But you could sense that you were different from the rest.

When you saw soldiers easily stepping in to let themselves be killed just on one word from a Vinsmoke, it made you flinch and it made you scared. You hid your fear from everyone except for Her Majesty, Vinsmoke Sora. Your job at that young age was just to look after, entertain and distract her. (The adults didn't tell you that you were supposed to be distracting her from her actual children.)

That's where you had met Sanji. He was the only prince who visited her. You didn't really understand much at that age but you couldn't get how any child could stay away from their own mom for so long. It made you dislike the other three.

"(Y/n), can you treat His Highness' wound like I had taught you?" Your mother asked you as she helped Queen Sora to lie down. Beside her bed, Sanji was standing with a scratched knee. He had slipped on a puddle on the way to Sora. You nodded excitedly and bowed to Sanji clumsily, like your father had shown you.

"Come with me, Your Highness!"

Sanji and you had sat on one of the couches in the room and you slowly worked on disinfecting the wound and putting on the medicine. The said boy was sniffling, which made you look up curiously. Everyone said the princes were supposed to be strong and that they never showed any fear or even cried.

"Am I hurting you?" You asked worriedly, trying to be even gentler. You were just waving the cotton in the air now, instead of actually touching him with it. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying!" Sanji immediately stopped sniffling, looking slightly alarmed. You could tell that he was scared– just like you! It excited you and you nodded enthusiastically.

"No, you would never cry, Your Highness, of course not!" You tried to wink at him but ended up blinking. Sanji stared at you, a little confused and fascinated, then nodded quietly. "What did you make for Her Majesty today?"

He startled at your question then said shyly, "I tried curry rice today, with an omelette."

"Ooh, did you get it to spill over the rice?!" You asked excitedly as you finished placing your personal favourite band-aid on his knee.

"It failed," he pouted. Before you could try to cheer him up, Sanji noticed the band-aid. "What is this?"

"It's my favourite Kakuma band-aids," you whispered, leaning in so that only he heard it. Sanji blinked at you unsurely before looking back down at the band-aids with a cute bear pattern on it.

"Who's Kakuma?" He asked, feeling foolish. You launched into a big explanation of your favourite show, Kakuma the Bear of Justice. The adults in the room let you two stay like that and that afternoon, you and Sanji became friends. When it was time for him to leave, he had asked you to not call him ‘Your Highness’ because now you were his (secret) friend.

"But I can't do that," you pouted, clasping your hands behind your back. "I am not allowed to call you by your name. But, I am allowed to call you my prince. Would that be okay?"

6-year old Sanji had flushed at the sweet way you called him your prince. He liked the sound of it. He didn't really understand why, but you were now his first friend and you smiled at him and told him about your favourite show and you even told him secret cooking tips that you had sneaked out of your mother to help him cook a perfect omelette with soft gooey insides.

From that day on, whenever Sanji visited his mom, he would also give you some of his food to try. It sometimes tasted horrible and was even inedible at others, but you would always take at least one bite and praise his efforts. You found him very cool for even trying to make all those difficult recipes– your mom wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen.

The two of you were each other's closest and only friend, so the day King Judge announced the death of Sanji at sea, your 7 year old heart broke for the first time in your whole life. Not long after, Queen Sora passed away too.

When you were 8, your father was called as a Wall by Judge and died. Within the span of a year, you had lost all the closest people to you and then came the attack on Cozia. Your mother and a few other nurses got attacked in the scuffle and she had pushed you, telling you to run far away from the battleships of Germa.

That was the last you ever heard of the only remaining loved one you had.

•

It had been 11 years since then. You were no longer the kid you once were. You had ended up lost in the East Blue, worked your way into a pirate ship as a chore girl. The crew managed to make it into the Grand Line when you were 13, but ended up stranding you on an island after an attack killed off most of them, including the captain.

You had hopped around islands over the years, exploring and picking up jobs or working in crews or delivery ships to travel as many islands as you could. Now, you were currently living on a small island that was a few islands away from Marie Geosie. You had contemplated it but, it would be foolish to try to enter the New World without a really strong pirate crew who could possibly survive it. Having made peace with that, you had settled into a small rural town where you worked in a bar at night and taught children how to fight in the day.

Being a small island where the log pose reset within 3 hours, not many pirates or marines ever came by or stayed long enough if they did come. It was the perfect place for a peaceful life– a rare occurence on the Grand Line, in your opinion. So you had taken the chance and established yourself within the community smoothly.

There were rumours going around, though. Of a new generation of pirates that were slowly making their way through the first half of the Grand Line. You had heard some names in passing but didn't really keep up with the news much until that one fateful day. The Straw Hat pirates had docked on the island at sunset and the news spread like wildfire. It was the most interesting thing to happen in a long while and there was a strange tension in the air.

There was also another small crew that had arrived just before them so there was a possibility that the two might clash. You hoped that there would be no fighting for the sake of your simple town. You were at your workplace, serving drinks and food to the customers, most of whom were people from your town or the surrounding ones. There were some unfamiliar faces as well, which you guessed were the new pirates.

You worked while keeping an eye on the ones who gave you a bad feeling. Just towards the end of your shift, you suddenly saw one of the pirates try to grope your co-worker. Within a flash, you were next to her side, standing in between the lecherous pirate and her cowering figure.

In a small town like yours, people were more fiercely protective. While in any other place the girl would have been told to tolerate it, that was not the case in your town. And you were free to defend them and drive the customer out in such a case.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," your voice was cold as you shot him a murderous look. The pirate could sense that you weren't joking with your skills and got out of his seat. You turned around to hold the girl by her shoulders and looked over her to ensure he hadn't hurt her without you knowing. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm alri–"

You were distracted by her answer and felt the pirate swinging at you a little late. Despite ducking, his sword still nicked the side of your neck. You hissed and whirled around, ready to beat the shit out of him when instead, a leg on fire smashed the pirate down so hard that the wooden flooring broke under the pressure. You winced a little at how the splinters pierced him but you were distracted by the owner of the leg which was no longer on fire.

"Getting handsy with a lady and then attacking from behind?" You jolted in shock at the sight of the man. That blonde hair… those curly eyebrows… No way. He was sneering at the man with disgust, a put-out cigarette in his left hand. The man on the floor groaned lightly; he was probably experiencing a concussion. The blonde man looked up at you with concern. "Your neck is bleeding."

"Oh," you automatically covered the wound, feeling the wet, sticky liquid dirty your fingers. You had nearly forgotten about it in the shock of seeing your childhood friend after so many years. He was alive? After all this time?

"Hey, you should go treat it," the co-worker you had saved spoke hurriedly. "I'll take care of things here."

"You sure?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed. Your brain was still frozen from the shock but your body was already moving on auto-pilot.

"Yeah, go quickly before you lose any more blood," she insisted, guiding you to the backdoor. You heard footsteps follow you.

"Wait," the blonde man– Sanji? –said from behind. "I, would you like some help with that?"

You could do it by yourself. You always dress your wounds by yourself. But instead of declining it like usual, you flashed him a smile and said, "I would like that."

Your co-worker seemed surprised by your words too and decided to leave you alone for now. You took the Sanji-look-alike with you to the backroom where your first aid kit was in the bag. For once, you were grateful that you always lugged the thing around; you actually had it on you for the kids you taught. The two of you settled down on the bench and the blonde carefully picked up the necessary medicines.

You just stared at his face, drinking in his features. It felt a lot like a dream. Sanji was supposed to have died. And yet this man in front of you bore such a striking resemblance to him. You had never seen curly eyebrows like this outside of the Vinsmoke family. But there was no way that Germa would let Sanji go, surely?

"Thank you for taking care of that scum," you said, eyes flitting all over the blonde's face. The more you looked, the more you saw your friend in him. Even in the dim light of the backroom, you could still recognise the bright blue eyes. "I could have taken him on if I wasn't distracted."

"I can sense that," Sanji smiled at your wound as he cleaned it up. He wouldn't meet your eyes for some reason but you watched him with half-lidded eyes. His touch was gentle and his fingers felt weirdly cool on your skin. It sent shivers down your back. You were reminded of that day when you had dressed Sanji's tiny injury. Funny how your roles were swapped now. "This might sound a little weird but, you really remind me of someone important to me."

Your breath hitched and you automatically teased, "Bet you say that to all the girls."

He laughed and finally looked you in the eye, "I could never. That person is too far away. I will never meet them again in this life."

He stared down forlornly at your first-aid kit. You followed his look to the plain band-aids in the corner of your box. A smile played on your lips.

"I couldn't find any Kakuma ones here," you said quietly. Sanji froze, wide eyes running all over your face. "Turns out Kakuma isn't very popular outside of North Blue."

"You…" Sanji suddenly grabbed you by your shoulders and you flushed at the close proximity. This Sanji was different from the cute boy you once knew. He was now handsome, but still just as cool. "(Y/n)..?"

"I feel like I'm dreaming, my prince," you admitted, smiling weakly. You placed your hand lightly on his right cheek, brushing the cheek faintly as if you were worried he would disappear with a touch. "They said you died in a shipwreck. Am I just missing you so much that I'm starting to see you on the Grand Line?"

"It feels like a dream to me too," he sounded a little broken. Your fingers pressed into the smooth skin and, it felt too real to be a dream. He was really sitting across from you. "How did you end up here?"

You sat there quietly for a few seconds, remembering the worst days of your life when you lost all your loved ones one after the other. You had kept that bottled up all these years.

"Let me change and I'll tell you everything when we're out of here."

Sanji nodded and slinked out the backdoor while you hurriedly changed, packed up and joined him. You decided to take him down the shore as you spoke about all that had happened ever since his death was announced. He told you about what happened to him the whole time, about the imprisonment, the actual shipwreck, the Baratie and the Straw Hat pirates. Both of you talked and listened for so long, the moon was up high when you finally stopped walking.

The sea was gently crashing onto the shore. Your bare feet dug into the dry sand from a distance as you stared at the horizon.

"So," you hesitated. "What now?"

"Now…" Sanji trailed off as he turned his head to face you. "Do you want to come join us?"

You hadn't expected that. Snapping your neck towards him, you stared with wide disbelieving eyes.

"Shouldn't you ask your captain first?" You asked nervously. The idea of being by Sanji's side for the rest of your life made your heart beat faster. He was different from the boy you once knew but the past few hours had only made you realise that this new Sanji was still the kind and sweet boy beneath all his differences.

"I'll convince Luffy," he said. You realised he was just as nervous as you felt. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"Oh," you looked away and back at the horizon. The part of you that still craved adventure was all in support of the idea. The other practical side of you wondered if you could just up and leave your life here. (Everyone would understand, wouldn't they?) "I spent so much of my life thinking you were gone, Sanji. Thinking that I had lost you forever. Thinking that I would never meet you again."

Sanji didn't reply, just slipped his left hand into yours. He squeezed it gently, as a reminder that he was here now. That he wanted to have you by his side from now on.

"I don't want to let you go ever again."

Your admission earned you a soft smile from the cook. He fully turned his body to face yours and you did the same. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead that sent your heart jackrabbiting.

"I don't plan to either," he whispered.

With those simple words, all your inhibitions were gone.

"Then take me with you, my prince."

You pulled him into a hug for the first time in your life. You were no longer a prince and a servant. No longer quite the friends you once were. But it seemed like you two were on the path to becoming something else entirely.

A something else that you both looked forward to.

°•❀•°

A/n: I feel like Sanji would treat you very differently if you were his childhood friend. He would be so much more serious than his usual perverted facade because you already know him at his lowest point. Also, Kakuma is a made up cartoon character. I took the name from the Japanese verb Kakumau, which means to shelter/hide/protect—something I really wanted to do for kid Sanji :(

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

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[aynavaano]

The Cuddle pile

The Bad Batch x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.5k

Summary:

You and your boys are on shore leave and you spend it like you always do, at your home, a tiny flat on Coruscant. You all lounge on the sofa watching a holomovie with varying states of interest. The last missions have been especially rough and when you finally get to relax you start feeling a bit unwell. Your boys notice and take good care of you.

Notes:

This is a quick completely self-indulgent comfort fic I mainly wrote for myself but sharing is caring so I hope some of you enjoy it too. Reader is in an established relationship with all four of the original Batch members (sorry Echo stans) This is mostly comforting fluff that I wrote on an evening when I was feeling down but there is a hint of smut delivered by Crosshair (oral f receiving) and a bit of grabby hands from the rest. This is maybe not my best work but the target audience was met (me, I was the target audience) also no beta on this one, we die like our hope for Techs return. NO CLONECEST

The holomovie flickers on the screen, casting shifting shadows across the dimly lit living room of your tiny apartment when a sense of fatigue begins to settle over you. The last few missions have taken their toll, leaving you drained, both physically and mentally. You shift uncomfortably on the sofa, trying to ignore the growing unease in your stomach.

Hunter is the first to notice your discomfort. He glances over at you, concern etched in his features.

"You alright cyar’ika ?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry.

You muster a weak smile and shrug, not wanting to alarm the others.

"Just feeling a bit off, that's all," you reply, hoping it is nothing serious.

Tech, turns his attention away from his datapad, looking up at you and Hunter, who pulled you onto his chest, where you nestled your head against him.

"What's happening?" he inquires, having heard only half of the conversation, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Hunter's gaze remains fixed on you as he explains.

"She’s not feeling well."

Tech's eyes widened in understanding before he turns to you.

"Would you like some tea? Maybe a hot water bottle?" he offers, already getting up to fetch the supplies.

Grateful for the offer, you nod eagerly.

"That sounds perfect, thanks, Tech," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrecker, always happy to carry you around, pipes up from his spot on the sofa.

"You wanna go lie down mesh’la? Want me to put you to bed? Or a hot bath?" he suggests, his concern evident in his voice.

You nod again, feeling touched by their care and concern.

"Yeah, bed sounds great," you murmur and wiggle yourself out of Hunters embrace.

With a gentleness that only you experience with him, Wrecker scoops you up in his arms, effortlessly carrying you to your bedroom. The familiar comfort of the bed envelopes you as Wrecker lays you down gently, tucking the blankets around you with love and care.

It is a huge soft bed fitting all five of you, that you acquired after your relationship with the squad had evolved into something more serious and you all began to spend your shore leave together in your home.

Nestling around in the bed, you feel the weariness creeping in, your muscles aching with every movement. Summoning the last of your energy, you turn to him and murmur.

"Wrecker, could you grab the weighted blanket for me? I think it should be in the reading nook."

Wrecker smiles softly.

"Sure thing," he replies before bounding out into the living room in search of the coveted blanket.

Moments later, Tech enters the room, a steaming cup of your favorite tea in one hand and a hot water bottle in the other. He sets them down on the bedside table before turning to you, concern etched in his features.

"Need anything else?" he asks, his voice soft.

You hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to ask.

"Would you mind staying with me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, filled with vulnerability.

Tech's response is immediate. With a small smile, he nods.

"Of course, I'm happy to, if that makes you feel better," he says, his eyes warm with affection.

Quickly, Tech strips off his shirt, knowing you like to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and settles into the bed behind you, letting you rest against his chest.

Just then, Crosshair pops into the room, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Heard you wanted a weighted blanket," he quips, his eyes dancing with amusement as he walks over towards you discarding the toothpick from his lips.

Before you can respond, Crosshair sheds his shirt just like Tech did and joins you on the bed, settling beside you with a playful smirk. With exaggerated movements, he drapes himself over you, mimicking the sensation of a weighted blanket.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics, feeling the tension melting away with each chuckle.

"Yeah, much better," you reply, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you snuggle deeper into the warmth of your makeshift blanket called Crosshair, stealing a kiss while you’re at it.

When Wrecker returns with the weighted blanket in hand, carrying it as it weighs nothing while you always struggle to pick it up, his eyes widen in excitement at the sight of the cozy cuddle pile forming on the bed.

"Didn’t know that was the plan! I wanna join too!" he declares with childlike enthusiasm, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

You chuckle warmly, patting the space beside you to indicate where he should settle. "Come on, big guy, plenty of room for you," you encourage, your voice filled with affection.

With a gleeful whoop, Wrecker wastes no time shedding his shirt and sweatpants, leaving him clad only in his boxers. Before jumping into the bed he calls out to Hunter, who is still in the living room, his voice echoing through the small flat.

"Hey Hunt, get over here unless you wanna be left out!"

You hear the holomovie going silent and moments later Hunter enters the room, drawn by Wrecker's summons, where he is greeted by the heartwarming sight of you all intertwined in a mass of limbs and cuddles. You are nestled in the middle, with Tech on one side and Crosshair on the other, their arms wrapped around you protectively.

A soft smile tugs at Hunter's lips as he quickly strips down to his boxers and approaches the bed, his heart swelling with affection for your connection.

Climbing onto the bed, he moves with a gentle grace, his movements speaking volumes of the love he holds for you. When he reaches your side, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his touch conveying a depth of emotion beyond words.

Settling between your thighs, Hunter envelops you in his embrace, his hand reaching up to you, finding its way under your shirt and softly caressing your belly.

"I'm sorry I ruined the evening," you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt for disrupting the movie night.

Tech shakes his head.

"I didn't want to watch that movie anyway," he quips, offering you a reassuring smile.

Hunter's response is filled with warmth as he squeezes your hand gently.

"Spending the evening cuddled up with you in bed isn't exactly my definition of ruined," he says, his voice soft and sincere.

You can’t help but giggle at their reassurances, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

"You always take such good care of me, I already feel a bit better," you admit, grateful for their understanding and support.

“Just like you always take care of us mesh’la” Wrecker adds, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’d know a way to make you feel even better”

Crosshair's smirk catches your attention, and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity at his suggestive comment, knowing all too well what he is up to, it’s Crosshair after all, but you decide to play along.

"Oh really?," you chuckle, catching his mischievous smirk.

"And what way might that be to make me feel even better?"

His smirk widens into a grin as he leans in closer.

"Well, let's just say I have a few ideas in mind," he teases, his tone suggestive yet playful before kissing you softly.

"Alright, Cross, surprise me," you say kissing him back, this time allowing his tongue to explore your mouth.

“Move over Hunter and let me put that position to good use, seems like you won’t”

Crosshair's playful command draws a collective chuckle from the group as Hunter obediently shifts from between your thighs, making room for Crosshair to take his place. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he settles in, his eyes not leaving yours.

He begins kissing your thighs softly and when he looks up at you, seeking confirmation, you meet his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. With a subtle nod, you silently give him permission to proceed, your heart racing.

With practiced ease, Crosshair slides your panties off, his touch feather-light yet electrifying against your skin.

“Would you mind helping her Hunter?” he hisses towards his brother.

Hunter, who’s been busy kissing and nibbling on your neck, moves to assist you, gently helping you out of your shirt with a tender caress, lovingly fondling your bare breasts as soon as they are free, his touch a soothing balm against the lingering ache of fatigue.

Crosshair's touch is different today, not intense and demanding, but gentle and tender as he begins to kiss his way down your belly. Positioned between your parted legs, his eyes burn with an intensity that betrays his soft touch, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs with feather-light kisses.

When he finally reaches your pussy and begins to kiss along your slick folds, his tongue licking long strokes from your entrance up to your clit, a low moan escapes your lips, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

Each languid stroke, each delicate flick of his tongue, is met with a chorus of sighs and gasps as he teases you, his movements slow and deliberate, worshiping you in a way so different to how he normally does with you.

When he feels you are wet and relaxed enough, he parts your swollen lips with a gentle push of his fingers, his touch igniting a wildfire of sensation that consumes your senses.

He slowly slides two fingers inside you and begins thrusting in and out, drawing lewd sounds from your lips.

“Thats it cyar’ika, let go, let me take care of you”

The way he stretches your walls and the vibration of his voice against your core makes you arch off the mattress, pushing yourself further onto his fingers. He intuitively responds, deepening his thrusts and curling his fingers up, seeking out your most sensitive spot.

Meanwhile, Hunter's lips find yours in a sloppy kiss, his touch tender yet hungry, as he explores the depths of your mouth with his tongue, muffling the moans and gasps Crosshair draws from you. His hands roam your body with a fervent hunger, tracing lazy circles across your skin, worshipping your body with every caress.

Beside you, Wrecker and Tech lavish attention on your breasts, their touch gentle yet firm as they take care of you.

Wrecker's fingers tease and torment your nipples, his touch sending jolts of electricity racing through your body, while Tech's skilled hands explore the contours of your breasts with a tender precision that leaves you trembling with need.

With the attention of all four of them and Crosshairs touch growing more urgent, his movements more insistent, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your body writhing with a desperate need for release.

“I’m …m…close,” you whimper between Hunters kisses.

You hear a few grunts and gasps around you as they watch you squirming under Crosshairs touch, eyes closed, back arched and your face blissfully flushed in the perfect shade of pink.

“Be a good girl and come for me”

Then he closes his lips around your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pressure and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body writhing with a desperate need for release. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle of his lips, brings you closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you surrendered yourself completely.

With a final thrust of his fingers up towards that extra sweet spot, he pushes you over the edge, the tension snaps, your mind goes blissfully blank and you reach out grabbing a fistful of his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, while you ride out your high on his fingers.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as you surrender yourself to the blissful oblivion of the orgasm he’s given you. He carefully draws his fingers from your core planting a few soft kisses on your thighs to let you enjoy the last waves of your climax without overstimulating you.

When you slowly come down from your high, still panting against Hunters chest, Crosshair rises from his position between your legs, his face glistening with the remnants of your juices. He tenderly wipes away the traces of your arousal with the back of his hand before leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. His touch is gentle, his lips conveying a depth of emotion that he can hardly express with words.

“You feel better, riduur?” he whispers in your ear so quiet the others can’t hear it, he thinks, but Hunter hears everything, not that he needed to hear it, he knows how his little brother feels, how madly in love he is with you.

“Much better” you hum, kissing him.

You catch sight of his arousal straining against his sweatpants, and you reach out to palm him through the fabric. But he stops you with a gentle hand, a soft smile gracing his lips as he shakes his head.

"This was just for you," he murmurs, his voice a tender whisper against your skin.

"I wanted to make you feel better, and that's enough for me tonight."

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, filling you with a warmth that transcends the physical. As Crosshair leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips, his gaze softens with affection and love.

"But I'll gladly take you up on that offer when you’re better and you've rested," he whispers, his voice a gentle murmur against your skin.

You nod in understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of his care and devotion.

Tech shifts over to make room for Crosshair beside you, and as the five of you settle into the comforting embrace of each other, a sense of peace washes over you like a gentle tide. In the quiet stillness of your home, surrounded by the warmth and love of your boys, you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing and Crosshairs soothing heartbeat against your cheek.

Only Tech remains awake for a while longer, his fingers tapping away on his datapad with a quiet diligence. But soon, even he succumbs to the pull of slumber, slipping off his goggles and nestling into the warmth and comfort of the cuddle pile.

cyar’ika - darling/beloved

mesh’la - beautiful

riduur - wife

[hyuny-bunny]

cybersex | ot8 series

chapter I • chapter III

MDNI (18+): this series will depict sex work and acts of sex. content warnings will include the following for this chapter: mention of masturbation, oral (m rec), alcohol, p in v (no condom / reader on birth control), cum, creampie/breeding, use of pet names (good boy/puppy), threesome, afab reader

genre: skz x fem!reader, use of she/her/hers

wc: 3.5K

Chapter 2

You had stopped by to see Sana at the restaurant tonight while she was having her break. Since you didn’t have an official breakroom, most of the staff would sit in the storage room. You had come in from the alley through the exit and sat chatting away in the storage room. It was far from ideal but the room was quite big, there were tucked away corners stacked with crates no one used that doubled as your chairs. As you caught Sana up on all the moving festivities and the cute downstairs neighbor who always seemed to be heading out as you were coming in, someone walked into the room. You both fell quiet hearing two familiar voices.

“Do you really think it’s her?”

“All the dots connect back to her. Look, she’s been moving into that place all week and it just so conveniently happens to be that KitsuneKitty has been on a break?” You clocked in on Jeongin’s voice, Sana is about to speak but you’re quick to cover her mouth.

“Dude-”

“Hear me out, who else would Sana bring on to her stream? We know what her girlfriend looks like from the other streams. It’d only make sense considering that Sana and Y/N were living up until this last week. Then, after she came on the first stream, she filmed from the same room, two more times after that stream, before doing it in another spot. Besides, do you really think she makes enough here? To live in that apartment all alone?”

“You’re kinda creeping me out with how closely you pay attention to detail.” You hear Seungmin say as they shuffle around in their spot. They were talking about you not even realizing you were there listening to everything. 

“And you should pay attention more. Then, just the other day, I saw a box in the lobby on my way out addressed to her,” Jeongin is abruptly cut off by Seungmin.

“Please tell me you didn’t open her package.”

“OF COURSE NOT… I looked up the return address and it was to a sex store online.” You kick a bag of flour in the corner on accident. They stop talking for a moment trying to see if anyone else is in the storage room. Sana is frozen as a statue, she doesn't dare to take a breath. 

“Look, I’m not saying it isnt her… but what does it good does it do us to know if it is her? What’re you gonna say? ‘Hey, I wank it to you almost every night, big fan of your work’? You can’t even look her in the eye as it is, could you look her in the eyes if she knew how much you-” It was Seungmins turn to be cut off

“Oh don’t act like you’re above it! Your walls are a lot thinner than you think. I don’t know what I’d do though… Probably beg her to use me for her own pleasure.” The conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you hear the storage room door swing open. This time it’s  Minho’s voice that booms in. 

“I have plates getting cold, can you two stop fucking around and run them?” 

“Sorry, Jeongin wanted to discuss his revelations about your little minx. He’s getting too antsy for that surprise stream.” Seungmin slaps the back of Jeongins shirt as he pushes him out of the storage room. The room is silent once more with only the faint sound of Minho talking.

You turn to Sana to find that her eyes have gone as wide as yours. Your head is whirling with thoughts, all consumed by the reality that they knew. It didn’t scare you though, it only added to your excitement. Oh, tonight’s surprise might’ve been spoiled as you had planned a face reveal but another idea had come to mind. Instead, you toyed with the idea of what Jeongin had said. You pull out your phone to text the two of them.

“What’re you doing? Are you okay? I’m so sorry I should have never told those two idiots about my stream I just didn’t even think they were sober enough to remember let alone watch.” Sana asked worriedly, there’s a fear inside of her bubbling over, that she would be the reason you felt violated.

“This isn’t your fault! I’m fine really, I don’t mind at all. I’m a little surprised I guess but I knew the risk I was taking. Besides, I’m a little surprised that they would even begin to pay that much attention.” You say grabbing Sana by both arms to reassure her that you are more than okay. There was nothing to be upset about truthfully, you were flattered that they watched your streams. “Now, I think I owe my little detectives a surprise for figuring it out.

You: hey! do you two want to come by my place for some drinks tonight? i have a surprise for you both :3

Jeongin: sure! we’re both working rn but i’ll pick something up on the way :) 

Seung: sweeeet, whats the surprise?

You: it’s nothing really but its really something you’ll love!

They took the bait so easily it was almost comical, Sana was leaning over your shoulder watching your texts. 

“Oh you are a little minx, aren’t you? I think Mina and I will have to watch this tonight.”

—

You had set the room up for tonight's show, this room had been your best surprise yet. The windows were covered by white floor-to-ceiling drapes, tied with black ribbon and embroidered with delicate flowers. You had left the hardwood exposed, opting for a white fur throw rug in place moving it in or out of the way depending on the occasion. The bed was centered in the room, it was covered by silk pink sheets, a lacey pink comforter, white throw blankets, and an assortment of pillows in all shapes and sizes. The room was dimly with your led light bulbs, offering a soft pink glow to the room, it seemed like a sweet and coquettish room aside from the bookshelf lined with vibrators, dildos, and other assorted sex toys. 

You had prepped yourself like you normally had for these streams, the makeup was always fairly simple. A smooth base with glowy skin, the perfect shade of blush that made you look flushed, an eye shadow look that held more emphasis on the strategically placed shimmers that captured like diamonds with light reflections, and the mauve shade of lipstain that made your lips look pouty and bitten. You put on a matching black two-piece set under your inconspicuous outfit consisting of a grey sweater and black shorts that were a tighter fit, topped with a pair of black over-the-knee socks. The stream was set to start at 11 pm and your boys had arrived at 10 pm on the dot.

You opened the door with a gleeful smile, welcoming them in. They both wore t-shirts with sweats, and both had a cologne that wafted in the room. While you had never felt any crushing feelings for the two of them, there was no denying how cute they were. They were cute in the way that gets a girl giddy when she sees her waiter is this hot and their sweet mannerisms just added to the effect. You asked them how their day was as you pulled out some snacks for the beer they had brought over. You all sat on the floor surrounding the coffee table, the buzz slowly crept up on you.

“Mm so what was our surprise?” Seungmin asked as he took a sip of his drink. Jeongin had been frequently checking his phone, it was almost time. You had decided that now was as good of a time as any. There was still about 10 minutes from the countdown, that left the perfect amount of time to see if your plan would go as you wanted.

“You sure you want it now? Jeongin seems a little antsy, are you sure you want the surprise right now?” You smile to the both of them letting your eye contact linger on Jeongin a little longer, his lip bitten by his teeth.

‘Oh uh, um, yeah sorry I just was, uh, waiting for something.” He says before locking his phone once more and setting it down on the coffee table. You wink at him before telling them to follow you to the surprise, not missing the way Seungmin cocks a brow in surprise, and Jeongin’s cheeks flush pink. You walk down the hall to the two of them in toe, before you reach the door, you look up to the two of them with a warning. 

“You can refuse your surprise if you want, it’s no fun if you don’t want it got it?” They both shake their heads quickly like puppies before sparing a glance to each other. You open the door instructing them to sit in front of the screen, once the door is closed behind you, there's an internal flip switch for you.

 “I was thinking long and hard about what you said, and really, it warms my heart to know you two watch me to get off.” The tops of their cheeks are burning as they sit cross-legged staring at you sink to your knees, crawling over to them on all fours before stopping between the two of them. 

“And I thought that there was no better to reward you two for being so supportive of me then to return the favor? Hmm? I mean hearing you say you’d let me use Jeongin, got me so wet I had to come straight home and touch myself to the thought.” You notice the strain in their pants is growing, you feel yourself getting hotter when you lean forward resting your hands on the tops of their thighs. 

“You’ll let me use tonight, right, Jeongin? You’ve been such a good boy waiting for my return, you want to make me happy mm?” You say rubbing your hand up his thigh to where you can see the outline of his cock imprinting his sweats, he nods yes and whimpers when you brush your hands just across his boner. “Poor baby, can’t even use your words and I haven’t even started. I need to hear you say yes.”

“Y-yes, p-please.” You pull him into a kiss by his shirt muttering good boy and letting him lean back. You turn to Seungmin, his eyes are blown out staring at the hand resting on his thigh. You pick his chin up to make him look you in the eyes. His big brown puppy eyes stare at you, if it wasn’t for the waiting audience of viewers you would’ve pounced on the two of them already.

“You too puppy? I can’t touch you unless you say you want me to.”

“Yes.” Seungmin says almost above a whisper. You lean forward planting a sweet kiss on his lips as well. 

You swiftly stand up stripping yourself of the shorts and sweater, reaching for your mask before pressing the button to begin the stream. The chat is pouring with comments about where you’ve been, the new set up and most importantly your two guests. You giggle at some of the comments that already begging them to strip.

“You’re all gonna have to be warm and welcoming to my two guests okay? They’ve been some long-time supporters of mine and I have to show my gratitude in so my way right?” You say taking notice of the two boys palming themselves from the monitor. “Can my puppies strip for me?”

Any thoughts the two of them have ever shared are out the window, they both are pulling their shirts off, ridding themselves of all clothes til they're down to their underwear. You instruct them both to stay standing up, you look back at the monitor catching a glimpse of what everyone else was watching. You bite your lip looking at the monitor rubbing their hard on’s over their underwear, while stroking Seungmin, you pull Jeongin in close to you, reaching up to grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth pulling them down just until hit his knees. His thighs shiver and the feeling of your mouth so close to where he needed it. He kept his arms and hands behind his back unsure of what to do with them, he stepped out of the underwear where you returned to Seungmin to do the same. They’re both much bigger than you expected which only sends a rush of wetness into the spot in your panties that's already soaking through. 

You take Seungmin into your mouth looking up at him, he’s looking down at you with his jaw slack and moans slipping past his lips while you take as much of him into your mouth. You feels so warm and wet around him, he cant help the way his cock twitches when you moan so heavily around his cock. He forces himself to keep his hands at his sides while you work your mouth on him but the idea of taking a fistful of your and rutting himself into your mouth is tantalizing. Jeongin watches in awe looking up at his roommate's fucked expression, he waits like the good boy he is. Your hand still stroking him, his tip angry pink with drops of precum beading at the tip. The movement of your mouth against Seungmin gets sloppier as you leave your spit and saliva covered all over his cock, you feel him getting closer to cumming with the way he twitches in your mouth. You pull off him and he whines out at the loss, his cock twitching while you keep pumping ever so slowly.

“Such good boys aren’t they? Do we think they should cum yet?” You say while moving to Jeongin to bring him into your mouth next, he almost cums when your tongue makes contact. There’s a large donation thats sent to you that reads off a message

$1000 donation from hyjnny “let the one in your mouth fuck you doggy since he’s such a good dog”

You let him out of your mouth with a pop and smile looking back at the camera, thanking the donor. Your legs feel weak at the thought of letting Jeongin take you from behind. You continue to make sloppy wet noises against his cock, taking him as far down your throat before gagging and going back in once more. He watches with eyes wide, it feels like a dream to watch you take him down your throat. He was always shy with his size, too many of his partners complained that it wasn’t pleasurable so the idea of not only being so far down your throat but to fuck you in front of the thousands of people watching wanted to make him cry cumming.

Seungmin is starting to thrust into your hand as most of your focus is on Jeongin fitting in your mouth. He’s erratically fucking into the makeshift hole that is your hand, letting some of his own spit dribble out. You finally pull off Jeongin, and a line spit connecting your mouth to his cock stays between you two. You instruct them to kneel now once more in front of the camera, you align them to face each other with you in between, you lean into kiss Seugmin and place Jeongins hands on your tits. They’re both squishing you between them, Jeongin focused on groping your tits and ridding you of your bra. Seungmin’s hand dives to firmly grip your neck in his hand while Jeongin humps you over your underwear from behind. The room fills with the sound of wet kisses and breathy moans. You pull Seunmin off your mouth and pull your panties off to leave you in nothing but your socks. Another donation pings,

$500 donation from 97ddynahc “suck the brunette off while the other fucks you from behind, let them both breed your holes” 

Your pussy dripped with the need for the two of them, to take them both at the same time was going to take a lot to not orgasm at the first movement. You let Jeongin guide your hips in place, his tip swiping at your entrance and nudging your clit sending a chill through you and a gasp. 

“Let me know if it’s too much okay? I know I’m on the bigger side and its uncomfortable for some people,” Jeongin says in small voice, hes terrified of hurting.”

“I promise, puppy.” Every time you called them ‘good boy’ or ‘puppy’ it only made Jeongin want to fuck the sweetness out of you until you could only beg. He slides in letting you adjust to him before moving. He fills you up, you feel every inch and ridge inside of you as he rocks his hips back in forth. You thighs shake wanting to just squirt all over his cock in that moment.

“Jeongin, ah, please.. Go harder please,” Your whimpers sound like music to them, it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, slamming his hips down into you while Seungmin grabs your face to do the same. Seungmin takes hold of your head, creating a makeshift ponytail as he begins fucking your mouth, he’s big. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, the motion of the two of you only forces you to take Seungmin even further down your throat.

Jeongin can't help himself, he’s so entrapped with the way your ass moves with every slam of his hips. He adjusts your hips to pick up more speed and hits that spongey spot inside you, the new angle causes you to moan vibrating against Seungmins cock. It felt so dirty to be used the way you were at this very moment but it only made you clench around Jeongins cock. They both are panting and grunting with every thrust, skin slapping against skin. You feel your orgasm approaching quickly and hard. The build-up in your stomach has you clenching harder than before causing Jeongin to thrust deeper, he slows down and grips your hips fully pulling you into him. Burying his cock deep in your pussy he lets go of everything, he whines loudly and shakily, and you wonder if the neighbors can hear him. He doesn't stop thrusting knowing you're close. Seungmin pulls off you and starts stroking himself to allow himself to cum on your face and chest. Your mouth hangs open while he shoots his warm white cum all over your face and chest letting whatever you catch in your mouth, swallow back. Jeongin continues thrusting grabbing your arms to hold them behind and Seungmin reaches under you to circle your clit as you cry out, squirting all over the two of them. You both stay still, trying to catch your breathe. You look up at the monitor, your mask sloppily misaligned and the other two boys are about to pass out. You wave goodbye and say your thank yous turning the stream off. 

You crawl over to the bed reaching for your robe, trying to grip the bed to stand up but your legs give out. Jeongin stands up somewhat stable, lifting you up into his arms with is arms wrapped around your waist.

“ I have water in the shower for us, theres some.. water bottles in there.” You say tired as Jeongin sits you on the love seat in the corner. Seungmin is grabbing a towel from the dresser to layover the mess covering the floors.

Jeongin remerges with water in hand. Your throat is sore but you feel like your on cloud 9. No one says a word while you drink the water down.

“So uh… How was it?” You ask to break the silence.

“Better then I ever could have dreamed of. Would you… want to maybe do it again?” Seungmin is the first to speak, you feel yourself blushing. It felt so silly to blush after you just let them cum in/on you.

“ Oh uh.. Definetely… I don’t know about a threesome again. That was a lot of cardio for me” You giggle at the last part. Jeongin laughs, it was one he does when he was a little shy about compliments.

“Sorry for cumming in you, I wasn’t sure if i should but can I get you a Plan B or um,” Jeongin asks but you shake your head laughing.

“No worries here, I’m on the pill. Do you guys mind keeping this between us? I just wouldn’t want anyone at work to know if that’s okay?” You ask.

“Worried about Minho? Don’t worry he’s hopelessly in love with you but this stays between us… and maybe everyone who watched but who cares about those one’s.” Seungmin says reassuring you. 

You walk the two of them to the door and say your goodnights, you settle away in bed after a nice long bath, trying to relax any possibility of sore muscles. You’re drifting to sleep when you get a message.

hyjnny: hey babe, loved your live tonight. If you ever want to collaborate sometime let me know, think we might be pretty close. Check my page out, i think you’ll like what you see. Here’s my number if you want to meet up sometime xxx-xxx-xxxx

----

a/n: feeling a little rusty but i hope you all love this chapter, look forward the next one ;)

taglist (7/30): @skzooluvr @breadpuddingboys @weshhhhhhhhhhhhh @ihrtlix @complete-kpop-trash @strayzid @amara-mars

[natsgrave]

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE KNOWN | wanda maximoff

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now I see daylight, I only see daylight. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime! masterlist

AU

In the heart of a bustling city, amidst the clamor of everyday life, there was a small bookstore called "Whispering Pages." This quaint shop, with its creaky wooden floors and shelves overflowing with books, was a sanctuary for those seeking solace and understanding in the pages of stories. It was here that two souls, Y/N and Wanda, found each other and began a journey that would teach them the true meaning of love.

Wanda was a quiet, introspective woman with a penchant for losing herself in the worlds crafted by her favorite authors. Her days were spent managing the bookstore, and her nights were filled with the comfort of a good book. She was content in her solitude, finding companionship in the characters and stories she cherished.

Y/N, on the other hand, was a vibrant, outgoing woman with a zest for life that was contagious. A journalist by profession, she was always on the move, chasing stories and capturing moments. Despite her busy lifestyle, she had a deep appreciation for literature and often found herself wandering into "Whispering Pages" to escape the chaos of the outside world.

One rainy afternoon, as Wanda was engrossed in organizing a new shipment of books, Y/N entered the store, shaking off the droplets of rain from her coat. She walked to the counter, where Wanda was carefully arranging a display of classic novels.

"Excuse me," Y/N said, her voice warm and friendly. "Do you have any recommendations for a good read on a rainy day?"

Wanda looked up, momentarily startled by the sudden interruption. She saw a woman with kind eyes and an inviting smile, and despite her usual reserved nature, she found herself wanting to engage.

"Well," she began, her voice soft but steady, "it depends on what you're in the mood for. Do you have a particular genre in mind?"

Y/N leaned against the counter, considering her question. "I think I'm in the mood for something introspective, something that makes you reflect on life and love."

A smile tugged at the corners of Wanda's lips. "I think I have just the thing." She walked over to a nearby shelf, selecting a book with a worn cover and handing it to Y/N. "This is one of my favorites. It's a beautiful exploration of what it means to truly know and be known by another person."

Y/N took the book from her, their fingers brushing briefly. She glanced at the title and nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Wanda. This looks perfect."

Over the following months, Y/N became a regular visitor to the bookstore. Each visit brought with it a new conversation, a deeper connection. They discussed books, life, and their own hopes and dreams. Wanda found herself opening up to Y/N in a way she had never done with anyone before, and Y/N, in turn, shared parts of herself that she usually kept hidden.

One evening, as the sun began to set and the bookstore was bathed in a golden glow, Y/N approached Wanda with a sense of purpose. "Wanda, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. She had grown accustomed to their conversations, to the way Y/N made her feel seen and understood.

She nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I'd like that very much."

They walked to a nearby café, their conversation flowing as naturally as the evening breeze. As they sat across from each other, Y/N reached for Wanda's hand. "You know, Wanda, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to love someone. I used to believe that love was about grand gestures and passionate declarations, but you've shown me that it's about something much deeper."

Wanda squeezed her hand gently, her eyes meeting Y/N's. "What do you mean?"

"To love someone is to truly know them," Y/N said softly. "It's about understanding their fears, their dreams, their quirks. It's about seeing them for who they really are and accepting them wholeheartedly. And Wanda, you've made me realize that I've never known anyone the way I know you." She added, "You have a way of speaking that is uniquely on your own, a melody that dances in the air and lingers long after the words have faded. Your voice, soft and melodious, carries a warmth that can soothe even the most troubled soul. When you speaks, it's as if each word is carefully chosen, imbued with meaning and intention. Whether you're sharing a grand idea or simply recounting on your day, there's a sincerity in your tone that draws me in." Y/N started. "Your laughter is like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds on a gloomy day. It's infectious, a sound that bubbles up from deep within you and spills out in a cascade of joy. I love the way your eyes light up when you laughs, how they crinkle at the corners and sparkle with mirth. It's in those moments, when you're lost in laughter, that I see the purest, most unguarded version of you—a sight that never fails to make my heart swell with affection."

Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes as she listened to Y/N's words.

"One of the things I adore most about you, Wanda, is your kindness. It's not always in grand gestures, though you're certainly capable of those, but in the little things you do every day. I've seen you comfort a stranger who looked lost, offer a smile to someone who seemed down, and take the time to listen to a friend in need. Your empathy knows no bounds, and it's in these small acts of kindness that your true beauty shines." Y/N continued to ramble, "You also have this habit of tucking your hair behind your ear when you're deep in thought, a gesture so simple yet so endearing. I've watched you do it countless times, each instance a reminder of how intimately familiar I've become with your little quirks. And when you're excited about something, your whole face lights up." She stopped for a moment before gazing at Wanda's eyes, "But perhaps what I love most about you is your unwavering authenticity. You are unapologetically yourself, never trying to be anything other than who you are. It's a rare and precious quality, one that draws people and makes them feel comfortable in your presence. You have a way of making the people around you feel seen and valued, of creating a space where we can be our true self without fear of judgment."

"Y/N, I've always been afraid of letting people in, of being truly known. But with you, it feels different. It feels right." Wanda stated, tears in her eyes.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. "Wanda, you are the most incredible person I've ever met. And I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you even better, loving you for all that you are."

It's the small things, the details that might go unnoticed by others, that have woven Wanda into the fabric of Y/N's love for her. She is the embodiment of everything Y/N cherish, a constant source of joy and inspiration. To love Wanda is to know her, truly and deeply, and Y/N count herself incredibly fortunate to share this journey with Wanda.

Years passed, and "Whispering Pages" became more than just a bookstore; it became a testament to their love. Wanda and Y/N built a life together, filled with the understanding and acceptance that comes from truly knowing and being known by another person.

In every glance, every touch, every word, Y/N find new reasons to fall in love with Wanda all over again. She is her muse, her confidante, her greatest adventure. And as long as there are new things to discover about Wanda, Y/N know that her love for Wanda will only continue to grow, blossoming like the flowers she so adores, forever and always.

In the end, they realized that love wasn't about perfection or always having the right words. It was about being present, listening, and cherishing each other's hearts. And as they stood together, surrounded by the books that had brought them together, they knew that their love was a story worth telling, one that would endure for generations to come.

[rainylana]

“Just say that one day you will.”

Dad!Eddie Munson x mom!reader

summary: a short fic about eddie and reader as parents to patty munson:)

warnings: allusions to eddie having a “past life”, mentions of having self doubts as a parent. i think that’s it?? let me know if i missed anything!

He’s covered in food, spit up. Probably pee, too. His head hurts from his hair being pulled. His stomach aches from not having time to eat. He’s exhausted. He never realized how much you had taken on being a mother until you went back to work at the newspaper office. He didn’t know how you did. How flawless you made it look. Motherhood suited you, and as much as he loved his baby, he wasn’t sure if he looked as graceful handling it all like you did.

“Come on, baby, eat something for daddy, huh?” His voice is soft, eyes wide and whimsical, hoping he can trick his daughter into taking her bottle. “If you’re cranky when mommy gets home that means mommy will be cranky. Mommy’s scary when she’s cranky, yes she is.” His using his baby voice, putting the top of the bottle to little Patty Munson’s lips.

It’s clear to him that she’s not hungry, even though it’s past her time to eat. She’s refused to go down for a nap, crying every time he’s put her down or left the room to use the bathroom. Eddie sighs, putting down the bottle on the table and leaning back into the couch. He holds her on his lap, the seventh month old staying upright by his arms. She smiles, making him laugh.

“Yeah, you think it’s funny watching me struggle, huh?” He wiggles his brows at her. “You just want held, don’t ya?”

Patty was going through another one of her phases where she couldn’t be alone, never wanting to be without mom or dad. She always needed to be in their arms, preferably mommy’s. “Well, I don’t have a problem with that.” He lifts her up and gives her a kiss on the nose.

She’s the carbon copy of him. Dark curls and brown eyes, pale skin and a birthmark on her right shoulder, same place as her dad’s. He worries one day she’ll be just like him. His older now, and when he looked back on his childhood, he felt guilty for worrying Wayne the way he did. He hoped he could raise his daughter to have more sense than he did growing up.

When five o’clock rolled around, Eddie had managed to get the house moderately straightened up. It was difficult with a baby attached to his hip. The dishes were done and the bed was made. Halfway through he had put her in the playpen, only to take her out when she had a meltdown. He nearly broke his neck running back to her.

“Oh, baby.” He nearly fell to his knees when you walked through the door.

“How’s my baby!” You smiled, running to lift your daughter from his arms. She was flailing her little limbs, squealing and laughing joyfully at the sight of you.

“I’m okay.” Eddie’s arm relaxes from the absent weight, the numbness running down his arm that he tries to shake out. “A little tired.”

You laugh at him, giving kiss after kiss to Patty’s cheeks. She’s giggling, drooling all over her red and white dress that was covered in food stains.

“Hi, baby.” You smile and turn toward him, kissing his cheek lovingly. “Rough day?”

“What makes you say that?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “House is still standing, isn’t it?”

You sit on the couch, holding Patty on your lap. Eddie sits down beside you, relaxing into the couch cushions.

You smile affectionately, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Honey, are you sure you’re able to do this? I can take off work for a few more weeks if you need me to.”

“No, no, I’ve got it, babe.” He puts his other hand over yours. “I do. Promise. You did your part. Carried her for nine months and spent another six taking care of her. You need a social life to, y/n. It’s time I do my part.” He smiled at you lovingly, meaningfully.

“We’re finally at a place where money isn’t a problem,” He continues. “I want you to be happy and have a job you love. I don’t mind taking off work for awhile. Wayne and Gareth got the Job okay.”

Your emotions are flooding through you, causing you to get choked up inside. You sigh, laying your cheek on the dark curls of Patty’s head. “I am happy, Eddie. You have no idea how happy I am.”

He always chuckled when you said that, because he did. Eyes flickering between his now sleeping baby, cuddled into your chest, he rolls his eyes. “Now, she wants to sleep. I’ve been trying to get her to nap all day!”

You pat her back and smile happily, kissing the top of her head. “God, I love her so much.” You say quietly. “Isn’t it crazy? Loving her as much as you do? Sometimes I think my hearts going to explode.”

He never knew he could love someone as much as his daughter. When he met you, he never thought his love could go any further than that, but it was like his heart grew and made room for the both of you. It connected you, having Patty together. It made you closer than you could’ve ever imagined.

“I know what you mean.” His fingers squeeze her socked foot. “Sometimes I lay awake at night and just worry about all the things that could happen. I think that’s why I’m tired all the time.” He chuckles softly.

You understood that, too, nodding as you lean back into the couch pillow. He moved over to you, careful to not wake up Patty, and lays his head against your shoulder. “Thank you for giving me this life. I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Yes, you do.” You blink tiredly, looking down at his bushel of curls. “You deserve happiness, Eddie. I wish you believed me.”

He truly believed he didn’t. Though he was not the same man he once was, he had gone through his life a thief and cheating man, a liar and a conman. The things he had done haunted him at night, but you assured him he had done the things he needed to do to survive.

“One day,” He looks up at you, nose barely an inch apart. “I’ll make you my wife.”

You start to blush, eyes prickling at the sides. God, you were so happy. “Really?”

“Just say that one day you will be.” He whispers, glancing at your lips briefly. “Promise me you’ll be my wife.”

You sniffle and choke on a sob, smiling at him through your lashes. “I promise.”

[iamumbra195]

Ashlyn Spider-woman AUs are genuinely so funny because this girl would hate it so much.

She already has to deal with sensitive hearing now she has to worry about super strength, spider senses and sticky hands that only relax when she's calm which is like never because how on Earth is she supposed to calm down when she can punch through walls without breaking her arms and can practically sense everything within a mile-radius?!

The sensory overload would be painful as hell too.

If it was set in the canon universe, I think she'd tell her parents and they would all work together to figure out her powers. They'd probably use all the junk in the bus graveyard to gauge how much she could carry and how strong she was overall.

Over time, she'd probably get used to her powers, maybe even find some of them fun. Sticking to the ceiling and just chilling there for hours without all the blood rushing to her head was kinda nice and seeing her dad's reaction to her sticking to the ceiling for the first was entertaining. Plus, the powers made her even more flexible and she's into ballet. This girl would love being able to jump super high.

But she only really uses her powers at home where she feels like she doesn't need to hide it anymore. I don't think she'd feel the need to ever become a spider-woman. They'd managed just fine without her before and Alto was a pretty boring town. She wasn't a superhero anyway. I don't think her parents would ever want her to put herself in danger like that either. Plus, they don't their daughter to get attention from any unsavoury people or the government. They were both in the military after all. They knew how corrupt and messed up the government could be and they didn't want Ashlyn anywhere near it.

But then the new school year starts and there's a weird new kid that makes her senses prickle with unease. In fact, almost everything about her first day back at school makes her uneasy. The new kid. The shoe that almost took her head off. The new teacher. The field trip. The new kid.

Aiden just won't leave her alone and it was irritating. He was loud and talked too much as well. Still, her dad wanted her to give it a shot and it couldn't be that bad. It was just a field trip, she'd been to plenty of those.

Although the last field trip she went on was the reason she ended up with her superpowers... She really didn't want to go. Especially with Aiden constantly pestering her about it. Agreeing to go felt like losing. Urgh.

She ends up going and at first, it's not bad. All until a woman offers to give them a free tour of a 'haunted' house. Ashlyn doesn't want to go. Something about the whole situation was making her uneasy. But the others all wanted to go so she went with them. The uneasy feeling along with the phantom noises that kept getting louder made it even worse, sweat collecting in her palms and the urge to flee only getting stronger.

So when she sees that creature and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, she doesn't catch her reaction fast enough, hastily taking a few steps back.

"Ash?" Aiden said and there was a hint of concern in his voice. The others were all staring at her with varying looks on their faces, from concern to irritation. It wasn't real. She needed to calm down. It was just a hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

But what if it was, the paranoid voice in her mind whispered. She had superpowers, who's to say that demons or ghosts couldn't be real?

She shook the thought away, tearing her eyes away from the creature and taking a deep breath before turning back to her classmates. She was being ridiculous. "Sorry, I thought I saw some-"

She was paralyzed in place when she saw them staring past her with terrified expressions, senses blaring with warning as a cold, slippery hand wrapped around her arm.

It was real.

And it was right behind her.

[nightgoodomens]

Long-time listener, first-time caller. Thanks for all my dopamine! :D

Thinking about when the whole Sheen/Tennant saga started, there was a moment during the ITV’s This Morning show broadcast in May 2019 that has never really left my mind.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wP5fNffgE4&t=44s

Throughout the whole interview Michael seems to be openly flirting with David who responds with sheepish smiles. “I certainly love him, does he love me?” asks Michael looking into his eyes. “Oh, he wouldn’t possibly comment on that… that would be far too demonstrative for him” responds David stumbling over his words.  He is not the laid-back David we are used to now. The whole dynamic seems new to him, he seems to be at the stage of getting used to the feral Sheen.

There is a moment (at 3:39 mark) when Michael turns to David and (after looking him up and down) in a low, suggestive voice says: “Now that I've had a TASTE of working with David, I only want to work with David”. There is a big stress on the word “taste”, he even says it a bit louder as if he wanted to make sure everyone heard him but also that no one missed the very obvious subtext of that entire sentence. He also looks right at David's lips when he says it. Ok, I know we are all well aware how Michael has always been, even before the "David era" – he does like his double entendres.

But.

Look closely at David’s reaction – his eyes get visibly bigger and there is a quick, deep inhale – you can see his entire chest moving (you can see it really well in slow motion) followed by a quick startled look to the side and exhaling through his lips close together. He genuinely looks flustered as if Michael was revealing something he shouldn’t be at this moment. I can almost hear him thinking “Oh god, I can’t believe he just said that”.

 The show host perhaps notices David’s reaction as well because she cuts off Michael quickly asking another question. So quickly indeed that Michael didn’t even get to finish that sentence. On top of that, as soon as she starts asking her question (with Michael still talking!) David blurts out a panicky high-pitched “yeah!” as if desperately trying to quickly take away all the attention from what Michael had just said.

For me that was always one of the biggest reasons why I suspected something more might be going on between them. It is very, very subtle but for me that is exactly why it’s so powerful – David’s reaction.

Do you see what I see?

Did they just start something more back then in May 2019? Were they very close to doing so? Is it all just a “joke”?

Answers on the postcard, please. :)

You’re very welcome! 😁

Gosh this interview…

But does he love me…?

I think at the very least some crushes happened as early as BYT if not hooking up. David never hid that Michael has been on his mind ever since. Their stories about the days before BYT seem to change with time. It would make sense if GO just threw them back together and they were hit with those feelings again hence the intensity of them.

Or there was more. Way more than just crushes from the beginning. David did want to move to LA…

What we can be sure of is that Michael wanted to tell everyone how much he’s in love with David from the moment they got together at GO1. He had zero control of the way he was looking at David and talking about him. And that never changed. And David was so very careful because you can see he knew exactly what Michael was saying every time Michael slipped and nervously tried to fix it.

And to think that now, in 2024, David is full on feral not hiding anything, and Michael is talking about his queer struggles in the 80s, his first crush who was a man and how he processed it, and basically talking about David like they’re together and everyone knows.

Damn.

[spade-riddles]

I know that all different pockets of taylor’s fanbase have their own rationalisations for why she’s talking about other people in BDILH, and not themselves. since we’re a comparatively self-reflective corner of her fanbase, I’m seeing a lot of anxiety about this, a few anons asking if we’re the bad guys. but this string of logic might help:

the mainstream explanation of BDILH is that it’s about matty and all the people who were freaked out by taylor ‘dating’ him. that’s kind of the only possible explanation for most swifties who ride or die believe her PR, as well as casual listeners and the general public. she put the song out knowing this.

with that in mind, think about the kind of people who were angry about her parading matty around. was it pearl-clutching religious conservatives? hell no! in fact it was the opposite. it was progressive-minded people who took issue with his racist and generally ‘problematic’ behaviour. he’s not just some edgy looking wild guy with a heart of gold that religious people judge too harshly because they’re prudish bigots, that’s a pretty weird way for taylor to characterise him and the backlash against him. in fact it’s pretty dismissive of the actual issues at hand.

so if we’re wrong and taylor is straight and the PR is real, you have to believe some not-great things about taylor’s character.

this kind of illogical flip of the situation seems to be working on swifties, who hear ‘but I love him!’ and respond with, okay he’s worth it then, do what you want queen. then they think of themselves as the good guys for supporting her and get to keep their heads in the sand.

but I’ve seen casual listeners notice how unconvincing this is and say wow what a load of shit, taylor’s equating the concerns held by progressive fans with conservative oppression. it’s like saying having a problem with bigotry (matty’s racism etc) IS in itself a kind of bigotry against her and matty. even if it’s a loose metaphor using a small town setting, it’s still very politically tone deaf.

to make this song make sense, you have to conclude that she’s either 1. straight and completely politically illiterate. 2. straight and willing to appropriate the struggle of love under religious oppression in order to look like the victim and rehabilitate her image after dating a racist. or 3. she has actually experienced religious / conservative oppression for who she loves, and she’s not actually talking about matty.

I think if you’re here you’ve seen enough to be capable of believing it’s number 3. I think the confusion comes because if she’s suddenly being so defiant , why is she still hiding while doing it? still playing both sides and letting people think matty has anything to do with the powerful anti-bigotry sentiment in this song? but it makes sense to me considering how many times we’ve been told this she’s carefully orchestrating everything so she can protect her true family, she’s using partial cover that helps her become gradually more and more bold.

In the meantime, don’t beat yourselves up about it, we definitely have the most kind and flattering take on this song and what it says about taylor as a person! I don’t think sycophantic swifties who believe the PR can honestly say the same.

[mustainegf]

I seen you wanted some Kirk reqs so here you go!

How about a fluff? Idk/smut rtl era Kirk x Fem reader!

Maybe they were at a party and while they were there Kirk and her get into an argument, so they leave and drive home in silence and like talk it out or whatever and then things just go further!

I’m sorry if this is hard to understand! I’m not really good at explaining things so if you want to write it just be creative!!

I LOVVVEEE SPECIFIC REQUESTS LIKE THIS!!

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There he was, chatting and laughing with another woman at the party, completely ignoring me. My heart sank as I watched them exchange flirtatious glances. Anger bubbled up inside me, and before I could stop myself, I stormed over to confront him.

With a tense smile plastered on my face, I made my way through the crowd, trying to keep my composure. I could feel the eyes of the other guests on me, their curious glances adding to my frustration. As I reached Kirk, I grabbed his arm firmly, my nails digging into his skin.

"Kirk, we need to talk. Now," I said through gritted teeth, shooting a strained look at the woman he had been talking to.

She seemed to sense the tension between us and excused herself, shooting Kirk a flirtatious smile before walking away.

I led Kirk to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes and nosy ears. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel my hands trembling with anger and hurt. I turned to face him, my expression stern and accusing.

“What the hell was that?" I demanded, my voice low but filled with fury. "You were practically drooling over that girl while I stood there like an idiot."

Kirk's expression shifted from surprise to defensiveness as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not what you think, babe," he said, his voice tinged with irritation. "She's just a friend from work. We were just catching up."

I scoffed incredulously, shaking my head in disbelief. "Oh, please. Spare me the bullshit, Hammett," I spat, my eyes blazing with anger. "I saw the way you were looking at her, the way you were flirting with her. Don't you dare try to deny it."

Kirk's jaw clenched as he took a step closer to me, his own anger flaring. "You're overreacting, as usual," he snapped, his voice laced with condescension. "I can't help it if other women find me attractive. It's not like I'm into them."

"So, that's it, then? You think it's perfectly fine to flirt with other women right in front of me?" I accused, my voice trembling with emotion. "Is this how little our relationship means to you?"

Kirk's expression softened slightly at the sight of my tears, but his resolve remained unchanged. "Of course, our relationship means everything to me, but you need to stop being so insecure," he said, his tone patronizing. "I love you, but I can't be held responsible for your jealousy."

After a moment of tense silence, I finally spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to go home," I said, my words dripping with exhaustion and defeat.

Kirk let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in resignation. With a nod, he reached for my hand. We wordlessly made our way out of the party, the cool night air doing little to ease the tension between us.

The car ride home was filled with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sound of our heavy breathing.

I stared out the window, my mind racing with thoughts and emotions that I couldn't begin to untangle.

As we pulled into the driveway, I braced myself for what was to come.

As Kirk parked the car, we both sat there in silence for a moment.

Without a word, Kirk reached out to take my hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

Silently, we made our way inside the house and up to our bedroom, the tension between us growing with each step we took.

Once inside, Kirk closed the door behind us, enveloping us in a cocoon of privacy. I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his eyes for some sign of understanding.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said softly, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I messed up, and I didn’t see it in the moment."

I nodded, feeling a rush of emotion welling up inside me. "I know," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it still hurt, Kirk. It hurt a lot."

Kirk stepped closer to me, his gaze intense as he reached out to cup my face in his hands. "I know," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

I could feel the tension between us reaching a breaking point, the desire and longing that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over.

And as Kirk's lips met mine in a hungry kiss, I felt myself surrendering to the heat and passion that consumed us both.

“I’ll Show you… just how much you mean to me,” he growled between kisses.

I hummed into his lips as we inches closer to the bed.

"I would never even think of doing to another girl what I'm about to do to you right now," Kirk nipped at my lips as he pushed me over the bed, climbing overtop of me.

His eyes were dark and intense as they raked down my body before landing on my chest.

Kirk tore my shirt off, pulling my bra along with it.

"Kirk..." I moaned softly. I wondered if makeup sex was the way to go about this, but I couldn't help but want it so bad.

I wanted him to claim me like he always did when he took me roughly, because it meant something more than just lust or physical gratification. It meant something bigger, something deeper.

It meant we weren't afraid to show one another our weaknesses, and that I meant something to him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispered, staring deep into my eyes.

I felt his cock twitch against my thigh. He was hard, ready, and eager for me. "I want you to look in the mirror while I make you come. And then, I want you to tell me what you see."

Kirk got into bed with me, sitting me up on my hands and knees. I stared helplessly at myself in the mirror on the end of our bed.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw my reflection.

There was a hunger in my eyes, a feeling only he could satisty.

I shivered as he stripped me of the rest of my clothes, leaving me bare for him.

"I see you... and I see me." Kirk smirked. "You are the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on. I want you to look at yourself and tell me what you see." I looked back at my reflection and sucked in a breath.

I knew what he wanted me to say, he wanted me to say I saw the most beautiful girl staring back at me.

But the truth was all I could see was me, and the sexy man we ran his hands over my body.

"Tell me what you see," he ordered. "I see... me." I smiled, looking back at him. He raised a brow, wanting me to elaborate. "You know what I see?" He whispered.

I shook my head, waiting for him to finish.

"I see the most beautiful woman in the world," he said softly, trailing his hand down my back. "Who deserves everything... everything from me."

My stomach felt warm at his words, Kirk had a way with speaking, to me in particular.

I could hear him unzip his jeans, I was aching for him.

I watched in the mirror as he smirked, no clothes, his hands gripping my thighs and ass.

"What else do you see?" he asked again. The question seemed silly, but I wanted to please him.

So, I tried to really take a good look at my reflection. At first, all I saw was me.

"Tell me, I wanna hear it, then you can have it..." He said slowly, rubbing his length down my soaking slit.

He was teasing me, but I loved it. He continued to stroke himself along my clit, while I sat there trying to think of what I saw. "I see the most beautiful woman in the world." Even if I didn't completely believe it, I wanted to say whatever he wanted to hear.

If it made him happy, I was happy. "What else do you see?" I swallowed. "I don't know... I guess I see a girl who is scared, but also brave. She has scars, but she's still pretty..."the words felt extremely foreign to me.

Kirk smiled, kissing up my back. "Good job, you couldn't be more right baby..." he whispered, pushing the head of his cock into me.

"Kirk!" I wailed at the intrusion.

"That's it, just look in the mirror, look at yourself while I fuck you," he commanded, running his hand down the small of my back as he thrusted.

I did as he asked, watched as I jerked with every pump into me. "Fuck, you're so perfect." Kirk whined.

He leaned forward pressing his chest on my back, his hands finding my bouncing breasts. "Kirk, right there..."

"I love you so much, baby.." he mumbled between kisses pressing to my shoulder.

My knees and arms were beginning to shake, I slcould hardly hold myself up with all this pleasure, and I wanted to me closer to him.

I glanced up at our reflection, staring at Kirk. His soft face was contorted in pleasure, his moustache quirked just slightly, his long curls bouncing as he pumped. "Kirk, I can't hold myself." I panted.

"I've got you," he whispered, quickly pulling out and turning me over to lay on my back.

He kneeled over me, bracing his forearms on either side of my head, leaning down to kiss me deeply as he filled me again. I screamed out, holding his face tight against mine.

"God yes! That's it!" I gasped. Kirk began moving faster, harder, and deeper until I was crying out in ecstasy.

I could hear the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, the hard thrusts, the grunts, and groans, and the heavy breathing that followed.

Kirk lifted his hips still driving into me.

His body glistening with sweat. He kept his eyes on me, watching as I came apart underneath him. "I love you, I love you..." he moaned.

"Harder, Baby..." I breathed, out foreheads pressing together as I stroked his cheek.

Kirk fucked me relentlessly, I could hardly take it any more.

"Kirk!" I wailed as my orgasm built up inside of me.

"Yes, baby, yes, come for me," he encouraged, moving his hips even faster. I let out a scream, rocking my hips in time with him as I exploded around his cock.

I could feel him twitching, the ripples hitting deep inside of me. He stayed buried deep inside me, holding me tightly as he too climaxed.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, kissing me hard on the mouth. I smiled, feeling safe in his arms. We laid there for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.

After a bit, I looked up at him, and he flashed me one of those smiles that always makes my heart skip a beat. "You know I mean it right?" he asked, brushing the hair off my face. I nodded, running my fingers through his curls.

"Hey, I'm sorry about tonight," he whispered as I felt him softening in me.

"It's okay. I love you Kirk," I smiled up at him. The dork who I'd fell in love with.

Who made me laugh, made me smile, and made me feel safe. He loved me just the way I was, and that was enough for me. "I know," he giggled, giving me a small peck on the lips. "I love you too."