#but he actually DID use the correct pronouns at the end

[lopez-richter-fangirl]

Appreciation post for how good a job Joey did as host of the great debate

[rottingcompost]

it's been 5 years since i graduated and i'm still haunted by a shitty soundcloud rap an ex friend made about me. not because anyone else knows about it, but because it was extremely cursed and cringy to the point where i would sacrifice a goat or some shit if it meant i could forget its existence

[idkwhatever580]

I’ll cut your f****** balls off!

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: y/n gets mad when Bruce “accidentally” ends up with his face in Natasha’s boobs 🤨

Warnings: cursing, Bruce slander, jealousy, boobies, fight scene, y/n is more than a bit angry, soft/sensitive y/n at the end

A/N: I legit wish I was him. But I was a little too nice to him in Are you mad? So I decided to throw out some hate. Not proofread 😬

——————————————

Y/n’s pov

I am watching Natasha pour herself a drink from the couch I’m sitting at with a smile on my face. When I see Bruce creep up to the bar to talk to Natasha.

I squint my eyes at his awkward stance and decide that there’s no harm in listening in on their conversation. So I perk up on my super hearing and zone into their words.

“How’d a nice girl like you end up working at a dump like this?”

“Fella done me wrong”

I furrow my eyebrows at Natasha’s words. I know she doesn’t really know how to handle situations like this other than flirting since she was trained to do that, but it still makes me feel uneasy since we’ve been dating for a while now. I also didn’t think I did anything wrong.

“Got a lousy taste in men kid”

“They’re not so bad”

I hope she’s just joking, but what did I do to wrong her if she’s not? Also why is she not correcting him on my pronouns if she’s talking about me?

“Well they have a temper, deep down they’re all fluff. The fact is they’re not like anybody I’ve ever known.”

A look of confusion falls upon my face when I hear this. I can’t tell if she’s talking about me or Bruce. I want to assume it’s me but the way they’re ogling each other makes me doubt myself. I keep looking at the ground.

They talk a bit more and I keep listening.

“They sound amazing”

“They’re also a huge dork.”

I haven’t actually given them many looks during their conversation in fear that they’ll see me. But I look over at this point and I tilt my head. Then she adds.

“Chicks dig that”

And I’m angry.

Is she really talking about him? Maybe she’s trying to be nice and still doesn’t know how to. Maybe she doesn’t realize she’s flirting hardcore.

I snap out of my thoughts and they are still talking

“Did he- were they- what did they do that was so… wrong to you?”

“Not a damn thing… but never say never”

I huff at her words and I watch as she walks over to me and sits down. She looks at me and I fix my face before she can tell I’m mad.

I’m gonna brush it aside and see if she tells me anything.

“What were you and Bruce talking about?”

I say with the most composed voice I can. She smiles and says

“I was talking about you. I don’t think he knows about us”

She smiles and I smile back and say

“Really? We’ve been dating for what? Six months now? And most everybody has found out.”

She shrugs her shoulders and says

“I think he was thinking of Cho when I was talking. I was like “chicks dig dorks” and he is a dork and I’m sure Cho likes him.”

I take a steady breath and nod my head. I grab Natasha’s drink and take a sip of it

“Hey! that’s mine!”

I give it back and say

“Sorry. I wanted to try it.”

It’s getting to the end of the party everyone is gone except the rest of the avengers and a stray drunk man that probably had some of Thor’s asgardian liquor.

The boys are trying to lift Thor’s hammer and Natasha has moved to my side. I look down at my dress and smooth out some of the wrinkles.

When suddenly this beat up robot comes out and starts talking all this crap. Everyone is on edge and suddenly he says he’s on a mission

“Peace in our time”

And then a bunch of Tony’s robots come flying out. Everyone scatters and I run behind the bar to grab the gun from it when Natasha jumps over and lands on her back

“Nat”

I try to go to her but then Bruce ends up on the bar.

Dumbass

Natasha pulls him off of the bar and he lands right on top of her.

His face is in her boobs and the impact makes Nat let out a loud choked groan. I narrow my eyes at him as he apologizes and she says

“Don’t turn green”

He says

“I won’t” and I grab one of the guns and she grabs the other.

She starts shooting and I wait and she looks at me and I nod my head towards the stairs and she tells Bruce to come with her.

I stay at the bar and wait for an opening to hit the robot.

I shoot it a couple times but this fucking gun doesn’t have as many rounds as Nat’s. So I wait a second and yell at cap to throw my his shield.

He throws it and I grab it doing a spin maneuver and throw it right at the robot slicing it clean in half.

This Ultron dude keeps yapping on and on about peace and whatever until Thor throws his hammer.

I don’t care right now. I am seething with how Bruce thinks he can do that to my girl.

Everyone tries to collect themselves making sure nobody is hurt but I march over to Bruce and Natasha and I start yelling

“You fucking cunt!”

Natasha gets in between us before I can hit him and she says

“Woah woah woah hold on babe what’s going on”

But I ignore her

“You think you can have her?! She’s mine you bitch!”

Everyone is worried about how I’m being kinda crazy so they circle around us and make sure I can’t get to Bruce. And he says

“Did you not just see what happened?! And you’re worried about me liking her?”

I huff and say

“I don’t give a fuck what just happened! You know what just happened?! You shoved your face in my girls tits! That’s what happened!”

He is actually scared of me and Tony is behind him saying

“Don’t turn green please”

For once he keeps his composure and says

“I didn’t mean to! She was pulling me down from getting shot!”

I get angrier and say

“So you’re gonna say it’s an accident? Don’t act like I didn’t hear your conversation earlier! I heard how you want her! If you ever touch her again I’ll cut your fucking balls off! You hear me?!”

Natasha ends up picking me up and carrying me to our room. She tells Tony

“I gotta get her away from him. When she’s calm we’ll come back to help. Just worry about ultron and Bruce.”

He nods his head as they all disperse. Natasha carries me to our room and then plops me down on the ground and says

“What the fuck y/n?! What the hell was that?!”

I look at the ground while my breathing is a bit erratic. I don’t say anything as I avoid eye contact with her.

She realizes I’m shutting down and to combat that she brings me over to the bed and makes me sit down. I look at my hands that are now in my lap and she sits down on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck.

As she plays with my hair she says

“Baby, can you please tell me what’s going on? Why are you so worked up over Bruce?”

I huff and say

“I heard what you said! You were totally talking about him and then he went and shoved his face in your boobs. That’s only my thing to do.”

She sighs and keeps asking knowing there’s more to it.

“Baby, what else?”

I stay silent for a bit and she squeezes my shoulder in reassurance and I crack. I immediately start crying and saying

“Please don’t leave me I love you. I don’t want you to leave me. Please don’t go! I love you!”

She pulls me in and rubs my back. Then she maneuvers us so that I am now straddling her lap.

Usually I act all tough when we’re around others but I am a baby around Natasha. She just brings the soft side out in me.

She rubs my back and shushes my crying and says

“Oh baby, I’m not leaving you. I love you too.”

My sons turn into more silent tears and she pulls me away from her neck. I whine a bit but she clicks her tongue and I quiet up. She makes me look into her eyes and says

“Listen to me okay?”

I nod my head and sniffle

“I am not leaving you for Bruce. I am not leaving you for anyone. I love you so so much and I don’t ever want to leave you okay?”

I nod my head and she continues

“Now that I’ve said that, I want to say that I was not talking about Bruce when I was talking to him. He had come up to me and said how he feels like he can’t talk to girls. He likes Cho, and he asked if he could practice being smooth or whatever with me. So I said yes not knowing you were being hurt by that. If I knew you’d be hurt I would have never done it.”

She pauses and I nod my head so she continues

“So yes I was flirting with him but it was fake and he was just trying to be cool for Cho okay?”

I look down and nod my head then she lifts my head back up by my chin and says

“I’m so sorry. I can see how that got mistranslated from across the room. Will you please forgive me?”

I nod my head and say

“I was never mad at you.”

She smiles and kisses my pout into a smile and when she pulls away I whine a bit in protest. I try to get another kiss but she says

“None of that detka. We have a big matter to handle then we can make out at much as you want okay?”

I nod my head and get up to go downstairs but she grabs my wrist and says

“Let’s get changed”

So she changes into a tank top and shorts and I change into a baggy shirt and shorts. Then Natasha says

“When we go downstairs, you’re gonna apologize to Bruce and then we’re gonna figure this ultron stuff out okay?”

I roll my eyes and nod my head but Natasha doesn’t like when I roll my eyes so she smacks my butt a bit and says

“Don’t roll your eyes at me”

I look down and say

“Sorry. I’ll apologize to Bruce”

She smiles and gives me a peck on the cheek.

We head downstairs and I go into the lab.

“Hey, um Bruce?”

He looks up and immediately is scared and he backs away, so u throw my hands up in surrender and say

“I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I let jealousy overtake me and I got a little scared that Natasha and you liked each other. I didn’t know you like Cho. So I just wanted to apologize and say I’m not gonna cut your balls off”

He chuckles and says

“Uh it’s okay. Thanks for not murdering me”

He scratches the back of his head and I nod and go to leave but I pause and say

“You and Cho would go good together. I also think she likes you back so you should go for her after all this is over.”

He smiles and thanks me and I leave.

I walk into the hallway and Natasha is waiting for me there. I go to her and hug her but instead of a normal hug I shove my face in her boobs.

She laughs at my possessiveness and says

“You good there?”

I nod my head and say

“Mine”

But it is muffled since, of course, my face is literally in her boobs. And she chuckles and pats my head softly before rubbing it and says

“Yes. All yours.”

Once I am satisfied we go into our office and start working to figure out the ultron shit.

I look over at Natasha and say

“I’ll still cut his balls of if he touches you wrong again, or anyone’s for that matter”

She laughs and pats my head before saying

“I’m sure you will baby. I’m sure you will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I didn’t want to make Bruce the real bad guy. Oh no 😥 I’m going soft. A few years ago I would have never been nice about him. I hope you liked it!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Oral Support - Ghost x Reader [M]

Summary: A disastrous brush with auto-correct leads you down a path you had only ever dreamed of walking.

Notes: 18+, Implications of smut, actual smut, graphic descriptions of smut, no use of pronouns for Reader except for ‘you’, fluffy towards the end of both parts (separated by - ), Reader over-thinks (don’t we all?), oral (male receiving), a bit of angst at the beginning of part 2 (Parts 1 and 2 separated by the - ), mentions of pain, graphic description of smut, fluff at the end, (Y/N) is a little awkward at first, (Y/N) is inexperienced, (Y/N) also gets anxious, nervous knuckle cracking, pet name used.

Wordcount: 4,897 words

The fact that you’d managed to get as close to Ghost as you had was in itself miraculous. Well, ‘close’ being an exaggeration; immediate acquaintances, at the least. Friends, at the most. Regardless, it had come with its many obstacles.

Such as now, after your inquiry about Ghost’s day, which you’d hoped to be benign, which was met with a simple: Alright.

Oh god, the dreaded full stop.

Your heart spiked, your back was up. Your micro-analysis began.

He doesn’t usually end sentences with a full stop - he thinks they’re a waste of time. Is he mad at me? Did someone steal his phone and impersonate him? Is he okay?-

You heaved a sigh. Told yourself to calm down.

It’s fine, you’re fine, he’s fine. Stop over-thinking everything.

But alas, that is what we are all victims to when in the throws of a crush.

The word had crossed your mind every now and again, dancing between your synapses like a demon in a church. It made you cringe, made you feel juvenile. Inferior. But you couldn’t deny it. In spite of its childish connotations, it was what you were experiencing.

You had a crush on Ghost.

Absolutely ludicrous is what you’d called it when you were alone. Totally and unequivocally baseless. You hadn’t even seen his face, nor did you know his name. You just knew that you liked him. And you’d hoped that somehow, somewhen, he’d grow to tolerate you, too. And that hope was being steadily fed by Soap, who’d reassured you during your sleep-deprived, delirious ramblings (of which you remember little) that “Getting Ghost’s number is a good sign,” and that it meant he “at the very least acknowledges you.”

Better than nothing,you’d convinced yourself. Better to be acquaintances than strangers.

You knew not to press the issue. You knew when to stop. But you just wanted to make extra, doubly sure.

Positive?

You hoped he’d understood your message. Hoped it hadn’t been too vague. Your phone pinged. He always managed to get back to you quick enough, you’d noted - something Soap had brought to your attention, too.

Yeah.

Okay, you told yourself. Enough stress. Time for bed.

You were about to put your phone down. Just about to. Then, a brilliant idea flashed in your mind.

You opened the message board again and began typing.

I’m here for moral support if you want it

Perfect, you told yourself. Not pressuring him to open up but making yourself available to him. Brilliant.

You sent the message, put the phone away, and turned in.

But something crossed your mind just as sleep caught up with you. It was a nagging feeling, the same twinge of anxiety one gets when they wonder if they’ve locked their front door or taken their chicken out to defrost overnight.

It made you uncomfortable. You shifted, hoping a change of position would make it go away.

It didn’t.

You turned to lay on your back, huffed, and looked up at the ceiling, as if the answer lay there.

What is it? you asked yourself. What could it possibly be?

You ran through your day, brushing over everything you’d done, anything you may have missed. Right up until you turned over on your side and tried to get some sleep.

And then it came to you. An intrusive thought, a message from God, a monster lunging out from a closet. It held your heart in its icy grip. Sitting bolt upright, you tore your phone from your nightstand and opened your message board with Ghost.

I’m here for oral support if you want it

How?! you screamed within. How could I have misspelled-

Auto-correct. Of course.

Even worse, Ghost had read it and said nothing.

You were on damage control immediately, putting all PR managers everywhere to shame.

*moral support

I meant moral support.

The full stop and calmness with which you communicated belied the storm that brewed in your mind. You tried to counteract it, asking yourself what the worst he could think or do was. That made it worse, your brain taking you down dark alleys and avenues of a lonely future, forcing you to shake hands with your own doom.

Eyes bleary with sleep and panic, you scarcely noticed that Ghost had replied, the only indication being your phone vibrating.

You scoured the screen, breaking your anxious haze and analysing his message.

Is that offer revoked?

The image - the intrusive image- of the implication of Ghost’s message flashed behind your eyes, blinding you. Your phone dropped onto your covers.

You stifled a scream.

What do I do? you thought. Who do I call?

You considered your best friend, but that was’t an option. Asleep, most likely. It was 2 AM. Their answer wouldn’t come quick enough.

Okay, Y/N, you can do this! Channel the energy of someone who knows what they’re doing.

You began typing.

Not if you want it ;-)

You’d accidentally channeled the energy of someone who had a good track record of flirting. Or, at least, you hoped.

Ghost began typing. Your heart pounded.

I’ll be back in a few days. Be ready for me.

Your heart seized. You screamed.

It worked! It’d actually worked! Auto-correct and your aimless flirting had done it!

Then, the excitement snapped off, a twig from a tree. Realisation dawned on you.

You only had a few days to perfect your technique. Now you really did need to call your best friend. I’ll do it tomorrow, you told yourself, and resisting the urge to message Ghost a plethora of excited nonsense, you took a shaky breath and lowered your phone to your side.

Somewhere amongst your newfound, delighted anxiety lay excitement, the hope that this accident, this interaction, could lead to something more. You smiled widely, the scene of you and Ghost, unmasked, on a date playing behind your eyelids, a projection of the future.

-

For lack of a better term, Ghost had ghosted you. After your interaction days before, you’d seen (or heard) neither hide nor hair of him; not from the boys, and certainly not from Ghost himself. Thus, here you were, knee bouncing as you perched on the edge of your sofa, mind racing with the ever-looming threat of rejection.

Maybe he was joking, you thought. Maybe he saw it as a throwaway flirtation and nothing more, maybe- maybe-

You didn’t want to cry. You really, really didn’t want to, but there was something about the possibility, the mere indication, of rejection - silent rejection at that - that made you want to choke up and shed a tear.

Get over yourself, it’s not like you had a chance anyway.

A cruel smile crossed your face. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing lost. Or gained.

With creaking knees, you stood, a shred of a laugh at your absurd attempts to impress Ghost slithering up your throat. The taste of mint slathered on your tongue reminded you of the nigh ritualistic self-care you’d inflicted on yourself these last few days. All just for him.

Sighing, you glanced about your spotless, soulless apartment, any indication of idiosyncrasy shoved under your bed or into the boiler cupboard. After inviting your friend round for a pity party - the same friend who had rigorously instructed you on blowjob etiquette - this place would sooner resemble the remains of a celebrity blowout than the quaint little apartment you called home.

You hummed, hoping the impromptu song would distract you from the growing desire to cry. Wallow, one might say.

A reality-piercing rapping at your door tore you from your train of thought. You jumped, almost throwing up your own skeleton. Your heart thudded in your chest, a steadily unsteady rhythm of anxiety coursing through you like acid.

Silence for a moment. Then: “(Y/N)?”

Your knees almost buckled beneath the weight of your incredulity. THe voice was low, raspy, distinctly British, the North-Western Manchester industrialism evident within it. Almost unbelievable.

Your chest erupted with razor-edged butterflies, nerves frying, heart thrumming, harp strings played by a manic god.

“Uh- y-yeah?” you called, peering round the living room door and down the hallway, the front door just in sight. You didn’t want to sound as if the voice was too familiar to you, just in case it wasn’t. In case it wasn’t Ghost.

“You gonna let me in or what?”

You didn’t move for a second, and then moved all at once. “‘Course, coming!” Your voice wavered as you hurried down the hall and to the door. Reaching it, you breathed deeply, quietly, aware of how thin the walls were, straightened out your shirt, and unlocked the door.

And there he stood.

Very little light made it past him, his hulking form taking up all the room that the doorway could spare him, broad and unrelenting. His mask made him appear as a reaper, eyes dark as the rest of his attire. With him he carried a canvas bag. You swallowed thickly.

“H-ey,” you said lightly, voice strained, cracking. You coughed, tried again. “Hey,” you repeated, normally, this time, and leaned against the doorframe. Ghost only looked down at you, emotions and intentions unknown.

Well, mostly unknown. No doubt the message - the silent promise - you’d given him flashed in his mind as it flashed in yours, weaving itself into the fabric of your psychology as any tangible crush did.

“Did it take you long to get here?” Small talk. Well done, (Y/N). You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the hammering of your heart, making the fabric of your shirt jump as it thudded against your chest.

“Depends.” was all Ghost said. He peered over your shoulder. “You alone?” The question made something in you stir. The implication sat heavy in your stomach. It promised something, wanting to crack and bloom. You nodded, not trusting your voice, fighting the smile blistering onto your lips.“Right, then.” Ghost rasped. He looked at you. You looked at him. You both waited for the other to do something. You realised it was your turn.“Oh!” you exclaimed, folding out of Ghost’s path. “Come in, make yourself comfortable-”

Ghost breezed past you, not one for formalities. You swallowed and shut the door behind him. You begged and pleaded with any deity available that you hadn’t already annoyed him.He found the living room and placed his bag down, its contents heavy, evidenced by the thunk it made as it hit the carpet. He shed his gloves soon after, throwing them atop the bag.

You followed behind, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles. Your breathing was shallow and you felt warm all over, the beginnings of sweat forming under your armpits.

Ghost looked around; you could only assume he was familiarising himself with the environment. You coughed and gestured to the sofa, at which point Ghost turned and looked back at you.

“Take a seat,” you said, more requested, actually. Ghost gave a light nod and sat down, making the sofa bow in the centre beneath his weight. He gave a sigh, shut his eyes, and said nothing. He seemed to be comfortable, and you wondered if he’d come straight here from his latest mission. My head game needs to be immaculate to justify him coming all the way from God-knows-where to my apartment, you panicked.

You had the idea of prolonging said demonstration of said head game by offering Ghost tea, a British favourite, which he declined. You offered him water, biscuits, an omelette, a pair of fluffy socks, a film; he declined them all.

“I’ll tell you what I do want, though,” Ghost rasped, looking at you with undivided attention.

You wanted to be sick. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do this, you were simply mortified of the embarrassment that would come with not knowing how to walk the walk after talking the talk. You hoped you could buy yourself just a few more minutes to go over the needlessly explicit notes your friend had given you on this interaction. 

You didn’t want to play dumb, nor did you mean to. You just wanted more time. “What?” you said, nigh shaking with uncertainty.

Ghost beckoned you and, with nowhere else to run, you came to him, standing just out of reach of his knees. He took your wrist and pulled you closer. “On your knees,” he said. His voice felt heavier, either because of the mask or…something else.

Your heart jumped up your throat. You swallowed it.

And now, on buckling legs, you lowered yourself to the floor, pants keeping your knees from being carpet-burned. You kept your breathing quiet, trying to deepen it. Your nerves were no less frazzled.

Ghost lifted his hips from the sofa and unbuckled his belt. He withdrew himself from his pants before you could comprehend or prepare yourself for what was happening.

“Woah!” you exclaimed. Then, you felt your heart and stomach sink. I did not just say that out loud, you begged. Oh my god, no, please.

Ghost’s head tilted as he continued looking down at you, holding his cock in his hand. Given how large the rest of him was, this shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, you were impressed; especially considering he was already half-hard. Something in you felt tight and hot.

“Woah?” he said. You could practically feel him raising an eyebrow beneath his mask. “That impressive, is it?”

You found yourself nodding. You were past the initial point of shame until you encountered the next; your own inexperience. Ghost let out a huff of air, likely a laugh or one of its diluted associates.

“Well, I’m honoured,” he said. There was jest in his tone, and for that you were grateful. You smiled, trying to combat the growing fear overtaking you. Not as honoured as I, you wanted to say, but it felt far too mediaeval and, dare you say, cringe, for this situation. You just nodded. Again

And here you were, staring at the dick of the man who had become the most recent and potent object of your affections. With absolutely no inclination as to what to do next. Your hands were folded in your lap. You squoze them together, trying to disperse some of your nervous energy.

With every second that passed you could feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into you. You knew the bare basics, and that was all anyone could ask of you. Just put it in your mouth and get it over with, you thought. Though, not that you didn’t want to take your time; you would have loved to given that you knew how to make Ghost feel good. But right now, your main concern was trying not to destroy any semblance of respect Ghost may have accrued for you by giving the most terrible head of his life.

All while thinking this, you hadn’t moved, eyes glazed over. Ghost’s baritone came as a startling distraction.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he said. There was mild concern laced somewhere in his voice.

“Oh, no! Totally fine!” you said. Your voice cracked and you winced internally.

“You sure?”

You nodded, smiling through the anguish. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just…been a while since I’ve seen…” you didn’t want to make eye contact with it again; it felt wrong to do so without doing something to it. 

“How long?” The rounded edges of his accent and refusal to pronounce a handful of letters felt oddly endearing to you in this moment. Or perhaps you were clutching at straws, anything else to pay attention to aside from the growing tension in the room.

“Uh…” you pretended to count how long ago your last encounter was, already knowing the answer. “About…I don’t know, doesn't matter - just a long time,” you smiled, your signature at the end of a disaster of a sentence.

Ghost said nothing. Did nothing. He leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, and stared into you. His mask consumed your vision. You knew you couldn’t look anywhere else, frozen.

“(Y/N)...” he began, sighing lightly. “Do you actually wanna do this?”

“Yeah! I mean, I want to, I really want to! It’s just that…” You wanted to swallow your confession, hide it where nobody would ever find it. Ghost’s head tilted as he looked at you. 

“But what?” he said. His voice held no urgency, no pressure, but something…sincere. Curiosity? Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with your sort.“I…” You sighed. The jig was up. Time to come clean.

“I’ve never actually done this before.” You hammered the final nail in your coffin. “Ever.” Your gaze dropped and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see his disappointment. You hid, pointing your face to the floor, your hands on your thighs. You heard Ghost shift.

“Well then, why didn’t you say so?” You felt a hand slide around the back of your head. You jumped, gaze snapping to meet Ghost’s. There was a glimmer in his eye. “I’ll guide you. Just keep your teeth out the way and suck.” His eyes were darker than they had been before. Even without the mask, you felt that he would look just the same.

You nodded, mouth ajar with shock. Ghost took full advantage by bringing your head down to his thighs and prying your mouth open with the tip of his cock. You jumped, he held you in place. You could feel how many hours he’d put into his strength by his firm grip in your hair; not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that it could.

And that power made you warm and wet in places that typically couldn’t be provoked by real, physical men. The many figures and books you’d swept under both the proverbial and physical rug were evidence of this.

Taking in the bulbous tip, you recalled Ghost’s explicit instructions to keep your teeth out of the way and all but unhinged your jaw, trying to accommodate the first of many inches. With the restraint of a god, Ghost only watched, waiting for you to accustom yourself to his girth before continuing.

“Y’alright, Precious?” he said, squeezing your hair, prompting an answer. You hummed around him, making his eyes twitch and the rest of him harden. “Now,” he breathed, “be good for me. Keep goin’,”

You couldn’t nod, you couldn’t do anything aside from what he’d instructed you. And so, you descended. You inhaled another inch or two, swallowing when you felt your saliva collecting in your mouth. As soon as you did, Ghost jutted by a fraction. You decided to try something you remembered teaching yourself.

Your tongue gingerly danced along the edge of his shaft, trying to find the tip before it was too far down the back of your throat even for light to reach it. Ghost gave a light groan as your tongue glossed over the veins of his cock, stopping only upon feeling a dip in the head. Then, with little mercy or idea of what would happen, you stroked it with your tongue, continually, back and forth, in a sustainable rhythm that eased you into a comfortable monotony.

You closed your eyes, mapping out his member in your mind’s eye, a new, salt-like taste slick on your tongue as you went. Ghost’s light groaning turned into a deeper grunt, making your stomach feel tight. You recognised this new taste as pre-cum, something you’d thought was a myth until just now.

It excited you to think that you were the one making Ghost feel this way. You hazarded a glance at said man, and upon doing so, found him looking down at you through heavy eyes. You felt seen, and suddenly very naked. No, exposed. You resisted the flight response to withdraw.

Ghost’s hand rested on the back of your head, and, ever so slightly, you felt him pushing on it. “Go on,” he said through deepening breaths. “Take more of me.”

You obeyed, and, swallowing the collection of pre-cum and saliva collecting in your maw, urged yourself to take another inch or two. You gagged, the tip almost hitting the back of your throat. You could feel it practically grazing the soft, wet skin of your throat.

“S’alright, take your time,” he said, his chest appearing to rise and bay like the tide, deep and consistent.

You took a moment to familiarise yourself, to acquaint yourself with his size, before resuming. You knew you couldn’t take much more at this rate, and you didn’t want to open your eyes to see how much was left of him. Though, judging by the warmth radiating against your face and the tickling sensation of hair against your nose, you figured not too much more.

Your previous anxieties had washed away with Ghost’s soft guidance, leaving you to enjoy the sound of ghost’s groan-laced breaths and the barely restrained juts of his hips as his body urged you to take more.

You began bobbing your head, withdrawing your mouth before impaling it back onto Ghost’s length, all the while his breaths became more laboured, laced with groans and an odd moan. Your hands came to rest atop his knees, holding onto him. You yourself felt a wetness developing between your legs, though you tried not to think about it. A tightness formed in your core, jolting you with flashes of rapture.

You sucked hard, coaxing a faint ‘Ah' from Ghost, followed by the purr in his chest. Guttural groans.

You felt the sheer weight of Ghost’s dick on your tongue, making your jaw begin to ache. You tried to push this aside, too, opting instead to focus entirely on making sure Ghost finished. You’d read enough fanfiction to be able to tell when that would happen. 

Whenever you swallowed around his cock, you heard a strangled noise escape him, not yet a moan, but the promising beginnings of one. It was deep, gruff. You wondered if Ghost made noises like this while getting himself off. The thought sent another jolt between your legs.

The sound of your collective breathing and you guzzling your own pre-cum-laced saliva made the room feel smaller, encasing you both in your own story, one which you hoped had a happy ending.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as your tongue caught a particularly prominent vein, “you sure you’ve never done this before?” He looked down at you through half-lidded, almost closed eyes. Hooded. You felt a smile coming on yet was physically incapable of expressing it. You hummed a response, pride swelling in your chest as you watched Ghost’s eyes screw shut at the feeling.

You wondered if he was close, and, judging by the shortening space between his breaths and the amount of pre-cum filling your mouth, you believed so. His grip in your hair tightened and you could feel him becoming more lost by the second as his restraint crumbled, leading to his grip becoming somewhat painful.

You ignored it, instead trying to take the rest of him for the final stretch. You swallowed, then advanced, swallowing the last couple of inches. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, trying to suppress the aching in your jaw and throat. Ghost hissed, his hips bucking once before he settled again. Your nose was pressed against the bottom of his stomach, dark, curly hairs tickling your nose.

You sucked him, felt him, your tongue trying to coat every inch of him in your saliva, the fire in your lower half burning brighter than ever. Your mind wandered to what it would feel like to be filled by him, encouraging you to go faster. Harder. You moved at a pace you thought was beyond your capacity, lips burning from the friction of sliding across the length of Ghost’s glossed cock.

“Just like that,” he breathed, just about capable of forming a cohesive thought, never mind a sentence.Something in your intuition told you he was close. Or perhaps it was in the way his groans had turned into deep, baritone moans and barely-comprehensible curses. You sucked harder.

“Keep goin’,” he said, breathless, “‘m nearly there,”

With a final push, running your tongue along a sensitive vein and swallowing, throat contracting around his tip, he came. Hard. He let out a mask-muffled moan, short yet harsh and potent, tailing off into a symphony of heavy breaths and groans. The sound made your core hot and tight, radiating tension and the promise of euphoria. 

His hand fused with your hair, gripping it tight enough to make you wince. Thick ropes of warm cum filled your mouth and throat, forcing you to withdraw as it went down the wrong way. You kept your mouth closed when you coughed, unsure of what to do with Ghost’s semen. It felt far too precious to spit out, yet you were unsure as to whether you were permitted to swallow. You watched Ghost collect his thoughts, his hold on your head loosening. He ran his fingers through where he’d held you, soothing you. Apologising for how rough he’d been.

His eyes opened, and he looked at you. You could see them widen fractionally as he spotted your cum-filled cheeks, waiting for his order.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he said, releasing a breath. Admiring his work. “Didn’t know you were waitin’ for me.”

You nodded, the taste of salt engulfing your tongue almost overwhelming. Ghost released the back of your head and deposited himself back into his pants, now having softened. He leaned down, just above eye level with you. “Swallow,” he ordered.

You did, and Ghost watched your throat bob. He gave a short hum and ran his thumb over the outline of your bottom lip. You leaned into his touch, his hand warm against your scorching skin.

You didn’t know how long you remained like that for, but it didn’t feel long enough. He withdrew, leaving you to feel cold without his immediate presence. Then, the reality of what you’d just done dawned on you. Your eyes widened, and you tried to keep your surprise to yourself.

You could scarcely believe that you’d actually - or rather, you and Ghost had - managed to do that without disappointing him. You only hoped it was as good for Ghost as he’d made it seem.

“Ghost,” you said, voice raspy and low, soft with inquisition. Ghost only hummed, leaning against the backrest of the sofa. “Did…” you swallowed, the slick remnants of him residing in crevices in your mouth. “Did I do well?” You almost wished you hadn’t asked, cringing at how desperate for confirmation you sounded. In your head, at least.

Ghost didn’t make it seem like that. He gave a slight nod.

“Very well,” he said, his emphasis reassuring you. You felt as if you could release the monstrous doubt accumulating on your shoulders. You gave a smile, plumping your flushed cheeks.

You both remained in slow silence, coming down from the excitement of what had just unfolded. Your gazes wandered the room, looking at nothing in particular. You wanted to maintain the tranquillity that had settled, but you felt another question burning in your lungs, desperate to be answered. You waited, then waited a little longer. Then, you asked.

“Ghost?” you said, your sore throat prickling, the ache in your knees becoming apparent to you. He looked to you. “Why did you come here?” Your question was genuine, and you didn’t want the skin-deep answer you knew was available to him; because I wanted a quick blow before I went home. You wanted him to look past that. His gaze was unintelligible.

“Why’d you invite me ‘ere?”

You blinked, then your honesty got the better of you. “Because…” You felt your face heating up again. You’ve literally just blown him, this should be a cake walk! “Because I...like you…?”

Ghost’s chest rumbled, likely a laugh.

“Well then, there’s your answer.”

Your heart wanted to soar, but the vagueness of his answer made you lust to ask just one more question.

“So…” you hoped your inquisitiveness (or density, as you might call it) was endearing, or at the least an excuse for your lack of abstract understanding. “Does this mean that you like me, too?” Your voice became more and more interrogative, phrasing the question in such a way that made it seem a mockery of itself, as if it were cosplaying its own function, exaggerated.

Ghost went quiet for a moment. “Honestly?” he said. You almost nodded before realising he was going to say more. “Yeah. I do.”

Okay, now your heart soared. You couldn’t fight the smile overtaking your features. Ghost noticed and made haste to try and revoke some of the joy he’d inflicted.

“Now don’t get all soppy on me,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “Else I’ll be forced to take drastic action.” Ignore you until you stop, is what your mind told you he’d do.

You tried to restrain your grin, but it remained. You could only reassure him verbally.

“No promises, Ghost,” you said, biting back the urge to laugh with joviality. Ghost shifted, his gaze becoming more intense. Serious.

“Call me Simon.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

[megamett44-lover]

what if you write a fic about the triplets and the reader going through a drive thru - but - the reader gets ketchup on their burger. when the triplets and reader get to the sturniolo house to hang out afterwards, matt and reader are hanging out and matt gives the reader a kiss. since the reader had ketchup before, he's trying to ignore it and like trying to hide it because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings but she ends up finding out anyways- and just finds it hilarious. (it could be an established relationship or they confess and then kiss, whichever you think works better)

love your works and take your time writing this one <33

thank you sm 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Matt Sturniolo × Reader

Summary: In which a trip down memory lane leads to a confession

Warnings/Notes: Profanity, she/her pronouns

Requested? Yes!

First Kiss

It was exactly 12:02 a.m. when my phone pinged with an incoming text message. I push my textbooks off my lap and roll over to grab my phone. A simple “Come outside” from Matt is at the top of my notifications.

“This kid and his ominous texts.” I laugh, putting on my slippers.

Locking my apartment and making my way downstairs, I notice the minivan parked in front of the building.

“Hey Y/N!” Chris screams as he pops his head through the sunroof.

“Shut up!” I whisper-shout. “There are people who are actually sleeping in there and I don’t feel like getting evicted my first month here!”

Walking to the drivers side, I open the back door to see Madi and Nick.

“Hey guys.” I say, getting in and sitting on the floor between Nick and Madi.

“Hey girl.” Madi says.

“Were you asleep? You look exhausted.” Nick notes.

“Gee thanks.” I roll my eyes playfully. “I was actually studying for my test tomorrow.”

“Gross school.” Chris comments.

“Very gross.” I groan. “Not that I don’t love you guys or anything, but why am I here?”

“You need a break from being holed up in your tiny ass apartment.” Chris says.

“And we missed you.” Madi adds.

“So we’re going to Mcdonald’s.” Matt says, backing out of the parking lot.

“Oh I’d kill for a big mac right now.” I say, mouth watering at the idea.

“And we may or may not be filming a little.” Nick says, referring to the camera in his lap. “If you don’t want to be in it, that’s totally fine too!”

“That’s fine.” I say. “But I look like a homeless rat.”

“You don’t look like a homeless rat.” Matt says.

“Yeah, you look like a rat with a very nice apartment.” Chris jokes.

“I actually hate you.” I mumble as everyone laughs.

Pulling into the McDonalds drive through, Nick orders for everyone. We get our food and find a secluded parking lot and set up to film.

Taking a bite from my burger, I sigh. “This burger is so fucking good.”

“It’s not that serious, Y/N.” Chris laughs.

“I haven’t had McDonalds in forever.” I protest. “It is that serious.”

“Alright, we asked you guys to send in some things you want us to talk about from our childhood, so we’re going to be doing that.” Nick says.

“Oh God.” I groan, closing my eyes. “This is going to be embarrassing.”

“Why?” Madi asks.

“Because Y/N used to be a dork.” Chris laughs.

“Okay at least I didn’t sleep in a Pokémon onsie until I was 12.” I say.

“That was me!” Matt says.

“Oh I know.” I laugh.

Nick looks down at his phone, pulling up Instagram to check the answers from his story. “What’s one injury you remember from childhood?”

“Probably the time Justin hit me with a golf club.” Matt says.

“That was terrifying.” I say. “I remember Nick running to my house in his underwear freaking out because he didn’t like blood.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that.” Nick says. “Your mom was so confused.”

“Mine was probably when Chris pushed me off of the monkey bars at school and I got a concussion.” I say, taking a french fry from the bag.

“I did not push you!” Chris exclaims.

“You most definitely did.” Matt corrects.

“Yeah because I just so happened to fall off of the monkey bars.” I say sarcastically.

“You were clumsy.” Chris says.

“Matt witnessed it!” I say, throwing a fry at Chris.

“Yeah, you were mad because she cut in front of you in line, so you pushed her off.” Matt explains.

“Whatever.” Chris grumbles.

“One time, Y/N was yelling at me to come downstairs and I fell because someone put oil on the top step.” Nick says.

“In my defense, it was Chris’ idea.” I say.

“Yeah that was me, I’ll admit that.” Chris says.

“You were a demon, oh my God.” Madi laughs.

“He still is.” Matt agrees.

“Oooo what do you think about this one, Y/N?” Nick asks, showing me his phone.

Someone had wrote “Tell us about your first kiss!”

I genuinely start rolling laughing. “I don’t know, I don’t want your fan girls to hate me for this.”

“What is it?” Matt asks.

Nick responds by passing his phone up front to Matt and Chris. Matt reads it and his cheeks immediately turn red.

“Oh this is good!” Chris says. “I say Y/N and Matt goes first.”

Matt rolls his eyes and puts his face in his hands.

“Alright, so we’re going to be talking about our first kisses.” I say. “And mine just so happened to be with Matt.”

Madi gasps. “No way.” She laughs.

“Yes way.” I laugh with her. “We were like what, 13, 14, Matt?”

“I was in 8th grade and you were in 7th, so yeah that sounds right.” Matt says muffled through his hands.

“I was getting picked on because I was the only girl in my friend group who hadn’t had a first kiss yet and I was complaining to Matt about it.” I say.

“This is so cheesy.” Nick laughs.

“Shut up!” I laugh. “So I was complaining to Matt about it and he offered to be my first kiss. So we kissed. That’s it.”

“So wait, was she your first kiss too?” Madi asks Matt.

“Yeah, she was.” Matt answers.

“That’s so cute!” Madi exclaims.

“It was super awkward.” I say. “We made a promise to never talk about it again, until now, I guess.”

“Matt did not abide by that promise.” Nick says.

“Yeah, kid would not shut up about it for like 6 months after it happened.” Chris agrees.

“Okay, yeah, yeah. It’s y’all’s turn.” Matt says, clearly embarrassed.

“Aww Matt’s embarrassed.” Chris teases, poking Matt’s ribs. “He had a little cwushy-wushy on Y/N.”

“Hey, you tried to kiss me in kindergarten!” I say, pointing to Chris. “I had almost forgot about that!”

“It was a dare!” Chris says.

“Don’t worry guys, I didn’t kiss Chris because he had cooties.” I laugh.

“I did not have cooties!” Chris says. “You were the one who made that up and told everyone!”

“I only made it up because you pushed me off the monkey bars!” I say.

“I didn’t push you!” Chris yells.

“Yes you did!” Matt and I say at the same time.

“Uh oh, not the couple ganging up on me!” Chris throws up his hands dramatically.

“Alright, cootie boy.” I roll my eyes.

“You know what?” Chris says, practically launching himself into the backseat trying to tickle me.

“Madi help!” I scream, trying to deflect Chris as much as possible.

“You guys are actually children.” Nick says.

“Oh you want some too, big dog?” Chris says, shifting his attention to Nick.

“Chris!” Nick screams, almost dropping his Dr.Pepper on him.

The rest of the video goes off without a hitch. By the time we were finished filming, it was 2:30 a.m.

“Madi is gonna stay with us tonight, you wanna just stay at ours?” Nick asks, packing up the camera.

“C’mon, Y/N!” Chris says. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“I can never say no to a sleepover.” I laugh. “Count me in.”

“Thank God, I’ll need some female energy in that house.” Madi says, dapping me up.

As we drove back to the triplets house, I had noticed Matt was extra quiet. I put it off as being tired, but the way I kept catching him look at me in the rear view mirror made me think otherwise.

Pulling into the house, we all piled out and made our way inside.

“Goodnight, everyone.” Nick says, venturing off to his room.

Madi hugged me. “See you in the morning!” She says, following behind Nick.

“Where you sleeping, Y/N?” Chris asks. “You know my rooms always open.”

I laugh. “No offense, Chris, but you won’t be going to sleep for another three hours and I’m exhausted.” I flop down on the couch, pulling a blanket over me. “I’ll just sleep here.”

“No way.” Matt says. “You do not have to sleep on the couch. You can stay in mine if you want?”

Chris laughs, making kissy noises as he walks downstairs to his room.

“Jesus, that kid.” I laugh. I look over at Matt, who is looking at me with expectant eyes. “Yeah, I’ll sleep in your room, if that’s cool?”

“Mi casa es su casa.” Matt says, walking down the hall to his room.

“Okay, Flo-Rida.” I say, following him.

Matt flops down on the bed, throwing a pillow over his face. Walking over, I yank the pillow off of him.

“Hey!” He protests.

I sit down beside him. “Okay, spill.” I demand.

Matt looks at me quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Ever since I talked about our kiss, you’ve been acting weird. Spill.” I say.

“I haven’t.” Matt says. “I’m just tired.”

“Mhm.” I say. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?” Matt rolls his eyes.

“Just don’t.” I shrug. I roll over to the other side of the bed, getting under the blankets.

Matt flips the lights off, before joining me in bed.

“Goodnight, Matt.” I say, rolling over to face him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Matt says, pulling the blankets over him as well.

It’s silent for about 5 minutes, and I feel myself starting to doze off, when suddenly, the weight in the bed shifts. I open my eyes to see Matt sitting up beside me.

“Matt, what’re you-” I start.

“I like you, Y/N.” Matt blurts out.

I blink my eyes really hard to make sure I’m not dreaming and I shake my head.

“Ever since we were kids, I’ve liked you.” Matt says. “The feelings would come and go, and I really tried to make them go for the sake of our friendship, but I really, really like you, Y/N.”

Matt looks back at me as I stare wide-eyed at him. “Really?” I whisper.

“Why do you think I volunteered to be your first kiss?” Matt asks. “Chris wasn’t lying when he said I talked about that kiss for 6 months. He wasn’t lying when he said I had a crush on you. I could just…never find the right time to tell you.”

I sit up beside Matt, grabbing his hand. “I really wish you would’ve told me sooner.” I say.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Matt says. “You don’t know how much it killed me to see you with other guys, Y/N. That shit was so unbearable.”

It’s silent for a moment before Matt sighs deeply.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I really do. But I just had to tell you so-” I cut Matt off by placing my lips on his.

Feeling his lips against mine, suddenly I’m 13 again in Boston having my first kiss with my best friend. His hands find the sides of my face and it’s like the world stopped spinning. It’s like everything around us has faded away and it’s just us.

We pull away slowly, each of us gasping for air.

“I don’t know where I got the balls to do that.” I whisper. I open my eyes to notice Matt grimacing a bit.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, no. Nothings wrong.” Matt says, grabbing my hand.

“No, something is definitely wrong.” I say.

Matt turns a little red before looking at his lap. “It’s just…was there ketchup on your burger earlier?”

“Yeah…?” I say, confused. And then it suddenly makes sense. I throw myself back into the bed, dying in a fit of laughter. “Oh my God!” I laugh, gasping for air.

I sit up, looking at Matt. “I am so sorry.” I say, still laughing.

“It’s okay.” He says, smiling. “I’ll taste ketchup every day as long as it’s from your lips.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“Maybe.” He smiles. “So is it safe to say you feel the same?”

“Don’t make me kiss you with my ketchup breath again, Matthew.” I say.

“Is that a promise?” Matt asks, slowly pulling me back into another kiss.

a/n: help this is one of the longest stories I’ve written. but if I were to make a tag list, who would want to be added to it???

[system-to-the-madness]

My Cards - Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort Word Count: 2 916 Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence (abduction, murder), mentions of drug use in the past Summary: At the day that Spencer is clean for eleven years, he decides it’s time to show you his cards. A/N: I've got a few asorted fics that I've writen ages ago, and will publish one after another (might sprinkle some anime and soc in between). Sorry for that already. If you want to block a certain fandom: the tag to blog is #mad (fandom shortcut) for criminal minds, that would be #mad cm

13 years. That’s how long Spencer Reid was your colleague already. Actually – he would correct you – it had been 13 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes and approximately 26 seconds.

You were not sure for how long he had been your best friend. Probably 12 years. Spencer would not have been able to answer that question if you had asked him. After all this time he still sometimes struggled in accepting that there was someone he could call whenever, literally whenever he needed someone.

You had been with him through thick and thin, had been there for him after he had been abducted by Hankel, had comforted him, when he had cried for Hotch and Jack after Hayley had been murdered, had talked until the early hours of the morning after Emily had supposedly died. You had never been further than a phone call away, had never complained when he called you in the late hours of the night because he had had another nightmare, had cooked him tea or watched trashy soap operas with him when he had felt down.

He wondered if he had ever paid you back enough. Whether the few times you had called him after a nightmare or a traumatic event or a bad case would ever be enough to make up for what you had given him. With you around, his flat felt like a home, with you on the other end of the sofa he did not worry about the shadows lingering in the corners of the room.

He felt like a pervert for the many times he had asked you to share a bad with him, so he could fall asleep more easily. Every time, without fail you had climbed under the covers with him, maybe even wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back, lulling him to sleep. He hated himself for all the times he had reached out a hand while you were sleeping, to feel if you were really there, if your skin was warm, your chest lifting and lowering with even breaths.

People often liked calling him a genius, but it had taken him many years to figure out that somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with you after you had prevented his complete self-destruction over Maeve‘s death. He felt guilty for it, for having fallen in love with you while you had helped him grieve another woman he had loved, and somewhere in his heart still did. One night you had told him, that he would always carry the people he had once loved in his heart. He had asked how it would ever be possible for someone to accept him if a part of him still loved someone else. You had shrugged at that and answered, that this person would have to understand that we are made off who and what we love, that this way Maeve had become a part of him, which this person would love too, if they loved him. He had nodded at that, and wondered if you could ever love him.

When he had first realised his feelings for you, he had thought his heart wanted to numb itself by making up emotions for you to forget about Maeve, but after years he felt just as strongly about you as he had back then, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he had always loved you, deep in his heart.

12 years. That’s how long you had been friends with Spencer. And yet you had the distinct feeling, that tonight was different, that tonight was not his usual call for comfort. He had been nervous, when he had asked you if you wanted to come back to his place after work, and he had never been nervous around you before.

Now you stood in his living room, your shoes kicked off next to the door, just like his, your jacket on the coatrack, half covered by his. Usually you had no trouble to make yourself at home, but Spencer’s behaviour, his nervousness, made you feel like this was the very first time you had stepped into his flat, so you stood in the living room, fiddling with your fingers, while Spencer was searching for something in his bedroom.

When he emerged back into the living room, he tossed you something, which you barely caught. Confused you turned a coin in your hands, the dim light not allowing you to read the lettering immediately, but then you made it out.

“10 years?”

You held up the coin to take an even closer look, but other than that, and a small symbol, you could not find anything else edged into it.

“Is that a sobriety coin,” you asked, handing it back to Spencer, who took the coin back and let it wander through his fingers.

“It is,” he nodded, letting the coin disappear into seemingly thin air, presenting his empty palms to you before he sat down on the sofa.

You tried thinking back to ten years ago, and what had happened back then. Somewhat over eleven years ago Hankle had kidnapped him-

Spencer seemed to have interpreted your focused expression correctly, because without further prompting he explained.

“Dilaudid. Hankel injected me with it repeatedly. I- I developed an addiction.”

For a long while you looked at him as he was fiddling around with the coin again. You had always suspected that there had been a phase soon after the Hankle incident in which something had been off. You had basically lived at his place for half a year, since he had called you every night, asking you to come over. You had never hesitated to do so, your desire to comfort your friend also driven by the worry he might do something stupid. Like give in to an addiction. You should have confronted him about it, should have asked. Actually, you had thought about it, countless times, but always come to the conclusion, that he would only deny everything and shut himself off. You had let him suffer on his own, he had never, until today, felt comfortable enough to tell you about it. Maybe you could have helped him. Maybe-

“Actually, it’s eleven years today,” he suddenly said, and lifted his head to look at you. The coin was, once again, gone. “I just… I wanted to spend today with you, instead of going to a meeting.”

“I-”

The voice died in your throat at Spencer’s soft, lopsided smile, the smile he always gave you when he knew exactly what you were thinking, but also knew it was wrong.

“You think you should have said something back then, don’t you?”

You nodded quietly and watched him lean back into the cushions.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the person, who actually helped me to get clean?”

He chuckled at your furrowed brows and patted the space next to him on the sofa, but you remained standing, rooted in spot. You had no right to sit next to him, to be here in his apartment, to be anywhere near the man you had let down knowingly.

“You left a flyer here once, for the community centre,” Spencer explained.

You remembered the flyer. You had spent hours upon hours looking up drug addiction in law enforcement until you had come across a newly funded self-help group in a new community centre not too far away from his flat. After work you had driven by there and picked up a flyer, which a couple of days later you had put onto Spencer’s table, telling him you were interested in one of the pottery classes, and if he wanted to go with you. The advertisement for the pottery class had been right underneath that for the self-help group and been your boldest attempt at ever confronting him.

“Without that flyer, I never would have had the courage to get help,” Spencer confessed. “Other than you, of course.”

“What did I do,” your voice almost was not loud enough for him to hear, drowned by tears that now also blurred your vision. “I just left you alone, I-”

“You always came when you called,” he explained, “I wanted you over as much as possible so I wouldn’t have time for the next fix. I- well I practically used your compassion to get clean.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

Spencer’s smile slowly died, and he pressed his lips together, a clear sign that he knew the answer but felt uncomfortable sharing it.

After a moment of deafening silence, he answered. “I was scared you’d be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? Spencer I could never-”

“It was easier to believe that than to accept the truth, that there really might be a person who would care for me either way, no matter how much I fucked up,” he confessed. “It’s still- I still struggle to accept sometimes that you are always here for me. Like… nobody ever really cared about me, other than my mum, and yet… you’ve been here every time I needed you, for years.”

“Not every time. I should’ve-”

“Every single time. And I just can’t understand why you would do that to yourself.”

“Because you’re my friend, Spencer. And I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me, too, when I needed help.”

“When did I help you?”

“You were the first one to check in on me whenever I had to shoot someone. You always make soup when I’m sick, you come over when I have nightmares, or am just lonely. You take me out to movies when I whine about not having a social life, you read me to sleep, sometimes for hours. Do you even realise how much you helped me all these years? Without you I would’ve quit the BAU a long time ago, but with you I can face the demons.”

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The soft orange light of the reading lamp beside the couch made his brown eyes glow like ambers. Neither of you turned away, just blinked occasionally. You wanted to tell him, then and there, that you loved him, that you had loved him for years, but you figured that there were some truths your friendship could not withstand. Maybe Spencer had felt that way about his addiction the whole time too. You wondered if there would ever be a time where you could tell him ‘hey Spencer, actually back then, I was totally in love with you and thought I’d spent the rest of my life with you’, and then you’d laugh about it. You blinked the thought away.

“Why did you tell me now,” you wondered, being the first to break the silence.

“I figured, after eleven years, it’s time to tell someone. So tonight I’m showing you my cards.”

“Cards? Plural?”

“There is one more thing.” Spencer got up from where he had been sitting on the couch, but did not step closer while your thoughts were reeling.

One more thing. Another secret he had never told you. Had he been diagnosed with schizophrenia? No, statistically he was too old for that. Dementia? His mother had it, and sometimes even young people got diagnosed with it. No, probably not, you would have noticed. Was he leaving the BAU? Did he have cancer?

“Whatever world ending scenarios you’re coming up with right now, it’s none of that, I promise you,” he spoke quietly. You hated how well he knew you. Well, not hated, but.. well.

“Is it bad,” you asked, watching how he started fiddling around with his hands again. He suddenly got nervous.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice a little higher than before. “It depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“You.” His answer made your heart sink. “But things will be different, no matter what.”

“I don’t want things to be different,” you shook your head, silent panic rising in your chest. “I like the way things are now.” Quickly you took a few steps across the living room right to him and grabbed one of his hands. “I don’t want things to change!”

“And I don’t want to keep secrets, so please let me be honest.”

For a moment you looked at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, which had brought you comfort for so many years, at his wild, brown curls, at his dress shirt and the loosened tie, and the soft cardigan, and then his eyes again. If you allowed him to speak, you might lose everything you had had with him. He had been your anchor, long before you had developed feelings for him, but now that you had, you wanted to fight, so you did not have to give him up.

But he was his own person. Earlier or later, he would tell you. And he had said whether that secret was bad or not depended on you, so you needed to be ready to accept what he was about to tell you, just like that time your high school crush had confessed to you that he was gay and you had ended up with setting him up with his crush. They were married now. So, whatever it was-

Slowly you nodded, and Spencer’s previously tense features softened slightly. His eyes skipped over your face, making you feel strange self-aware, and his fingers tightened around yours, from where you had taken his hand; a comforting squeeze. Carefully he shuffled closer and bent down. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, but of course he would not do that. Yet he did not lean to your ear either. He just looked at you for a moment, making you hold your breath.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips hotly, “That’s my last secret. I’m in love with you and have been for the past three years. What you do with that information is now up to you.”

For a moment you did not move, did not dare moving, just stared at him with your heart hammering in your chest. You were an excellent profiler, had studied human behaviour for soon 20 years, had learnt to recognise what lying looked like. Spencer was not lying. Maybe you were dreaming, but even then-

A flicker of your eyes to his lips was all it took for Spencer to lurch forward and close the remaining distance between your lips. He was not gentle as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, but rather desperate, desperate to finally feel you as close as he had always dreamt of, desperate to taste your lips and feel your breath. Hoping to find anything to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around him too, slid one hand into his fine locks, the other gripping tightly into his soft cardigan.

Kissing him was nothing like you had imagined it to be, but so much better. He was careful and yet demanding, and he slipped his tongue over your lips and into your mouth, gentle but unrelenting in the way he held you, walked you back to the couch, where he slowly lowered you down, before sitting down next to you, never breaking the kiss. Faintly you felt his heartbeat in his lips and under his skin, hammering hard, testimony of how much he had wanted this. And with each touch of his, your own guilt over the feelings you had developed for him slowly melted away and left nothing but hot, searing love in its path.

Only when you were out of breath, lips red and swollen, cheeks hot, did you pull away, gently shoved against Spencer’s chest, who was still trying to chase your lips. His eyes were wide and glassy as he finally met yours, still completely entranced, and yet confused as to why you had pulled away.

“Enough,” you commanded with shivering voice and a smile on your face, “enough, I need air.”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbled, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he started building up his walls, already searching for an excuse to explain what just had happened.

Not wanting to allow this, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands, and forced him to look at you. His cheeks were hot, and his eyes danced around uncertainly, before finally resting on yours.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, and leant forward to peck his lips, before quickly hiding your face against his neck. You barely saw his look of doubt turn into that of surprise before a smile took over his face.

“Oh,” he repeated, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He smelled divine. Like safety, like home.

“Can we just stay like this forever,” you asked, you voice muffled against his skin.

“Actually-” from his tone of voice you could tell he would doubtlessly tell you how long it would either of you approximately take, until one of you needed the bathroom or something to eat, but then he stopped himself. “Yes.”

You chuckled against his neck, causing a shiver to run through him and goosebumps to rise on his arms. Gently you brushed your lips against his skin, not getting enough of how soft it felt. Forever was probably not long enough.

You had been colleagues with Spencer for 13 years, his best friend for 12. But from tonight on you also were his lover.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not picking my brothers side against our mother?

Some background information:

My brother (let’s call him Collin) is trans (20m) We come from a relatively Catholic (we aren’t religious but the influence is deffo there) conservative country and have been living in the USA for most of our lives. My mother definitely can’t be considered LGBTQ allies, although they are much more understanding than some of the people here, especially in the south— which is impressive considering where we come from. She is TERRIBLE with using the correct pronouns for Collin, so much so that he doesn’t contact her much anymore. I’ve never tried to get him to do otherwise— it’s his choice, and I still respect him. I can understand it. Shortly before he moved away, he’d rant to me about her. I was pretty good with listening and giving advice/support for the first few years, but towards the end of high school (when the school work stress was piling up, along with other external family issues), it started to weigh on me. I wanted (and still want) to be someone Collin can confide in, but I still love my mother. She has made improvements with her close-mindedness, even if they aren’t huge steps. Whenever I try to give reasons for her behavior or just try to get them to get along, he accused me of siding with her. A lot of his perceptions of her seem warped these days, too. Like a while ago he was talking with me via text about one of his friends/coworkers (who is gay). He told me not to mention to our mother that this friend is gay— this friend, by the way, is fully out and married. A few months later I slipped and mentioned it to my mother (she had suggested that this friend probably likes this woman we know and I said “no mom he’s gay!”). And she didn’t really react? She just bluescreened for a moment (the trademark “confused boomer pause”) and went on with the conversation. I’ve had a lot of talks with her about LGBTQ issues, and I’ve actually managed to get her to consider the fact that homophobia may stem from religion (she is a very science>religion kind of person). She wholeheartedly believes that LGBTQ issues should not be politicized. (Not an ally, not an enemy.)

anyway, all this to say that Collin has a very 2D impression of her. Last year I went to pick him up at the airport, and mom called while we were in the car to remind us to stop by [store] and pick something up. When the call ended, Collin snorted and said something like “the bitch couldn’t have just sent a text?”

I told him, a bit snappishly, to shut up. He looked surprised and I felt bad, but I told him that I didn’t want any in part in the conflict and that he should stop bringing me into it.

I was also kind of pissed at him at the time for posting the story of an argument between our mother and I (my period was a month late, she thought I was pregnant*— not even an argument she was just annoyingly suspicious for a week or two) online. He changed names for privacy, but there were people who knew who he was so it wasn’t that hard to figure out who his “sister” was. Since I never gave him permission to share it with anyone, I asked him to take it down. He did eventually. but I guess that could be for another AITA post.

*I have never dated or shown interest in dating anyone.

Overall, I feel that he has the right to argue/have a bad relationship with our mother. But I also have a right to let it affect me without being labeled as a bad or traitorous sister.

What are these acronyms?

[dead3ve]

Neil Perry x fem!shy!reader

Summary: When Welton's sister school burns down, the female students end up residing at Welton as well. Neil Perry, one of Welton's finest, begins to take a liking to one of the quieter ladies.

Warnings: This is a first post :) reader referred to as female, lady, girl. gender neutral (they/them) pronouns used. No use of y/n. shy reader insert

Neil Perry was waiting outside of the ladies' quarters. The refurbished section of Welton now dedicated to the housing of the new female teachers and students was so affectionately named the 'ladies' quarters' thanks to one Charlie Dalton. The same Dalton that had forced Neil to wait for a certain lady to exit her room. With a book in hand, Neil contemplated whether or not the girl would like his attempts of flirting.

Neil had taken a liking to this girl. They were quiet, but knowledgeable. He knew this because Neil sat next to them for his beloved English class with Mr Keating, where whenever a question was asked a whispered and correct answer comes from the desk to his left. Once, Neil caught their eye when they were whispering the correct answer. They blushed and turned to look straight down at their desk for the rest of the lesson. Neil did not wish to offend them, just to simply admire them and their mind. So, after class he caught them by the elbow, and asked "Why don't you speak in class? Your answers are always right." Neil was left holding onto the elbow of the girl whilst they looked up at him with eyes so full of longing, and a mouth sealed shut by the restraints of fear.

They responded with a meek "I'm not always right."

Neil watched the girl pull away from his hold and hurry along after their friends, each of the ladies' heavy, uniformed skirts grazing the others' as they walked to their next class.

Neil looked down at the book he had bought for the girl in his hands. A special edition of one of their favorites, according to their friends, who all giggled at Neil's shy appreciation of the girl.

Down the hall, the thick clunk of school shoes approached Neil. He looked up after being in a romantic daze. He saw them. In their regular school skirt and button up shirt. They wore a cardigan though. Autumn had entered the hallways of the school. Neil stepped into the middle of the quiet hallway.

"Hi." Neil said. The girl faltered in her walking. Slowing her approach, seeming like they were questioning that Neil was actually there to see them.

"Hi." The girl began to speed up again, once they realized he was here to speak to them.

They stopped in front of him and smiled. Big and shy and bright all at the same time. The book in Neil's hands caught the girl's attention. The colors were so clearly representing a certain franchise and the picture on the front seemed to depict a familiar character. Neil noticed their eyes wandering and smiled at their silent curiosity. He held the book out to her.

"It's for you." Neil said with a smile on his lips as the girl went to take it cautiously with a small grin. Not because they were scared of Neil, but because they did not know if they were overstepping. They were very interested in the boy, after all.

Neil, realizing that they might not understand the display of affection being attempted, decided to pull the book back to himself before they could take it.

"It's yours, I promise. But I am giving it to you because I like you, and maybe we could go get a coffee sometime?" By the end of the sentence, Neil was losing confidence. His voice grew higher, making a slight crack in the middle of the word "sometime".

Unbeknownst to Neil, who was looking down at the cover of the book held in his hands, they were beginning to smile wider as he grew more nervous. Eventually the girl took the book from Neil and began to walk away from him. Neil stopped thinking. Stopped moving. Did they not like him? Was the book the only valuable thing presented? Did Neil get the wrong idea?

"You said it would be mine. I'd like to read it so I can tell you about it on our coffee date." They spoke loud enough for Neil to hear. He was stood maybe 2 meters away, back turned from the girl. They spoke loud enough so Neil had to have heard them.

Neil turned and took a breath when he saw them looking at him already with a bashful grin and pink cheeks. The book clutched against her chest. Neil took two paces towards the girl. He pushed some fallen hair behind her ear, making her pink cheeks turn red. Neil asked:

"Sit next to me in study hall?"

[h0ney-mochi]

HELLO!! Can i request sub!fanboy!xiao x soft dom!idol (fem or gn) reader? feel free to ignore this! (i apologize for bad grammar & this is my first time requesting) Have a nice day! :D

Fanboy!Xiao x fem!reader ;; modern au (?)

NSFW/SMUT CONTENT (sub!fanboy!xiao, soft dom!reader, idol!reader, reader is afab but no pronoun use, praise, pegging, xiao calls reader 'ma'am' once or twice, longer scenario, not proofread, not too much nsfw tbh my bad)

Summary: Xiao is your biggest fan, yet he never approaches you, so you decide to do that yourself. Things escalate when you give him your number after your performance and you two hang out...

A/n: don't worry nonnie it's alright!! Ur grammar is fine, first time requesting can always be anxious <3 This was fun to write, I read like three kpop writings, one of danganronpa and then did research on idols BAHAHAH / sorry for taking such a long time to write this, hope this is well?! <3

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

There was no denying that Xiao was your biggest fan. You noticed him at every concert, every meet-and-greet, every single event where you were. It made you feel sweet that he always showed up, light sticks and signs of your name, always waving them when you sang. You were also surprised that he could afford to come to every single event..?

But one thing you found interesting is that he never tried to talk to you like everyone else. Xiao was always in the back, just watching, looking at you. Your first thought was that he's shy. Made you a little upset that he didn't even try interacting with you. So you decided that you should start first.

You were aware that he had many accounts — fan pages — dedicated to you. Instagram with short clips of you on stage, pictures and merchandise he had bought, what not. Twitter was just posting updates, links to your newest videos, pictures and more. If he was able to film a longer video of you performing, he'd upload it along with his merchandise hauls.

And Xiao is over the moon when he notices you following each and every one. Almost falls over in his own room when you leave comments from time to time. He swears he'll come up to you some day, but he's so scared of messing up. What if he accidentally says something weird?? Xiao wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare slip up and admit he daydreams of you.

Yet when your eyes met and you sent a heart gesture in his direction? Yes, he fainted and yes, you were worried as he was taken away. A day after that concert, you thought of sending a message to see if he was alright. But when you saw him tweeting about that, you couldn't help but laugh. He was cute.

...

It was the end of another concert. Everyone was leaving and you told one of your bodyguards to find a 'dark green haired male with highlights that looks pretty'. You watched from afar as the man left to find Xiao. He was typing on his phone, probably updates on one of his accounts.

Once the man approached him, he set his phone away in confusement, asking questions, if he had done something wrong. Your guard just shook his head and told him to follow. You walked away from sight, smoothing out your outfit. If Xiao won't approach you first, you will.

Once he realized he's going backstage, his nervousness grew higher. But when he steps inside and sees you with a smile, staring at him, he almost trips on air.

You chuckle before telling yout bodyguard that ge can leave for a while. He does, leaving you two alone. You look back at the boy and smile again.

"Your name is Xiao, correct?" You ask. You knew his name, of course, but you had to start conversation somehow. His hands are shaking and his eyes are wide, staring at you. Is this real? You're talking to him? You actually know his name like for real?

He feels lightheaded.

"Xiao, are you alright?" You ask again when he doesn't respond. He finally reacts, quickly nodding his head. "Y-Yeah, I'm Xiao," he speaks, voice trembling. You turn around to take your water bottle from the table so you could share.

You hand him the bottle with a smile, "You're nervous, I get it, but don't worry! I don't bite, promise." You watch as he slowly takes the bottle from you, quickly licking his dry lips. You could hear a quiet thank you. You just nodded.

"No, it's just-" Xiao swallows, opening it, still staring, "I can't believe you're talking to me personally? All alone?" You laugh and he feels his face heat up.

He really is shy. Adorable.

"Well, you never tried approaching me, so I thought I should do it first," you say while he drinks, "Although I do wonder, do you not want to talk or you just want to watch from the back?"

"Wait, no, I-" Xiao panics for a moment, but stops before he says anything different, "I mean, I really, really want to talk to you, it's been a dream of mine-" "But?"

"..But I don't think you'd have time for me?" He continues, blinking at you. You nod, "I understand that. But hey, I think I've got time before I go, we can talk! Besides I've wanted to speak to you for a long time."

Xiao's eyes widen, "..huh? Really?" "Oh, of course! Every time I come on stage, I always try to find you because I know you'll be there. It's sweet, cute really," you respond, taking the water bottle from him. You put it in your bag as Xiao trues to process what you just said.

You look at your phone and realize you should be leaving.

"Ah, Xiao, I'm terribly sorry, but I'll have to go," you turn to said male. He nods quickly and you notice a small smile on his face. "No, it's fine- you wanting to speak to me in the first place is enough," he says, voice growing quieter.

"Aw, alright. Well, how about we meet in one of the cafe's?" You suggest, quickly finding a piecw of paper and a pen, "If you'd want to and if you're not busy." You write down your phone number and give it to him.

Xiao takes it with a shaky hand and you smile at him. "Give me a call if you want, okay?" You take your bag, "If you're not busy tonight, that is." He stares at then at you. You put a hand on his shoulder and whisper, "I'll be waiting, Xiao."

His face heats up as you take his hand to lead him out. You say something to the bodyguard and the two of you are leaving. You look back at Xiao. He's staring at you with a slightly opened mouth, probably in surprise.

You send him a wink and look back. That made him get even redder as he hid his mouth in his hand.

...

He was in his hotel room, staring down at the paper. Well, only a day until you're going somewhere else. This will surely be his last chance to finally talk to you. And in private as well?

After a moment of trying to calm down, Xiao took his phone out. His nails tap on the screen, writing in your number. He was nervous, already feeling lightheaded again. He's gonna talk to you.

Before he can back out, he calls you, putting it on speaker. Each ringing sound made him more anxious. Maybe you joked around? Or maybe you gave him a different one? Well, you wouldn't do that, would you? Surely not-

The ringing suddenly stopped, being replaced with your voice.

"Xiao! You called!" Your voice rang through and he sighs in relief. "So, you're not busy? You'd like to meet up?" You ask and he could tell by your voice that you're definitely smiling.

"Um," he swallows, shaking his head, "Yeah, I'm free. You really want to— you want to talk to me?" "Yes, I do, I already said that, didn't I?" You chuckle. Then you started to speak about which Cafe to meet in and which hotel you're staying at. That's how you arranged a meet up.

He was sitting at one of the tables, nervously tapping the cup with his nails. He was looking around the cafe, waiting for you to show up. While he waited, Xiao took his phone out to post some short clips he took.

You slowly approached the table, sitting in front of him. He jumped at your sudden voice, immediately looking at you. You laugh, shaking your head. Xiao noticed the clothes change, of course, trying to disguise yourself.

"Ah, you didn't think I'd come in a vibrant fit, did you?" You say, smiling at him. He averted his eyes, coughing, "No, I didn't think that-" "Don't want fans to come running," you rest your head on your hand. Xiao looks back at you, "I didn't- I'm sorry, I didn't know if you'd want tea, so I just ordered one for myself."

You blink at him and then nod, "I'll order for myself, don't worry." That's how it went, you got a tea and the two of you chatted. Xiao wasn't too nervous anymore which made you feel better. At some point you speak about his social media. You notice his cheeks flush when you talk about how much you love seeing his updates. Never late.

He himself slipped in some shy compliments about you, all the while you enjoyed the tea. It was relaxing. Until it seemed like the time was over. It passed a little too quickly, so you asked him if he'd want to go to your hotel room, continue the chat.

Xiao was starstruck. You inviting him to your hotel room? This was too much for one day.

He immediately nodded, "Yeah, if I can, I want- we can talk more." You blink, slightly laughing, "You're eager." He goes quiet before chuckling, "My bad-"

..

It was quiet, a few sentences here and there until you both were inside the hotel room. Xiao was looking around the place. You closed the door, breaking the silence, "We can go out on the balcony. The view is nice."

He turned to look at you while you shrugged. You took his hand and he followed you to the balcony door, face warming up.

Cold air brushed against your skin as you walked out, letting go of his hand. You rest your hands on the railing, gazing up. Xiao went next to you, looking down at the streets.

"Look up, pretty," you say. He glances at you before looking in. There were some stars scattered along the sky. It went silent.

Xiao was trying to think of something to say, while sliding his hand towards yours. Your hand was warm and he wanted to feel it again.

Should he even be here? Will he get in trouble for being like this with you? He's just a fan, after all. Idols shouldn't be this close with fans, no? But.. he doesn't care for it. You wanted to talk, so here he is. This is a blessing, why should he question it?

You noticed and you waited. Waited for the touch.

His fingers brushed against yours, eyes darting up to your face. You sighed, looking at him. Xiao's eyes widened, pulling his hand away, but you caught it. He stared at you, then back at his hand then back at you. You smiled softly, interwining your fingers with his.

"If you want to hold my hand, just tell me," you say, watching as his face goes red. You continue to stare. His eyes are pretty. He's pretty. Could you make him more flustered?

He's special. And mad attractive.

Xiao is tearing his gaze every few seconds. When you moved your thumb against his hand, he feels lightheaded once again. Oh, the simple things you do to him.

"By the way, I hope I didn't pressure you into meeting up with me," you speak, turning towards him, "You can always leave if you want-" "No-!" He squeezes your hand, "I didn't want to deny, oh no, I've wanted to talk to you for far too long—" You tilt your head, listening to him.

He shakes his head, "I want to be with you as long as I can, being this close to you is just- [name], you're- Can I call you that?" You can't help but laugh a little, nodding, "Yeah, you can. You talk too much." Before he could respond, you continued, "That's cute. I like it."

His breathing hitches. He's blinking again, looking away from you. Cute?

You pull him a little closer by his hand and lean a little down. He gasps, surprise evident in his expression. "You like being called cute?" You ask, lidding your eyes. "I- I didn't mean to make anything weird, I'm sorry," he quickly speaks, but you shake your head.

"Shh. You didn't make anything weird," you put your other hand on his chin, pulling him closer, "Just answer me." Xiao breathes in, eyes quickly flickering down to your lips, then back to your eyes. He feels the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

"..Maybe?" He whispers, swallowing. Will you call him weird? He certainly doesn't want to be seen as one of your weird fans. He isn't, but when you're so close to his face, he can feel your breath, oh God, you're warm, oh-

You slowly go a little closer, tilting your head just so your lips could brush against his. His eyes are widening again as he tries to not move. "Xiao," you whisper, "You're my biggest fan, aren't you?" He responds with a quiet 'I think?' which makes you chuckle.

"I'd like to give you a little reward for being so supportive all this time," you whisper, "Would you accept it?" Xiao immediately responds, "Y-yes, yes of course!" Oh dear, oh dear oh gorgeous..

You finally kissed him. He almost fell down from the sudden feeling, but you caught him, wrapping your hands around him. Xiao's hands went to your cheeks, kissing you back almost immediately.

When you pulled away for a moment to tell him to part his lips, you saw how flushed his face was, he was already trying to catch his breath even if the kiss wasn't that long. Yes, you didn't lie. He was cute. Wide eyes staring into yours as he nods at your words, going to kiss you again.

He did as you said previously. You pushed your tongue against his, a sudden noise being drowned in the kiss. Xiao's hand moved to your hair, tangling into it, trying to ground himself and not get too lost in the moment.

Oh, did you taste sweet. He never even imagined you could kiss so good. Kiss him so good. It was too much, it made him feel like he was flying — one reason as to why he was tugging on your hair.

After a moment, you pulled away again. "Let's go back inside," you say, smiling at him, "It's getting cold. Won't be good getting sick." Xiao just nods, looking away. You let go of him and he does the same. Walking back inside the warm room, he closes the door. When Xiao turns to you, you're pulling him by his hand towards you.

He's already latching onto your lips, free hand going to your cheek. You kissed back while you lead him to the bed, breaking the kiss to tell him to lay down.

Xiao gets on the bed, looking up at you. You can't help but giggle, getting on top. "Is this okay?" You ask, pushing him down. He nods eagerly, "Yes, yes it is, please don't stop." You nod, leaning down to press a kiss on his neck. You slowly kiss up to his jaw before going back down. One of your hands was on his chest and you could feel how his heart was racing. You then sucked on a spot, making him moan.

His hand goes to his mouth while turning his head away. You sucked a bruise before pulling away, leaving a kiss on it. "Are you embarrassed?" You whisper, pressing more kisses to his skin. Xiao slowly nods, swallowing. Your hand on his chest goes to take his hand away from his mouth.

"Use your words, pretty," you say and suck on another spot. He makes noise, hands going to your sides. "Yes, I'm– You're right-" he mumbles out. You press a kiss on the mark and smile, "Good boy." A shaky sigh comes from his throat.

"Oh?" You pull away to look down at him, "You like that, don't you?" Xiao turns his head, facing you, quietly responding, "Maybe.." "Gosh, you're pretty," you say, "Can I mess you up?" Your boldness makes him raise his eyebrows. "What?"

"Oh, my apologies, that was weird," you glance away, laughing slightly, "I shouldn't say that." "Please," Xiao mumbles and you look at him, "Please do that.."

You stare. He's looking up at you with pleading eyes, breathing in. "Please do whatever you want with me, to me, please," he pulls you back down, blinking at you, "Please, I want you to— I-" He doesn't continue. So you speak.

"You want me to what? Tell me," you trace your finger on his cheek, "Tell me what you've been thinking of this whole time." He's lost for words. But when you look at him like that-

"I want you to touch me," he whispers, shutting his eyes, "Please, I want you to do whatever, please, just fuck me—" "Repeat that a little louder, Xiao," you kiss his cheek. And he does. "I want you to fuck me, [name], please, I need you.."

You gave him a peck on the lips before saying, "Good boy. Wait here a moment, okay? I want you to undress." He nods and you get off the bed. You go to one of your suitcases, opening it up. Xiao was taking his clothing off while time to time watching what you were doing.

After finding what you needed, you turned back to him. His eyes slightly widened. Was that.. Are those.. Why is that in your suitcase in the first place? Why would you carry around a strap in your inventory?

Well, who cares about that now.

You went to put down what you were holding — a strap and a bottle of lube. You got onto the bed, looking at Xiao. He stared at you, then back at the stuff. "C'mon, pretty boy, lay down," you say and he slowly does it.

You spread his legs and he let out a noise of surprise while you opened up the bottle.

Xiao stared as you coated your fingers. You glanced at him for a moment, "You're beautiful like this, you know?" He bit his lip, blinking. "I'm not saying you're not always beautiful, you are," you continue while slowly pushing a finger inside, "But right now you're the prettiest."

He sighs, looking away, "Don't— ah- Don't say that, m-ma'am.." You look at him, pushing another inside, "Ma'am?" Xiao closes his eyes, mumbling something before suddenly moaning.

Yes, that felt weird and he never imagined he'd have something up his ass. That something being your fingers.

You sped them up, smirking at him. He's trying to say something for sure, but his moans interrupt everything. "Shh, don't be too loud, okay?" You slow down and then take your fingers out, "I want you to be good and a little more quiet, got it?" He suppresses a whine before nodding at you.

...

Xiao gripped the sheets under him, burying his face in a pillow. You held his hips, nails digging into his skin, leaving behind half moon indents. His attempts at staying quiet didn't work well.

"Oh, pretty boy," you bring a hand down to his hair, pulling his head up, "Do you love being this loud for me?" He mewls, eyes fluttering open, it being the only response you got. You sigh, picking up the pace, Xiao moaning louder.

Leaning down to his neck, you press a kiss on his shoulder. You then bite down, sucking a mark while your grip on his hair loosens a little. He groans, tongue falling out, "M-ma'am, fuck, I- feels sogood-!"

"Mhm, just like that," you smile, taking your hand away from his hair, "Such a good boy." You wrap your hand around his dick which makes Xiao jolt, head falling downwards.

"W-wait—!" He moans, gasping as his hand goes to grip the pillow, "I'm gonna- [name], I'm gonna cum—!" You just leave kisses on his neck and back, jerking him quicker. His moans turn into whines and gasps.

His grip on the sheets and pillow is tight, drool stains visible. "Gah‐ Stop, wait- I'm- gonnacum, please, fuck—" his voice goes into desperation, his thighs beginning to shake. You smile before speaking, "Go on, cum for me, pretty. Be a good boy, yeah?"

Xiao trembles in your hands, staining your fingers and the sheets below him. You slow down your thrusts and your pace on his dick. You straighten your back, your hand from his hip going to massage his back as he falls down onto the pillow.

He's panting, still slightly shaking. You take your hand away from him, looking at it. You giggle, glancing down at the sweaty Xiao. "You've messed up my hand, that's cute," you say, licking away a few traces. He turns his head a little too see you. Swallowing, he speaks, "You're.. amazing.. Mmh, that was good ..."

You pull out and he collapses. You sit down, slightly chuckling, "Just for you, Xiao." He sighs, closing his eyes, mumbling something. You tilt your head, "I can't hear you." He groans, hiding his face. You get up to lean over him.

"I just pegged you, there's nothing to be embarrassed about," you say, kissing his hair. Xiao turns to look at you again. Oh, did he look messed up. Messy hair, traces of saliva on his chin..

"Um.." He blinks, making eye contact with you, "Thank you.." You smile before kissing him. He kisses back, pretty much melting in your mouth again. After a few seconds you pull away, still smiling at him.

"You're welcome," you whisper, "My best fan needs a little gift after all."

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

Do you ever think about water 7 and remember how many fans (way too many fans...) completely misunderstand Usopp's character and feelings towards Merry and reduce it to "he was only attached because Kaya gave them the ship" and forget that we are explicitly told that he sees himself in Merry and also later on we found out he heard Merry say she wanted to take them further, so we KNOW just how much Usopp saw her as another nakama (I know they all did, but he SAW and heard her first) and no wonder he didnt want to just get rid of her, do you ever remember that and want to cry?

Also I get that Usopp said hurtful things, and went against the captain, but if he hadnt Merry wouldnt have been able to save them... I always feel like Zoro was too rough on Usopp but I don't know, maybe I'm misremebering because Usopp haters always use Zoro's speech to say that Usopp was in the wrong or whatever (and it drives me INSANE ooh 😤 makes my blood boil)

I should rewatch Water 7...

Also unrelated but what are Merry's official pronouns?

Oh boy do I ever think about Water 7. I’ve posted about this before but Usopp’s reasons are numerous and just build on top of each other. Not only is it because of Kaya and seeing the Merry as a crew member and seeing himself in the Merry but it also is because of his own trauma and insecurities and abandonment issues. There’s a lot there and it all exploded out in a messy argument and is just…so sad and emotional and I don’t think anyone in universe (including Usopp himself) have still even know parsed out all of that complexity yet.

I think a lot of fan reaction here is victim to the point of view of the narrative. Luffy is our protagonist and the rest of the main characters are his crew, and that means certain expectations of loyalty. He’s the boss, which means they have to follow his rules. Which, you know, is fair enough: if you want to stay, you follow the rules that the boss sets. However, I think a lot of what actually goes on here is accepted at face value and not considered further critically. While Usopp’s actions here were wrong from the perspective of the hierarchy established on the crew, as well as from a personal standpoint because of some of the things that were said, they were also right from another point of view. Usopp’s argument here was that the Merry was a crew member, as alive as any of the rest of them. And, canonically, he’s fully correct. Luffy’s argument is that the Merry can’t take them further, which is also correct. They were both right, but the communication breakdown also means they were both wrong. And Usopp got most of the blowback because of narrative perspective, and because of the fact that he is not the captain and therefore is not going to receive the same loyalty in decisions that Luffy does.

Zoro is a character that is very much a vehicle for this narrative perspective: he is a strong believer in the ship hierarchy and believes that following it to the letter is not only the morally right thing to do, but also is the only way they will survive the journey to come. Is he right? The narrative certainly seems to direct us to that. But at the end of the day it’s just a certain perspective on how things work. Usopp here went against the loyalty that Zoro holds so dearly (and to Luffy in particular) and therefore Zoro felt it was his duty to set them (and him especially) straight. But again, this is very much from the perspective I mentioned above.

I think examining it further, like I said, shows that both Usopp and Luffy were right, but went wrong in how they communicated how each felt. Luffy may be the boss, and his word may be law in the ship, but I think as the boss he has the added responsibility to deescalate and manage his crew, and communicate to them his expectations clearly. Usopp failed here to control his insecurities and succumbed to them. Luffy here failed in his capacity as a leader in communication and deescalation, especially since he most certainly does not want to be an iron fist type leader. However, I don’t think that element of Luffy’s failure is discussed enough in and out of universe, which is also why I always say that I wish the crew challenged him and his decisions more.

With regards to Merry’s pronouns, I think she/her? I’m unsure though, if anyone can confirm that.

[changbinsboiledegg]

Since we’re all taking a break from being slutty and DEVOURING the comfort fics. Can I request a fic where hyunjin had a really bad day and then reader says something that’s obviously meant to be a joke, or idk buys him the wrong order of food etc but he gets really upset and takes it to heart and starts crying and reader realizes something is definitely wrong because he’s never that sensitive and she gets him to open up to her about how stressed he’s been etc and she just helps him get through the day and feel better.

Also can I be 🩰 anon?

Heyo 🩰 anon! (Yes, you can be 🩰 anon, ily.) I love how y’all’s go to for comfort fics is Hyunjin lmaooo I love it though, he’s such a sweetie so I understand 🥹 I also love how you started this ask LMAOOOOO.

GN! Reader X SKZ Hyunjin

Warnings: Hyunjin has a bad day, he's going THROUGH IT.

Note: I made this gender neutral since I didn’t really use pronouns except for he/him with Hyunjin. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and as always, if no one’s told you today, ilyy! 🫶

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Nothing seemed to go right today.

He woke up late, forgot his phone, so when he went back to get it, he was even more late showing up to practice.

Then at practice, he kept messing up his moves somehow and he knew the other members were getting irritated.

Hyunjin came over to your apartment later that day, wanting to put all of the days stress behind him and be near you, knowing you had always been his peace in times of stress.

Hyunjin immediately called you on his way out after everyone collectively called it a day and decided to pick back up the next day.

“Hey, done already?” You picked up. He could hear the sound of wind coming from your end as you were seemingly outside.

“We… finished early.” Hyunjin didn't want to talk about how his day went. He just wanted to leave and head directly for you. “Can I ask a favor?”

He felt his stomach rumble and realized how hungry he was. Another thing to look forward to, other than seeing you.

Food.

“What is it?” You asked, curious. Hyunjin used his free hand to grip his stomach as he made his way for the front door, leading outside.

The wind on your end had ceased, indicating you were inside.

“Can you order takeout? I'm heading to your apartment, so I will pay you back in cash when I get there.” Hyunjin didn't want to explain that his credit card was paused for some reason.

That was another problem for later. A problem he didn't want to think about at the moment.

“Of course. Don't worry about paying me back.” You didn't hesitate, “I missed you.”

Hyunjin smiled, already feeling his stress diminishing. “I missed you too.”

“Want your regular?” You asked, already having the delivery app open.

“Please. And get yourself something too. It's just me and you tonight.” Hyunjin took a deep breath and started to walk in the direction of your apartment— a path he was familiar with.

“Alright, my angel. I will see you when you get here.” You said, hanging up after he bid you a farewell.

You ordered the food, double checked everything and waited. Luckily, the food arrived before Hyunjin did, so the food would already be ready for him.

When Hyunjin actually arrived, he was relieved to smell the food, his stomach growling hungrily.

“Ah, thank you so much!” Hyunjin shut and locked your front door and sat with you as you separated and passed out the food.

Hyunjin’s heart dropped, seeing the food was definitely not his regular. You hadn't noticed because yours was correct, all the way down to the extras you had added on.

You glanced at Hyunjin, seeing he had gotten the wrong order. You scoffed, shaking your head. “damnit… who did you piss off at the takeout spot today?”

Hyunjin paused, a look of hurt flashed across his face and he looked at you.

“No one! I didn't ‘piss’ anyone off! I didn't do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, his eyes welling up before the tears came rushing down his cheeks.

“Why does everyone think I did something wrong?!” Hyunjin cried, his hands flying to cover his face as he cried harder than you’ve ever seen him cry before.

Your expression had a look of concern to it, pushing your food aside and moving to wrap your arms around him in a comforting gesture.

“Hey, hey, I was only joking… what happened? Why are you crying?” You asked, rubbing his back and immediately feeling guilty.

Hyunjin didn't speak for a while, just crying his eyes out in your arms.

When he eventually pulled away from you, he wiped his eyes and face with his sleeves as his own guilt sank in for snapping at you for your joke and the wrong order.

“It's been a bad day.” Hyunjin started off. You weren't sure if he was going to elaborate more on that or not, but you didn't rush him and instead, you were very patient as he collected his thoughts.

“It started when I woke up late. Then during practice, I kept messing up. I think the guys are mad at me.” Hyunjin sniffled, staring at the wrong order of food. You listened intently, letting him open up to you all while gently rubbing his back.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you.” Hyunjin continued, “it’s just that I was relying on something to make today better and being with you did, but I was also very hungry and seeing it was wrong, well…”

You nodded understandingly. “Added to your series of misfortunes.”

Hyunjin laughed a little, relieving you as you worried that joke would make him cry again.

“Yeah. And when you said I pissed someone off, maybe I did get a little too defensive.” Hyunjin closed his tired eyes from crying. You frowned, hearing how your joke hurt him.

“I'm so sorry, I was only joking. I know you didn't piss anyone off or do anything to deserve the day you just had.” You spoke in a soothing voice, pulling him into your arms again.

Hyunjin leaned into your arms, the stress diminishing again. He felt silly for getting so upset over a wrong order and a joke.

“You’re allowed to be frustrated, my love.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head that was leaned against your shoulder.

And Hyunjin smiled, needing to hear those words.

“Tomorrow will be better.” You added, reaching for your phone. “But so will tonight. I'm getting you your correct order.”

[decepti-thots]

On the topic of pronouns in a gay way, as a fellow it pronoun user, is there anyone in the TF cast you think would see using them too? Personally, I can see Shockwave.

god i wish i had a specific post to hand bc i made a post a while back about the idea that post-canon idw cybertronian norms would default to it/its, since 'he/him' would cease to be the neutral option once Gender TM got reintroduced and that got retroactively gendered, in the context of all of idw's.... stuff. I still stand by it. apparently didn't tag it. damn past me. ANYWAY.

you know i think soundwave would love it/its pronouns regardless of gender, they feel like an equalizer in a way i feel like he would respect and appreciate. he's an ideologically driven character (in idw); he'd be the person earnestly but misguidedly advocating for gender neutral pronouns for all, yknow? i think soundwave would like it/its for non-gender reasons. he just thinks it would solve so many problems. (he's not totally correct, but he's earnest.)

i also think actually, idw magnus in his role AS magnus might like it/its pronouns specifically because they seem like something where he is being treated as an Ideal TM. as More Than Himself. you know? call the magnus facade he's keeping up 'it' and he likes it. as ultra magnus, he's It. now, the fact he also happens to have the sort of interpersonal drama as minimus going on that makes one say 'hmmm that's Pretty Trans', at the same time he happens to be doing some weird pronoun stuff. well don't ask him about it because he'll implode lmao. he won't admit to anything, because he thinks he is being interrogated. but perhaps he has some Thoughts. he only wants this as long as it fits his narrative, but maybe it's one step along the way.

and finally, i think if rung survived the end of lost light, he'd remember that once upon a time he very much liked being called 'it' as the progenitor of the species. and it would be very hard after a post-everything life of being dehumanised and demeaned to remember why, exactly, he did. but perhaps he would in time. i think rung pre-everything, as primus, is this, and would want to one day come back to this:

-and i like to think that would be a good representation of how many cybertronians talk about Primus that Rung would like.

[sirhyst]

fukuzawa x shy!child!reader

Note: f/l means ‘first language’. There aren’t that many Japanese words scattered here but I’ll leave translations at the end. My Japanese Isn’t very good, as I’m still at a beginner level so some of the phrasing will be a little rough, please bear with me 🙃

Summary: Fukuzawa offers to teach you Japanese, but because you refuse to speak to him he’s worried you’re not retaining anything he’s taught you.

Pronouns used: none

————————————————————————-

“Try saying これ,” Fukuzawa said whilst sitting beside you. You gave him a blank stare, not daring to move out of fear.

It was not that you didn’t speak, you were simply incredibly shy—and the stone faced man in front of you did not help your case.

Fukuzawa had offered to teach you Japanese, and it would’ve been much easier to tell if you were learning anything, if you would speak to him. By now you had moved on from learning Kana, and shockingly progressed to actual phrases.

He didn’t know (your language) very well, but he noticed you understood when he spoke slowly in Japanese and pointed at objects, so communication wasn’t impossible.

“Can you write it for me,” he said, trying not to let out a sigh in frustration. You silently picked up the pencil and wrote out the Hiragana characters with ease.

This carried on for a few hours. Fukuzawa telling you to repeat something, you mirroring his own empty stare, and resulting to writing the word instead.

Perhaps feeding you would make you like him, he thought to himself. Running out of ideas to convince you that he was not a threat, he left the room to get your coat. He could practically feel your gaze follow him out of the front room.

When he returned he peeked over your shoulder to find you writing full sentences, which comforted him a bit.

“Come,” he said in the most gentle tone he could muster, “why don’t we get lunch,” he looked at you, silently praying that you at least understood ‘lunch’. When you nodded, he released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

On your way to the small cafe, about 10 minutes from Fukuzawa’s home, he tried to make light conversation with you or pointing at different objects saying they’re respected names in Japanese. There was some progress being made, instead of staring at him you at least nodded or shook your head.

When you both arrived, the head server greeted you, before leading you both to a small table near the windows. He dropped to menus, with a package of crayons and paper.

“For the little one,” He said with a small smile.

Fukuzawa looked over the small menu, settling for a slice of cheesecake.

“What are you getting,” he asked softly, expecting you to stare at him. You shrugged your shoulders before continuing to look.

The server returned, admittedly making you jump from his sudden appearance.

Fukuzawa repeated his order before both turned to you. You parted your lips slightly, trembling feeling the adults staring down at you. Fukuzawa was prepared to chime in, when we sighed.

『ぷりんとまんじゅ、おねがいします。』you said in a trembling, but audible voice. You looked at Fukuzawa and searched his face for approval. Even Fukuzawa, known for his ever constant poker-face, couldn’t help but let the shock wash over his face. Once he fully recovered, he nodded letting a small smile to grace his face. The server nodded before returning to the kitchen.

“Very good,” Fukuzawa said quietly, as if if he had raised his voice it would scare you. You didn’t raise your head to look him in the eye, but a small thank you could be heard among the the white noise in the cafe. Deciding that that was enough talking for the day, you silently waited for your food to come.

———————————————————————

Translations: again my Japanese isn’t perfect please correct me I’m wrong!!

これ: this

Breakdown of: 『ぷりんとまんじゅ、おねがいします。』

ぷりん: Purin (Japanese dessert)

と: and

まんじゅ: Manju (Red Bean Cakes)

おねがいします: onegaishimasu (please)

note: another source said you could also use ください (Kudasai)

『』: double quotation marks

、: comma

。:period/full stop

Love this old guy 😔✊

[jebewonmorelike]

Dark Blue On You

wc: 7k (HAHAHA WHAT) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: swearing, angsty with a happy ending but its funny/fluffy too, mentions of others drinking, mentions of hooking up; think pg-13 for this one; also taerae in that suit should be a warning in and of itself warnings for spicy cut scene: MINORS DNI!!!-- mature/suggestive/smut themes-- MINORS SKIP THIS CUT SCENE AND CONTINUE READING BELOW IT!!! (fic makes perfect sense without it) linked here and linked in fic for correct placement in story summary: bestfriend!reader is so excited when the star of the soccer team finally asks them to prom. but when losercore!taerae asks his lab partner to prom out of the blue, reader's sudden jealousy takes them by surprise... basically the prom-themed best friends to lovers of your dreams, okay? okay :) ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ GUYS! HI! it's been so long. i missed you! this was 7,000 words (plus the cut scene) so i'm sorry but that's why it took so long. was also feeling a bit rundown in terms of writing so i really needed to pace myself. but i saw those pictures of taerae in that suit and i swear to god i'm a different person now, so this is the fic you get from that brainrot. also not sure if the suit was actually blue, but that's how it looked in the pics so i ran with it. SO many fun things happening in the zb1 world in the past few days! let me know what you think of this one :) love you sm

“If you steal one more of my sweet potato fries (Y/N), I swear I’m gonna--.”

You pop the orange-colored french fry into your mouth, grinning at Taerae smugly. “You’re gonna what?”

Eyes narrowed at you through dorky, wire-framed glasses, your best friend pouts annoyedly. “One day you’ll fear my wrath.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” you respond with a giggle. Despite his angry demeanor, Taerae turns his lunch tray so that the sweet potato fries are now facing you-- giving you easier access to one of your favorite snacks.

“You could just go back up and get your own, you know,” he persists with his performance even as he squeezes more ketchup onto his tray for you to dip the fries in. “What would you do without me?”

“Sarcastic answer: finally achieve a peaceful existence,” you joke, popping another fry into your mouth. “Serious answer... I’d be lost without you.”

You watch as Taerae’s glasses fog up a bit; the way they always did when he received a compliment or you were being a bit too sincere with him. He takes them off quickly, clearing his throat as he wipes the lenses with the hem of his polo shirt.

A pile of books slam down onto your lunch table as your friend Dohyun plops onto the bench beside you. “(Y/N)! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“Do you ever talk to anyone else?” You quip, earning a glare from the skinny boy.

“I talk to Taerae hyung, too,” he mumbles. You glance at your best friend, noticing how quiet he’s gotten all of a sudden. “And I like him better than you anyway.”

You shrug. “That makes two of us.”

“What I was going to ask you is,” Dohyun starts; pulling out his lunchbox from his backpack and opening it up. “Has Ryan asked you to prom yet?”

Taerae audibly gulps from across the table. You frown at him, wondering why he’s acting so weird.

“No,” you answer softly. “He hasn’t. And I definitely don’t think he’s going to anymore.”

“I don’t know what you saw in Ryan anyway,” Dohyun says, shaking his head disapprovingly. “He only wanted one thing from you.”

Taerae chokes on his apple juice suddenly and you take the carton from his hand-- placing it back on the table pointedly as he coughs into his elbow. 

“That’s enough, Dohyun,” you scold. “And for the record, I’m as pure as the day you met me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the younger boy laughs. “So… Are you gonna go to prom alone, or?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I already bought my outfit. I had it altered to fit perfectly, so I don’t really think I can return it at this point.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Taerae says finally. “I know you were really looking forward to going with Ryan. He’s gonna regret not asking you. But um...”

Your brow furrows as you wait for Taerae to continue his sentence. He’s looking at you kind of funny now-- eyes wide and anxious.

“Well, if you already have an outfit and stuff, I was thinking that... Um...” You watch curiously as he bends over to his side and begins shuffling through his backpack. “Fuck, where is it?”

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Someone suddenly calls behind you. Your head whips around to find Ryan walking towards your lunch table, his signature charming smirk on his lips. He’s carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder for soccer practice as he lands in front of you.

“Hi Ryan,” you greet sweetly, brain turning to mush. You’d first met the star of the soccer team officially when your Math teacher assigned you to tutor him a few months ago. He’d been in serious jeopardy of being kicked off the team for his failing grades, but with an hour of tutoring every other day, you’d helped him climb back up to a solid C+. The afternoon he received his first unit test grade since you’d started tutoring him, he had been thrilled to see B- circled in red at the top of the page... 

So thrilled, in fact, that he’d kissed you at your back corner table in the library.

And he’d kept kissing you. For the rest of that tutoring session... And then the one after that... And the one after that... And the one after that until your meetings had become more of a hybrid tutoring-and-make-out session.

That had been the extent of your “relationship” though. He was always busy with soccer and his meathead friends and ogling popular girls at the library tables next to you when your faces weren’t connected.

But he was the first boy to ever pay attention to you like this-- and he was so handsome to boot. The attention and the fantasy muddied every intelligent and rational thought in your brain. Even if you were being used, you weren’t really ready for it to stop.

One day as you were approaching the library, you stopped in your tracks as you heard Ryan’s voice around the corner. He was talking to one of his jock friends and you held your breath as you attempted to hear their conversation.

“All of the cheerleaders already have dates, dude,” Ryan’s friend relays. “Why did you wait so long?”

Ryan was silent for a moment before responding, “Even Steph?”

“Even Steph,” his friend confirmed. “Injun asked her yesterday.”

“Damnit.”

“Well, you’ve gotta go with somebody,” his friend urged. “Tyler’s parents are letting us use their lake house for the after party, so... Who’re you gonna ask!?”

“I’ll... I’ll find somebody,” Ryan responded and you heard the door to the library begin to squeak open.

“Hopefully somebody that’s gonna put out,” his friend joked and Ryan laughed along.

It was from that moment that you’d gotten it in your head that there was a chance that Ryan might ask you to prom. You’d gone shopping with your mom to pick out the perfect outfit, booked an appointment to get your hair styled for the occasion, and called a florist to purchase a boutonniere to pin on Ryan’s suit that matched your outfit.

As you’d doodled your name next to Ryan’s in your journal and decorated it with hearts one evening last week, your best friend Taerae laid on your bed-- legs dangling off the side as he strummed his guitar.

“(Y/N)...” He sang suddenly in an improvised melody. “Put down your pen... It’s getting annoying... So please tell me when...”

You turned around and glared at him, but he continued.

“You’ll stop your obsession... With that asshole named Ryan... He hasn’t even asked you to prom yet, what if he doesn’t ask you, your heart is gonna break and I’m gonna have to pick up the pieces and glue them all together again and--.”

“None of that rhymed.”

“Lyrics don’t have to rhyme for them to hold meaning,” Taerae responded, arms flopping onto the bed in a T-position dramatically. “I���m worried about you. I think this guy might be taking advantage of you.”

“At least someone wants to,” you joked, but the levity didn’t quite reach your voice. Taerae sat up abruptly; eyes fixing on you for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and pulled his guitar strap over his head-- placing the instrument beside him. 

“A lot of people want to take advantage of you, (Y/N).”

Your jaw dropped as you watched Taerae realize what he just said. He’d already begun shaking his head and waving his arms about profusely by the time a smile crept onto your face.

“NOT WHAT I MEANT!” He shouted frantically and the sheer panic on his face was enough to make you burst out laughing. At the sound of your laughter, Taerae couldn’t help but grin and the appearance of his deep dimples was admittedly comforting to you. “You already knew that’s not what I meant but... I’m just trying to tell you he’s not the only guy that likes you.”

Your brow furrowed curiously. “Who else likes me?”

“Oh, uh,” Taerae stuttered nervously, averting your gaze. “Lots of guys. Other guys. Girls, too, probably. And nonbinary folk, I’m sure.”

You nodded, unconvinced. “Well all of those other people are gonna have to fight Ryan for my attention, I guess.”

Taerae gulped. “Right.”

“Now shut up, loser,” you said, spinning back around in your desk chair. “I’m trying to name me and Ryan’s fourth child.”

Now as Ryan stands in front of you, he glances at your only two friends that are also sitting at your lunch table. “Hey nerds.”

Taerae mumbles something under his breath but you aren’t paying him any attention. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7, yeah?” Ryan asks suddenly, nodding at you.

Your lips part slightly in confusion. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” he responds brusquely. “Prom.”

“You--... We--... Us? Prom?” You know that gibberish is falling out of your mouth, but your ability to form a coherent sentence has flown out the window.

Ryan gives you an impatient smile. Of course he has every right to be impatient, you think. I can’t even speak well enough to answer his question. “Yeah. Text me your address.”

“We were actually gonna take photos at (Y/N)’s house beforehand,” Dohyun interjects.

Ryan frowns. “Oh. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you; you don’t have to if you don’t want to!” You say quickly, grinning up at the tall boy.

“Nah, that’s cool. I’ll be there. See you then,” Ryan says with a smile before taking off towards the other end of the cafeteria. His smile is enough to burst your heart-- but lucky for you (and your poor friends), you’re able to muster up enough strength to keep living.

Instead, you merely scream; keeping your mouth closed to muffle the sound. When you finally return to the world around you, you suddenly notice how silent your friends are. 

“What?” You ask, frowning at Dohyun. “Why aren’t you guys excited?”

You turn to Taerae, who is holding a large piece of folded up paper in his hands. “What’s that?”

Snatching it from his hands, Taerae immediately lunges across the table in a panic to grab it back from you. Dohyun also swoops in to steal the paper, but both of their efforts are in vain as you swivel around to face the opposite direction and open what appears to be a poster.

🌸🌺🌸 Will you go to prom with me? 🌸🌺🌸

“OH MY GOD!” You squeal, whipping back around to face your best friend. He rips the poster from your hands and begins folding it back up, cheeks turning red. “You’re asking someone to prom!? WHO!?”

“Oh thank god: you’re an idiot,” Dohyun mumbles, sinking back into his seat.

Your brow furrows confusedly. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Taerae answers quickly. “No one said anything.”

“Taerae, if you don’t tell me who you’re asking to prom right now, I swear I’m gonna--.”

“MOLLY!” He shouts suddenly, eyes wide as he stares over your shoulder. You turn around to follow his gaze, spotting Taerae’s lab partner, Molly, a few tables behind you. She smiles when she hears Taerae call her name, getting up from her seat and walking over to your table.

“Hi Taerae,” she greets cheerfully, curly short hair bouncing with every step. The very smart, but sometimes obnoxious girl is blinking at your best friend nervously... Holy shit. Had Molly had a crush on Taerae this whole time and you hadn’t noticed?

More importantly... Had Taerae had a crush on her?

“Hi Molly, um... I was wondering,” he starts; his delivery of this promposal a little unprepared. That’s weird, you think. If Taerae was gonna ask someone out, I’m sure he would’ve rehearsed it in the mirror until he lost his voice…

“Dude,” Dohyun interrupts suddenly, eyes wide as he looks at Taerae.

Taerae just ignores him, clearing his throat and starting again; unfolding his poster onto the table once more. “I was wondering, actually, if you’d maybe like to possibly-- and no pressure or anything, maybe someone’s already asked you, but...”

“OH MY GOD! Of course I’ll go to prom with you,” Molly exclaims, throwing her arms around Taerae. You watch as he freezes, never one for accepting public affection from anyone he didn’t know well...

From anyone except you.

You frown at the bizarrely jealous thought. Taerae obviously liked this girl. Just last week, he’d been complaining about her chewing too loud in the computer lab, but maybe he was just trying to cover up his real feelings. Taerae deserved to be happy. 

Any boy that would make a whole poster just to ask someone to prom deserved to be happy. You sigh as you study the poster in front of you. I wish Ryan had made me a poster...

As Taerae starts to fold it back up, you notice some surrounding doodles that you had been too distracted to see before. All around the border of the poster are what appear to be light pink Royal Azaleas.

Your favorite flower. 

Had Taerae really used your favorite flower to decorate his promposal for someone else? How could he?

“Stop it!” You say out loud, earning a weird look from all three of the people surrounding you. You smile awkwardly, trying to laugh off your unintentional angry outburst at your own thoughts. “I mean... Stop being so cute you guys!”

Molly grins. “Text me where to meet you tomorrow! I can’t wait.”

Taerae nods quickly as Molly skips back to her own lunch table. As soon as she’s gone, he lets out a huge sigh and you hear the clamoring of his glasses as his head falls to the table.

“But this is amazing, Tae,” you say, staring at the top of Taerae’s head as his forehead rests on the surface of the lunch table. He lifts up for a second, folding his arms and laying his right cheek back down on top of them. His hair falls messily in his eyes, unkempt and fluffy as it usually is. But the sudden urge to brush it out of his face takes you by surprise. “I didn’t know you were going to ask Molly to prom today.”

Dohyun snorts from beside you, now totally engrossed in the game he’s playing on his phone:

“Neither did he.”

~~~

“(Y/N), come down here! We need to take pictures before you leave,” your mother calls from downstairs. “We’re gonna head outside so please hurry up and join us!”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, anxiety building. Nearly everything about your appearance for tonight is perfect-- your hair, your skin, your outfit; even your shoes. Your friends and family are in your front yard waiting for you.

But all you can think about is how Ryan hasn’t shown up yet.

You’d texted him your address. Told him what time to come over. And now he’s already thirty minutes late. You’d have to leave soon to get to the school on time. 

“Where is he?” You whisper to yourself, grabbing your phone from your bed and checking your notifications again. Nothing.

“(Y/N), if you don’t get your ass down here right now!” The voice that’s calling you now is Taerae’s. His threat is angry enough that it makes you move-- opening the door to your room and walking to the top of the stairs. 

Taerae is furiously typing on his phone as you make your way down the stairs, his back turned to you. He’s wearing a dark blue suit-- slim-fitting and tailored to him perfectly. When you reach the second to last step, you clear your throat.

Your best friend looks up at you now, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. His hair is pushed back, still fluffy but out of his face. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking that he looks very handsome. You blink away the thought as you continue to study Taerae-- eventually realizing that something is missing.

“No glasses?” You ask, waiting for him to respond. When he doesn’t, you prompt him again. “Taerae?”

“Oh, uh,” he begins to reply finally, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. “Yeah, just for tonight. My mom... thought it would look nice.”

“Your mom is right,” you say, smiling softly at him. “She usually is though.”

“You’re perfect,” Taerae says suddenly; eyebrows shooting up when he realizes what he just said. “I mean, you look perfectly ready to go and take pictures! And then go to prom. And stuff. You know? Like, you look perfect. Well--... You--... Um--...”

He’s rambling now and you don’t blame him. Your whole lives, you and Taerae had maintained a friendship without most pleasantries a normal friendship might have. Your affection towards each other usually came in the form of play-fighting, insults, sharing sweet potato fries at lunch, and other subtle acts of service. Only when one of you was having a particularly hard day would the other offer a hug or hand to hold or words of affirmation. You and Taerae were so close that normal affection usually seemed pretty arbitrary. 

So this compliment from Taerae, even if it was unintentional is... different.

You swallow hard, averting your best friend’s gaze. “So do you.”

Brushing past him, you open the front door and step out onto your porch-- Taerae following behind you after a moment. You check your phone again for any texts from Ryan.

“He’s a prick, (Y/N),” Taerae says softly, as you continue to stare at your phone screen-- willing your eyes not to water. “Don’t let him ruin this for you. This was all your idea. You wanted to go to prom. You wanted to take pictures beforehand. Why are you letting this guy totally fuck up your night?”

Your eyes meet Taerae’s. He’s right and you know it. Ryan couldn’t care less about you and it was evident in the way he’d asked you (or rather, told you that you were going with him) to prom-- and the way he hadn’t shown up on time to your house. In fact, the whole day you’d been consumed by two feelings: the first being obsession over whether or not Ryan would like your outfit, your hair, your parents, your house...

The second being that deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you were filled with regret about your fixation these past couple of months on the soccer star. Even Taerae had made a nice poster for Molly. Not that he’d even bothered to tell you that he was asking her. And not that you cared what Taerae did or didn’t do for people he liked.

Right?

“Tae, I--.”

“Taerae!” A chipper voice calls from around the corner. Molly appears at the bottom of the porch steps, motioning for your best friend to come down. “Come take pictures! You too, (Y/N). Just because your prom date’s a bust, doesn’t mean you can steal mine!”

Your jaw drops slightly in shock. “I wasn’t--... That’s not--...”

“Chop, chop!” Molly says, walking back over to where all of your parents are standing-- Dohyun in the middle of them, talking their ears off. 

Not wanting any more accusations being hurled at you on your own property, you give Taerae a quick shrug before following her out onto the lawn.

~

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Ryan’s red sports car now as he parks in the school lot. He’d finally shown up two minutes before you were about to have to hop into Taerae’s car and ride in the backseat behind him and his date. Your mom, who was making no attempt to hide her displeasure, was able to snap a quick few photos of you before you left.

Ryan turns off the car, stuffing his keys in his right pocket before leaning back again into his seat. He’s staring at you and you’re not really sure how to respond. You reach for the door latch, but you feel his hand touch your left arm before you can open it.

You identify the look in his eyes right away-- he wants to kiss you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t kissed Ryan in over a week. You’d been busy with an essay and had to cancel your “tutoring sessions”. Usually, the idea would excite you. But tonight, it almost made your stomach turn.

A knock on your window startles you and you look over to find Taerae smiling at you-- more than a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

Ryan rolls down your window. “Dude, what are you--?”

“(Y/N) really wants to go to prom with you,” he replies, opening your door for you. You hop out immediately, grateful for the interference. “So you can save whatever you’re gonna do for later.”

You don’t look back at Ryan, walking as quickly as you can towards the front doors of the school. Eventually, Ryan, Taerae and Molly all catch up to you as you walk through the entranceway.

A beautiful balloon arch greets you as you enter the gym, fairy lights and vintage streamers lining every inch of the walls. It’s exactly as you’d imagined-- the prom of your dreams.

“JORDAN!” Ryan shouts suddenly from behind you, almost knocking you down as he runs to greet one of his stupid jock friends. 

You start to fall, but a pair of hands are already on your shoulders to keep you upright. “Thanks,” you mumble as Taerae pushes you through the balloon arch and towards the open floor.

“Where do you wanna sit, Taerae?” Molly asks, smiling at him expectantly. “I’m sure (Y/N) is gonna go sit with Ryan.”

You glance back to where Ryan had run off to, finding him completely surrounded by his many popular friends. You turn back to Molly and Taerae, forcing yourself to nod. 

“You should sit with us,” Taerae says, the pity in his eyes growing more embarrassing every minute. You aren’t going to ruin his night with Molly. You just couldn’t do that to your best friend.

Shaking your head, you try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“(Y/N)...”

“You guys have fun! I’ll see you in a bit,” you call, wandering off to a table in the opposite corner. Once you take your seat, it’s as if you’ve been glued to it permanently.

You watch all of your peers rush to the dance floor, laugh together, embrace each other... Not once does Ryan ever come find you. But you know deep down that you sort of deserve it. How had you been so obsessed with one boy asking you to prom and ended up being the only person here having such a miserable time?

You should never have come. Or you should have come alone. Or with Taerae.

Taerae...

Your eyes rest on your best friend, who is sitting with Molly at their table. He’s leaning back comfortably in his chair; navy blue suit contrasting perfectly with his light olive skin. His smile is bright and pretty-- why the hell does he look so pretty tonight? 

Is he having fun with Molly? Is he thinking about me?

Almost as if he’s heard your thought, Taerae’s eyes meet yours. The smile on his face instantly fades to an expression of concern and you hate it. You want him to smile at you like he was just smiling at Molly. 

But why would he smile at you like that? He likes Molly.

Not you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you look at the screen to find a message from Taerae.

Are you okay??

You look back up at him, deciding to nod and give him a thumbs up-- hoping for that dimpled smile to return to his face. It doesn’t.

(Y/N), please just come over here You’re breaking my heart

Learning that you sitting alone in a corner is ruining Taerae’s prom experience is not what you needed to hear. Pressing your lips together awkwardly, you nod slowly at him; starting to stand up from your chair to go talk to him for a bit.

But you stop in your tracks when you watch Molly grab Taerae’s hand and pull him up out of his chair. She’s trying to tug him towards the dance floor-- his eyes widening in panic as they remain locked on you.

You wave him on, trying your best to smile at him. You feel your lip quiver and you hope he doesn’t notice from the other end of the gym. Taerae reluctantly stops resisting Molly and joins her on the dance floor after giving you another regretful look.

“Heyyyy (Y/N),” a voice slurs in your ear now, an arm wrapping around you from behind. You look up to find Ryan, smiling goofily back at you. He’s piss drunk, of course.

“Hi,” you say shortly, attempting to wiggle out of his hold but the alcohol hasn’t lessened his strength. “Can you let go, please?”

“Why would I do that?” He asks rhetorically, tequila coating his breath. “You’re my date.”

“Am I?” You spit, finally breaking free of his grip. “I couldn’t tell.”

He frowns. “What do you want? Do you want to dance or something? We can dance.”

“I want to go home,” you respond, glaring at him. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

With that, you’re walking past Ryan and through the balloon arch out of the gym. It’s not until you’re standing in the hallway that you hear a set of footsteps following you.

You turn around to find Ryan standing behind you, a small silver flask in hand. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home,” he answers, unscrewing the top off the flask and taking a sip. “You said you wanted to go home.”

“Are you kidding me?” You ask, eyes wide with shock. “You’re drunk. You’re not getting behind the wheel like this.”

He shrugs. “I’m really good at it! I do it all the time.”

“Holy shit,” you whisper, shaking your head at him in awe. “You fucking suck, you know that?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, jaw setting in anger. “You’ve ignored me all night. You didn’t show up at my house on time to take pictures. You tried to skip prom to makeout with me in your car. Not to mention, you didn’t even ask me to prom. You told me yesterday that you would pick me up tonight. And now you want to drive me home and you can’t even stand up straight!?

Ryan stares at you for a long moment before the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “Are you playing hard to get?”

You sigh exasperatedly. “You already got me! I was literally eating out of your palm for two whole months. I can’t believe I let myself be so stupid... Now I never want to see you ever again!”

He frowns. “It’s because of that Taeri kid, isn’t it?”

“What? No, no--...” It’s at that moment that you look back into the gym, spotting your best friend dancing with his date. He looks so stupid; he might even be the worst dancer you’ve ever met. So why does the sight of him make your heart swell? “His name’s Taerae. And he’s my best friend. That apparently likes someone else and never told me.”

You turn back to Ryan to find him staring back at you, wide-eyed. “Damn,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re in love with your weird friend.”

“I am not!” You protest, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “And he’s not weird, he’s just... Okay, yeah he’s weird. But the good kind of weird.”

“Wow. Denial much?” He says, laughing.

Your brow furrows curiously. “Why are you so okay with this? Weren’t you just asking me if I was playing hard to get?”

“It’s cool. You guys would probably make a better match anyway,” he responds with a shrug. “Plus I already hooked up with Steph in the bathroom, so I’m all set for the night if I have to be.”

You sigh, shaking your head in awe of the absolute dickhead standing in front of you. Turning on your heel and walking towards the exit doors, you mumble, “Goodnight, Ryan.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he calls after you, far too cheerily. “Tell him! Or that girl’s gonna snatch him right up. Have you seen the way she’s been looking at him all night?”

Yeah. I have.

~

It had been a decent night for Taerae. Molly had turned out to be a good enough prom date. They talked about their science project most of the night, but he hadn’t really known what else to say. Besides, he was far too distracted to have any sort of real conversation when he’d been keeping at least one eye on you the whole night.

The pain he felt watching you sit alone at an empty table-- scrolling through your phone, tears rolling down your cheek periodically when you thought no one was watching you.

But Taerae was watching you. How could he not be when the most beautiful person in the room was his best friend?

Of course the one time he’d taken his eyes off you, you’d gone missing.

So far, he’d checked the buffet table, the photobooth, the hallway... He’d even knocked on the bathroom door (and received a very annoyed response from whoever was inside). But you were nowhere to be found.

That’s when he spots Ryan. The star of the soccer team is sitting down at the end of the bathroom hallway, back leaned against a locker. Taerae runs up to him frantically, smelling the liquor on his breath from six feet away.

“Where’s (Y/N)!?” Taerae shouts, shaking Ryan’s shoulders when he doesn’t answer.

The tall boy groans. “How should I know?”

“Because (Y/N)’s your date?  Don’t you have any idea where your fucking date is!?”

“Jesus, chill out. This is why I said you were weird,” Ryan mumbles, slurring his words. “(Y/N) went home already.”

“What?” Taerae asks, mind racing. “Did you say something? Did you do something? Did you put your hands on--?”

“Probably, yeah. I don’t remember,” he responds, pointing up at Taerae. “But I thought (Y/N) was gonna tell you. I said to tell you so that that girl... doesn’t...”

Before he can finish his entirely incoherent sentence, Ryan has slumped over onto his side and fallen asleep. 

“Tell me what?” Taerae asks; attempting to shake him awake. But it’s no use. “For christ’s sake...”

He turns around, about to run back towards the gym, but instead he comes face to face with his own prom date.

“Oh, Molly, I--,” he starts, but the girl in front of him cuts him off quickly.

“Go,” she says simply, the knowing smile on her face confirming to Taerae that she’s well aware of what’s going on. “Go get (Y/N).”

Taerae sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. This is not cool of me at all.”

“No, it’s not,” Molly says with a laugh. “But I knew you liked (Y/N) the whole time. Once Dohyun opens his mouth, it’s hard to get him to shut it.”

Taerae smiles. “I always knew Dohyun would spill all my secrets one day.”

Molly shrugs. “It’s okay actually. Because tonight made me realize I kind of like Dohyun way more than you anyway. He’s more my type. He actually laughs at my chemistry jokes.”

“Oh, uh,” Taerae falters, eyebrows raising in shock. Dohyun? More her type? Taerae didn’t know that Dohyun was anyone’s type. Not that Taerae thought he was anyone’s type either. “Yeah, I guess I’m more of a biology guy.”

Molly hums. “Do you think you could put in a good word for me then?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure.”

“No hard feelings, then?” Molly asks, smiling up at him.

“No, none at all, I guess,” Taerae agrees-- though the entirely absurd thought of someone using him to get to Dohyun is still eating away at the back of his brain. “You’re okay if I leave now? Do you have a ride home?”

Molly nods happily. “I’ll see you on Monday! Don’t forget the Chapter 13 exam,” she says, walking back down the hallway towards the gym.

 “And tell me how it goes with (Y/N)!”

~

You’re face down on your bed, having flopped there in a puddle of tears as soon as you’d gotten home and changed into your pajamas. Your dad had picked you up and you’d driven home in uncomfortable silence apart from your quiet sniffling. You’re currently subsisting on an entirely separate plane of existence-- one with excessive tears and nothing else.

But a rattling at your window startles you, causing you to jump up to see what’s making the sound. You’re even more startled when you realize that the sound is actually that of Taerae fiddling with the latch on your window frame.

You run to the window, unlocking the latch and pushing it open. You whisper-shout at your idiotic best friend, “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Remember when I used to do this when I lived next door? Before we moved?” He replies, completely out of breath and barely managing to hang onto the vines of ivy running down the side of your house. 

“Taerae, you moved when we were ten years old! You weighed at least 30 kilograms less than you do now. Are you crazy!?” Grabbing onto his arms and pulling him through the window, he lands with an ungracious thud on your bedroom floor.

“Huh,” he says, panting to catch his breath as he lies flat out on his back on your beige carpet. “I used to be in really good shape then. Maybe I should start working out.”

You sit down next to him, your back leaning against the side of your bed. You look at the right leg of his suit pants, finding a wet spot on the knee. He must’ve fallen before he successfully climbed up to your window.

He looks just as pretty lying here like this as he had all night-- only now, he looks a bit more like the Taerae you were used to. His hair had fallen into his eyes a bit more and he must’ve switched out his contact lenses for his glasses on his way here. Maybe your best friend had always been this beautiful... Maybe you’d just never taken the time to notice before.

Your eyes widen suddenly. “Taerae, what are you doing here? Where’s Molly?”

He sighs annoyedly. “Ask Dohyun.”

“What?” You ask, brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

You frown. “Prom isn’t even over yet. Why did you leave?”

“Because Ryan told me you left,” he answers, finally sitting up to look at you. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, you could’ve texted me,” you respond, looking around you for your phone.

Taerae points to your desk and you turn to see your phone sitting on the corner of it. “You weren’t answering.”

“Oh,” you say softly, eyes falling to your lap. “I guess I wasn’t.”

“Look at me,” Taerae requests suddenly and you reluctantly oblige. You know you must look absolutely insane. Hair out of place, eyes red and puffy and face blotchy from crying. He smiles at you sadly again, just like he had been the whole night. “I know you’re not okay. You can be upset. You know I won’t judge you.”

His words are all you need for the tears to start flowing again. In less than a second, Taerae’s arms have wrapped around you; holding you tightly in his embrace. It’s comforting, but at the same time it’s not. Not if he knew the real reason you’d been crying so much.

“He doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N),” he says, hand finding its way to the back of your head to pet your hair. “I’m so, so sorry that he treated you this way. He was never worth your time.”

You swallow back your tears, before pulling away from Taerae. Your arms still tangled up with his, you say finally, “I know.”

He stares at you for a moment before that sad smile returns. “You should know. I’m glad that you know. He doesn’t deserve any of your tears.”

“They’re not for him.” The truth falls from your lips before you can chicken out. You brace for the instant regret that should come with saying these words, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel the beginnings of relief.

Taerae’s head tilts to the side questioningly. “What--... What do you mean?”

Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth and you bite it hard to dissolve the anxiety in your chest. “I wasn’t crying over him.”

“Oh...” He says softly, utter confusion written all over his face. “So... You... Okay, no, I don’t get it.”

Of course Taerae didn’t get it. He had a wonderful night with the girl he likes. And the person who’d ruined it for him was you.

“Oh, I just remembered that Ryan said you wanted to tell me something?” Taerae says, brow furrowed curiously. “Or that he told you to tell me something? I dunno. He wasn’t making much sense right before he passed out.”

“I like someone else,” you blurt; the rush of adrenaline causing you to stand up and find something to busy yourself with before your nails dig holes into your palms. You walk over to your record player, turning it on and dropping the needle on whatever album is already loaded. When the sound flows from the speakers, you realize it’s an R&B album you picked up from a vintage thrift shop across town last week. 

Taerae stands up, too-- recognizing the tension in your voice. “You do?”

You nod, avoiding his gaze. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s... That’s great, (Y/N),” he encourages, but there’s a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I just hope whoever it is, they’re much nicer to you.”

“He’s really nice to me, actually,” you confirm, finally turning around to look at Taerae again. You catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before he shifts his focus  down to the floor.

It’s now or never.

“Even when I steal his sweet potato fries.”

There’s a lag in his response. It takes a full ten seconds for Taerae to look up at you and, when he does, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in shock. He’s so silent that you’re suddenly sure you’ve made a terrible mistake.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m really sorry; maybe I shouldn’t’ve said that. I know you like Molly and I’m sorry you left prom early to check on me and I know I’ve been so annoying these past couple months and maybe it’s not fair of me to say any of this but when you made that poster for her and it had those Royal Azaleas on it-- that’s my favorite flower, how could you do that, you insensitive piece of--.”

For the last couple moments of your insane rambling, Taerae had been stepping towards you-- closing the gap between you and him quickly before finally cupping your face in his hands and connecting your lips in a particularly unskilled kiss.

When he pulls back, he’s blinking at you with innocent eyes; a blush heating his cheeks.

“Was that your first kiss?” You ask, a small smile turning up the corners of your lips. Taerae’s bottom lip has found its way between his teeth and he’s biting it hard to alleviate his nervous energy; hands dropping to his sides. He just nods in response.

Your right hand raises to his jaw now; left hand resting on his shoulder. Pulling him in to kiss you again, you say softly, “Just follow me for a second.”

When your lips are on Taerae’s again, you squeeze his shoulder gently to get him to relax. He responds to this, letting you lead until he feels confident enough to match you. And once he does...

You’re ready to kick yourself for not falling for him sooner.

“It was for you,” he says softly in between kisses. “I made it for you.”

You pull back to look at him. “What?”

“The poster. The promposal,” Taerae clarifies. “It had your favorite flowers on it, because it was for you.”

Your eyebrows raise as the truth sinks in. Taerae had been trying to ask you to prom yesterday; that’s why he was acting so weird. And Dohyun had obviously been enlisted to help.

“You wanted to go so badly,” he explains. “I know not with me, but I just wanted to try and make you happy anyway.”

A sad laugh escapes you. “Tell me honestly: why are you letting me confess to you right now? Do I really deserve it after all I must’ve put you through?”

Taerae shakes his head. “You definitely don’t,” he affirms before grinning at you. Finally those perfect dimples are on display just for you. “But I’m such a sucker for you. Those sweet potato fries only cost a dollar, you know?”

“I know,” you whisper, grabbing the collar of his navy suit jacket and pulling him in once more. You kiss him sweetly and his arms snake their way around your waist in response. “They just taste better coming from your tray.”

“I don’t even like them,” he says, kissing you again; a smirk on his lips. “I just get them so you’ll steal them from me.”

~

*** 🌶️ INSERT SPICY CUT SCENE HERE -- MINORS DNI -- CONTINUE READING BELOW FOR ENDING (and read below after finishing cut scene) 🌶️ ***

~

“(Y/N)?”

Your mother calling you from the other side of your door jolts you, sending you and Taerae scrambling off each other on your bed-- where you haven’t really let each other breathe for the past twenty minutes.

“If Taerae’s sleeping over, can you tell him to turn his headlights off, please?” That’s all your mom says before her footsteps travel back down the stairs; a hint of a smirk in her voice.

Taerae’s eyes widen, his hands searching his pockets for his keys. When he doesn’t find them, he smiles at you sheepishly. “Oops.”

“So stealthy of you,” you tease, hitting his chest lightly as you attempt to catch your breath. He grabs your hand, pulling you back into him and reattaching your lips. Before your mind goes blank again, you pull back. “Go turn your car off!”

“Fine,” he sighs, annoyedly. Pushing himself up off the bed with his hands, he finally stands up and walks towards the window. “Here I go. Just like you asked.”

You walk over to him, grabbing his shoulders from behind and turning him towards your bedroom door. “No more scaling buildings for tonight, King Kong.”

“Really? King Kong? Couldn’t have said something sexier like Spiderman or?”

Before he reaches for the doorknob, you turn him back to face you. Raising up on your toes cutely, you press one more kiss to his lips. “I just don’t really like spiders.”

“That’s right,” he says, palm cupping your cheek. “Giant gorilla it is, then.”

“Now go turn your car off so we can get back to what we were doing...”

Taerae’s hand flies to the doorknob; throwing the door open and running to the stairs as fast as he possibly can. 

Just before he disappears down the stairs, he turns back to you-- pounding his chest with his fists lightly like the cutest, lamest gorilla to ever exist.

“This idiot,” you whisper, shaking your head.

I must really love him.

[wing-ed-thing]

The Aburames (Shino x Reader)

Request:

Word Count: 1.6k 

Tags/Warnings: Married Couple, Fluff, Minor Original Character, No Reader Pronouns

Notes: I’m drooling for the married team. There’s a super long note at the end with lore, way longer than I planned oops

You could usually tell when a squad captain was new, especially when you and Shino ended up on the same team. It was an oversight that you would always try to correct ahead of time, but bureaucracy didn’t always work in your favor.

“Eh? What do you mean?” Arata’s glasses had fallen crooked on his face as he stared up from his disorganized mission notes. You and Shino exchanged glances, both of you with your arms laxly crossed over your chests. 

“We can’t use our jutsu at the same time,” you said sheepishly, at a loss for what to do or how to explain the clear mistake that was made. While you hoped that you could’ve sorted the team roster out before you were standing together at the village’s gate, you supposed there was no time like the present. 

“What do you mean you can’t use your jutsu at the same time?” Arata turned his attention back to his notes in a panic. He flipped through them, even turning the whole ensemble upside down as his eyes darted across the pages. “Aburame utilizes an insect jutsu, and you use plants—”

“Carnivorous plants,” you swiftly corrected with a sigh. Arata gaped up at you, not entirely understanding the problem. You cleared your throat. “Plants that eat bugs—” Arata’s mouth formed a round shape as he studied his notes more closely. —“We’re also married, so people don’t usually put us on the same squad. You might want to refer to us by our first names.”

“Aw, jeez,” Arata huffed with a drop of his shoulders. “And here I thought I was being clever.” Your hands hovered in the air as you instinctively moved to give him a reassuring pat. You recoiled your touch at the last second. No matter how young your temporary leader was, he was still your captain.

“No worries, Captain Arata. I’m sure there’s time to switch one of us out!” You glanced at Shino, making eyes at him to signal that he should say something. He grunted, nodding to himself.

“Yes, these things happen.” He continued to nod. 

“Actually…” Arata trailed off. “There were only enough people for the minimum amount of squads this period. That’s why I put the two of you together when we made our picks because I assumed with the bugs and the plants…” He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. 

“At least he didn’t add Ōtori,” Shino muttered. You gave him a sharp nudge. 

“We’ll make due, don’t worry, Captain.” 

“Please don’t call me that…”

Arata looked as if he’d be sick any moment. 

Only when you reached your destination did the green in Arata’s face seem to fade—poor thing. You remembered leading your first squad, although you couldn’t say you were as much of a wreck as Arata. He was hard to watch. He could hardly get a word out even as he met with your clientele. You wondered if he knew all he had to say was that you were in town to do the requested work. Clearly not; he said everything but that. 

The three of you sat together on a tree branch overlooking the small trading town. Shino had sent his beetles out into the night. With their superior surveillance and tracking capabilities and nocturnal abilities, you sat back and allowed Shino’s hive to smoke out your target. 

“You guys look like you’ve done this before,” Arata remarked, staring down at the lit lights of the houses below. Ironically, it had been Arata’s order to station the beetles across the rooftops. You leaned against the tree trunk, admiring how the quint village glowed warmly in the moonlight. Stalls lined the streets, lighting up the night with pleasant lantern light. A small group of children shared an oversized confection below. 

“Unfortunately, bandits hit these villages a lot,” you mused. Shino nodded. “Lots of people come through here. Lots of trade, lots to steal. Serial thievery from one place doesn’t surprise me.”

“It’s the geography,” Shino said curtly. 

The streets below you continued to bustle with life. Even into the night, trade continued throughout the small town. Arata’s eyes widened in awe, an apparent brightness in them as he listened. 

“Ah, I see,” he hummed, standing on the branch to survey the land. “Can I ask a personal question?” You couldn’t help your slight expression of surprise, a hint of playfulness and curiosity swimming in your face as the corners of your lips tugged into a gentle grin. 

“Shoot.” You nodded. Shino hardly said a word as he stood at the end of the branch. He shoved his hands in his pockets, pretending not to listen. You were always the talker in the relationship anyway. 

“You’re married, right?” Arata glanced between you and Shino. You offered him a gentle and slow bow of your head in acknowledgment. “How do you live together if, you know, your plants eat… you know.” Your laugh was light and resounded nicely through the breeze that ruffled the treetops. 

“We make do.” You bent a knee, holding it close to your chest as you assumed a more comfortable position. “The Aburames are known for their Destruction Bug Implantation. I’m sure he could tell you more about it than I could—” You craned your neck to look past Arata at Shino, who continued to pretend he wasn’t listening. Arata followed your gaze. —“It’s a permanent summoning, I suppose. Mine is more traditional, so keeping them apart isn’t too difficult when there’s a dimensional rift.” 

“I suppose that makes sense.” Arata chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck. “I guess I just assumed you’d have a few lying around the house. I know a lot of people like to keep their summons close.”

“Sometimes I like to go back with them to tend to them in their own realm.” You held a finger up to your lips with a wink. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” Arata held his expression of awe but didn’t have time to be impressed for long.

You heard shouting below. The crowd filling the streets at various stalls parted like a crack in rock. A woman fell, pushed to the ground as a few men gave chase to a figure you couldn’t quite see. 

“Theif!” one of the men cried. They made for your direction. The thief could escape into the forest within moments at the rate the men were chasing. 

“Shino, can you grab him?” Arata barked. Shino grumbled, gritting his teeth as he labored, straining the muscles of his arms as he conducted his swarm. 

“Too bright, too many people… I won’t make it!” 

Arata called out your name.

“Your plants!” he called out, his voice sputtering as he struggled to grasp his words quickly. “While Shino’s bugs are far enough!” Despite the lapse in communication, you knew precisely what his orders were.

“I got it!” You jumped off the branch as the invisible thief grew closer. The blood you drew from your finger sailed into the air, falling with you. “Summoning Jutsu!” 

Several snapping heads shot out from the white cloud of smoke that flooded the forest's underbrush. The traps snapped as the petioles weaved around the treetrunks, following the vibrations of footsteps on the leaf litter on the ground below. Arata had stationed himself at the forest’s entrance, arms held out as he stopped the pursuing men from getting caught in the crossfire. 

You heard a sharp cry, one of our traps rising into the air in your peripheral, a pair of legs kicking against the teeth before the trap was sliced cleanly in two. You gasped in horror as the whole trap shriveled, turning crispy and brown down the petioles. The thief left into the darkness of the forest. 

With the fight over, you ran to the rhizome, taking out your tantō to cut the dead head off the rest of the plant. The other traps surrounded you, shaking. 

“Aww, poor baby,” you cooed. “That must’ve been so hard. I’m sorry.” One of the traps thrust itself into your arms, nearly knocking you to the ground. You gave it a few gentle pats. “I’ll give you attention soon, I promise.” 

The plant disappeared into another puff of smoke just as Shino’s swarm passed overhead. The beetles traveled together, covering the forest like a blanket as they blotted out the moonlight. Arata, who had been running toward you, stopped in his tracks as he watched the swarm pass.

“Are you okay?” he yelled to you.

“Yeah! I’m alright,” you sighed. He walked over to you in defeat, hands on his hips as he looked deep into the forest's darkness. 

“Well, so much for catching him.” He frowned. “Sorry about your plant.” You shrugged, glancing over your shoulder toward your husband, who trailed a short distance behind you. 

“It’ll be okay. That one’s just a big baby, really.” You walked forward into the dimness, as did Shino, much to Arata’s surprise. “It’s actually a good thing. The scent from the trap is a real good insect attractant.” You shot Shino a cheeky grin. “That’s how I trapped you, isn’t it?”

He hummed, knowing that a lack of acknowledgment would’ve spurred you on even more. You pivoted on your heel, walking backward deeper into the trees as you waved for Arata to follow. 

“C’mon, Captain Arata. This was your plan, wasn’t it?” Arata’s face wrinkled in confusion for only a second before he perked up in surprise. He ran after the two of you.

“Right! My plan!”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Fun facts about the piece if that’s something you fancy: “Arata” means fresh/new. I feel like married couple Shino and Reader would have worked out how to battle together, but I’d imagine it’s stressful for the bugs. Not to mention Reader’s plants may shut prematurely, causing the plant to use up energy. 

Reader Ōtori is also the bird user from my very first (very bad) Shino series. She has Shino in an alternate universe, I guess haha. I think aside from the Uchiha!Readers, she’s the only one I gave a last name (and a gender). Let’s keep it that way haha.

I don’t usually picture what Reader looks like, but I do on maybe 1/8 of my works. I pictured Reader to look like Pieck Finger and Arata to look something like Floch Forster or Izuku Midorya. Not that it matters who I picture. Shino is just... Shino haha. Always Wedding Era Shino though.

Also, it took me a solid 10 minutes to think of how these two abilities could possibly be compatible it was a struggle