#hes still freakishly tall in my heart!!

[rukafais]

some drizzt visual dictionary previews! i DEFINITELY want to get a signed copy of this because wow this looks AMAZING and finally they made jarlaxle as pretty as he deserves....and he’s actually smiling?? so good.

also lolth looks really good. like we’ve come a long way from glam rocker in leotard huh. i like how they’ve decided to say she chose her form rather than was forced/cursed into it like back in 3rd edition too....

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

[sillysowa]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM OML 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Would you be comfortable with writing a hobie x femreader where Hobie walks in on reader pleasing herself. The rest is up to you

THANK YOU ANON!🫶 Absolutely! Here you go~

NEED A HAND?

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT, FLUFF, ENEMIES TO LOVERS?

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: MASTURBATION, VAGINAL FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, VAGINAL SEX, DEGRADATION + PRAISE, SPITTING, ‘ANGRY SEX,’ FLUFFY AT THE END

AUTHORS NOTE: I DECIDED TO GO WITH A DYNAMIC WHERE HOBIE AND READER HAVE A COMPETITIVE RELATIONSHIP IN HQ, BUT THEY WANT EACHOTHER

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE WALKS IN ON YOU TOUCHING YOURSELF WHILE MOANING HIS NAME—DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU HATED HIM?

—

“Hobie fucking Brown with his stupid fucking voice, and his freakishly long fingers! His…his annoying smirk, and his obnoxious fucking style, god!” You groan, stripping out of your clothes furiously and staring down at your underwear—You were wet, actually fucking horny because Hobie decided today was a good day to test your limits. He didn’t do anything necessarily crazy, he just sat right next to you, manspreading with his leg pressed against yours, slinging his arm around your shoulder and placing his hand on your inner thigh when he got up to leave, whispering a deep,

“Y’look absolutely ravishing today.” In your ear like it was no big deal! Who the fuck does that? You’ve both always been sort of competitive with eachother on missions, personalities clashing when you work together. He likes to throw half-mean-half-flirty remarks at you and you like to shut it down. That’s how it goes—but today? Straight up flirting? You couldn’t handle it. You instantly got on your bed and pulled your rose toy out of your night stand, turning it on and spreading your legs.

You felt a little ashamed of yourself, but the moment you felt those sweet vibrations on your clit it all just melted away and thoughts of Hobie between your legs clouded your vision, your heart racing and your skin dampening,

“Fuckkk~” You groan, throwing your head back and panting at the feeling, “Yes, Hobie. Eat my fucking pussy, fuck~” Your moans get louder, the sensations on your most vulnerable spot making you writhe. You can’t stop thinking of Hobie. You think of his face and how good he’d look naked on top you—or his tongue deep inside you after whispering pure filth in your ear, or his piercings and how good they’d feel on your folds—you think of it all, your eyes clamping shut and your free hand hiking your leg up higher by the back of your knee. Your pussy clenched around nothing, your mouth opening as you moan,

“Fuck me, Hobie...”

“Am I interrupting—?”

You cut him off with a gasp, scrambling to clamp your legs shut and cover your breasts. Your mind raced…

What. The. Fuck.

Hobie is standing in a portal in front of your bed, walking through it smugly with his hands in his pockets. He looks shocked, but he’s doing a decent job of remaining calm and collected. You on the other hand…you don’t know how to explain anything, your vibrator still buzzing on your bed and covered in your juices,

“Well isn’t this’a sight f’sore eyes…?” He chuckles, “Here I was thinking you hated my bloody guts but now look at ya…all hot and bothered. Did my teasin’ earlier make your pretty pussy wet? Y’look pretty frustrated y’know, need a hand?” He smirks, slowly removing his guitar and vest. He looks incredibly tall in your room, towering over you on your bed and as he slowly removes his clothes. You finally muster up to the courage to speak,

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You ask, your pussy throbbing at the sight of his toned and smooth skin, his abs and v-line exposed for your hungry eyes to swallow like prey. You genuinely can’t believe what’s happening right now but even worse you can’t believe how much you’re liking it! You literally can’t tear your gaze off of him as he strip-teases for you. You knew you couldn’t fuck him…you work with him! You’re one of Headquarters best and here you were, horny and desperate for a delinquent anarchist…but good god his dick was massive!

He pulled his boxers down and what had to be just shy of ten inches of rock hard dick popped out, springing up just for you. Your mouth gaped open and you shamelessly stared,

“Texted you to tell you there was a change’a plans in tomorrows mission but you weren’t respondin’ so I figured i’d just stop by and tell ya—never knew you’d be flicking the bean and moaning out my name.” He smirks devilishly, coming towards the edge of your bed. He knows you want this by the look in your eyes and the way you let your legs fall open, but he needs to be sure,

“May I?” His voice comes out in a special deep kind of way that you’ve never heard before and your pussy clenches, your spidey senses going wild. You know he feels it cause one of his eyes squints, the strong feeling tugging at his senses, and he smirks when you whine,

“Fuck, yes, p-please just—“

“Shhh relax love, i’ve got you.” Hobie whispers, crawling on top of you and roughly spreading your thighs with a grunt, planting a kiss right on your sensitive clit. He pauses for a moment, locking eyes with you before sucking on it like a lollipop. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands twitch, the feeling making you shake,

“O-Oh fuck…Hobie, y-you suck at this.” You lie through your needy sounds, your hands reaching towards his head and thrusting his face deeper against you, the slightly shocked look in his eyes fueling your need and making you feel like you were in charge for a moment. Hobie pops off of you with ease despite your strength, and he web shoots your wrists above your head in a matter of seconds,

“Since y’were begging f’me, I think i’ll just take control, yeah?” Hobie smirks, his lips latched onto your clit instantly, kissing and slurping on it sensually—delivering you the most pleasure you had ever felt.

“Y-you’re, mmf!- such an ass, Hobie~” The room felt hot and your skin felt sticky, his teasing gaze at your words making your pussy gush. You tried to fight back the moans, panting and squirming at his every touch. Hobie wanted to hear you. He slapped your thigh, a yelp escaping from your lips as he slurped you up like you were his last meal. He got all kinds of revved up from your pettiness, rutting his dick into the sheets as he proved to you that not even you knew your body like this,

“You like that don’tcha love?” Hobie growls into your pussy as he does absolutely sinful things with his tongue, things that you didn’t know were possible—the moans were becoming so hard to bite back. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his nose and tongue. Hobie felt the way you pulsated and when he looked at you and saw your eyebrows furrowed the way they were, he knew you were close,

“Give it to me, Y/N, I want it all.” He groans, his tongue working like a machine on your clit, steady rapid pace flicking it just the way you needed to cum all over his face, squirting like you never have before. Your back arched and you tried to hide your face by turning, embarrassed at how fast you came from just Hobie’s tongue. You knew he’d get a kick out of it, and sure enough,

“That good love? Couldn’t have even been more than 5 minutes.” He laughs but he kisses your thighs, licks up the mess, and then reaches for your face. You were surprised when his hands came to your jaw and he looked into your eyes—He kind of looked like he was going to kiss you.

That was when you felt his tip at your entrance, prodding and pushing in. You couldn’t even try to keep quiet, and you could look away as he held your face and his half lidded eyes bored into yours. It was sadistic, that look he gave you while your eyes widened and watered, your lips parting as pained moans spill from your lips—he was huge and he knew it.

“How’s that feel, doll?” He whispers, eyes never leaning yours as he thrusts himself all the way inside your tight cunt. You’re so wet that he doesn’t even have to try to move, his dick ramming inside you like a piston. In contrast, he gently smooths his thumbs over the balls of your cheeks, watching every expression that strikes your features,

“Y-You’re too big—“ You moan, your eyelids twitching and fluttering as your body turns to jelly. You had never felt something so filling in your whole life…of course Hobie had to have the biggest dick you’d ever felt…there was no sly remark you could possibly throw at him when you were breathless just from the first couple of thrusts,

“You’re taking it so well though, hm? Such a good girl.” Hobie groans, sliding his hands down your body and kissing your neck while he grips your hips, “You feel so fucking good. You’re so dirty touching yourself at the thought of me and spreading your legs like a whore at the sight’v my dick,” He grunts out through his moans, thrusting into you and making your whole bed shake. You physically can’t handle the praise and degradation that he throws at you all at once,

“H-Hobie…you’re so fucking annoying!”

“Oh yeah? I’m annoying? Well you’re sobbing on my dick right now, not a good look is it, love?”

You can’t even think as Hobie pulls almost entirely out of you before thrusting into you full speed, leaving you choking on your breaths for a moment. He looks right into your eyes, repeating the same rhythm and smirking at your needy sounds—the way you can’t help but cry out in pleasure each and every time,

“What was that?” He asks, mock pity in his voice, “Too fucked out to answer hm?”

You tug at your restrains, pleasured tears spilling from your eyes as your turn your head, moans tearing out of your throat,

“I-Mmm~ Fuck…Hobie!~ I-I hate you!”

At this, Hobie just comically tilts his head. He knows you don’t hate him, the way your heart beats out of your chest and your ankles lock around his back as he fucks you—even the way you tease him or yell at him—it’s full of want and need…desire even. His pace never relents as he massages your hips, his deep voice making your heart drop,

“Look at me.”

You don’t. You feel embarrassed at how easily he’s gotten you into this submissive state when you’re one of the strongest people at HQ. You just moan and cry, grunting in frustration with every drag of his dick deep inside you,

“Y/N, look at me.” Hobie says in a sultry tone, voice filled with lust. You feel his chill hand creep up to your jaw, refocusing your gaze on him as he snaps into you at a brutal pace, hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy drip. When your eyes lock on his, he looks absolutely irresistible. There’s a sheen layer of sweat clinging to every inch of his skin, and there’s a glow to his features that you had always seen but never like this. You just want him. You have him but you need him. You need him and he needs you, the hand on your jaw tightening as he brings his thumb up to your lips, pulling your lips open. Hobie leans down, thrusting into you and making your bed creak as he spits right onto your tongue. It stuns you like a slap on the face, but it turns you on like nothing before. Your pussy clenches impossibly tighter around Hobie and you swallow his spit, groaning gutturally,

“You’re so fucking nasty.” He groans at the sight, pressing your knees down beside you and thrusting into you with fervor,

“You’re no better.” Is all you say, trying to sound steady even though you’re a mess for him. You’re digging your nails into his back and dragging them down his smooth skin, begging him to go faster as your body convulses. You’re both breathless in passion, too scared to admit that this was more than just sex. You want each other in a debilitating way, in a way so strong that it scares you—so you fuck like crazed animals and chase your release together.

Hobie’s ears tingle at the sound of your moans increasing in pitch and volume, his senses ablaze with the feeling of your warm hands on his back and the sight of your intoxicated gaze. He looks down at you as you throw your hands around his neck and spill pretty noises from your parted lips. Hobie doesn’t know what comes over him but as he nears his orgasm, he leans down slowly, closing the gap between the two of you. There’s no excuse ready in his mind when he sees your eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes and back, knowing that you want him as much as he wants you.

“Hobie?” You ask, voice full of need and confusion. You’re feeling desperate, on the edge from him so deep inside you, the pleasure building and your head spinning—but now…now he looks like he’s going to kiss you and that scares you. Not because you don’t want it but because you do. Your heart races as one of his hands finds its way behind your head and the other under your jaw.

“I want to kiss you...I-I really want to kiss you.” His words come out huskily, and his gaze softens as he’s about to cum.

You say nothing. You just hold him in the same endearing way and close the gap, pressing your lips against his gently—a juxtaposition to how his hips desperately ram against yours as you both cum, moaning into the kiss and desperately trying to taste each other, afraid of what comes when the moment is over. Hobie’s eyebrows furrow and he struggles to kiss back, releasing himself inside you before he pulls you up and into his lap, still deep inside. Your naked bodies are moving in tandem—lust, need, hunger, desire, desperation, fear, and love. When you finally break the kiss, you’re both breathless. He looks into your eyes and you look into his. You want nothing more than to shy away from him answering to never have to speak of this…but you both know there’s no going back now. He gently strokes your back, his hold on you secure and comforting. He tore your walls down and destroyed you, and now you’re completely on display for him. It doesn’t feel bad…it feels surprisingly natural to be with him like this.

He holds you close, his chin on your head. You feel the deep vibrations on his vocal cords in his chest as he speaks, “You don’t actually hate me do you?” He chuckles.

“No.” You quickly say, mumbling with your cheek pressed against him, “I think we both knew that though, Hobie.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara

[lvrcpid]

pyramids. - F.S

based on : pyramids by frank ocean.

pairing : farleigh start x nb!reader

warnings : drug usage. swearing. slight ooc farleigh. sexual references. kinda short but i’ll be making a part 2.

notes : oh i am SO BACK. 😛 also i love this movie sm.

you always knew you’d end up in college. just at least not at oxford. you always read about the school over the years and it seemed too prim and proper for your liking. a true bore of you will. so when you found yourself in the middle of the campus, hearing the commotion of the students around you, you thought to yourself. “what the fuck did i get myself into?”

your parents were well off, upper middle class even. so when you received a letter inviting you to attend oxford, your family forced you to apply and attend the university. you finally said your goodbyes and finally unpacked. the room had a slight chill and was a bit dreary, even further confirming your suspicions. this school was like purgatory.

the days turned weeks at oxford truly changed your perspective of the entire school. the party life was insane, that’s where you were right now. a party. the music blasted in your ears as the room reeked with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and weed from here and there. you weren’t exactly sober yourself, having a few drinks you were given by an acquaintance you made over the few weeks.

you held the beer in your hand, walking and slightly pushing people in your way. “excuse me” you mumbled less than pleased at the sight of people completely ignoring your presence. you made one final shove before someone, a boy, swung his head around, cigarette in mouth and said. “are you fucking kidding me?” you weren’t looking where you were going, more so not even paying attention to your drink. when you looked up, the stranger in front of you had beer dripping from his back. “oh shit- man i’m sorry” you said slightly embarrassed, trying to use your jacket to pat the area dry.

“stop just- stop.” you picked up on the fact the stranger was american. it wasn’t foreign to see americans at oxford, you’ve just never actually heard their accents before. “i really am sorry. i wasn’t looking where i was going.” you said, still apologetic and remorseful, still a bit because of the alcohol in your system. “oh whatever it’ll dry- hey i’ve seen you around. you’re that super quiet kid in my literature class. i’m farleigh.” he said, raising his eyebrows in a cocky way and taking a cigarette from his pack. he leaned the pack towards you, offering you one, to which you reject. you want to at least try to live to see 50.

“suit yourself.” he says, looking down at your beer. “i could kill you for messing up my shirt..but i’ll let it slide this time. so, what’s your name mystery person?” he looks down at you. the boy was freakishly tall and now that you’re getting a good look at him. you do recognize his face from your literary class. “y/n.” you said, finishing off your beer. farleigh gave you a look that rocked your world, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the depths of the night.

from that moment, you and farleigh hit it off. he was a party animal, a wild child and it made your heart race. every moment with farleigh was an adventure. you soon realized farleigh was into hard drugs. what drugs you may ask? cocaine. but that just made the ride even wilder. although the friendship was platonic, you and farleigh always found yourselves entangled in dances only lovers would dream of. sneaking away from class to make out on his bed or even sneaking touches and glances, enough to make the strongest weak in the knees. farleigh was a passionate person, it made your body jelly and your blood run ice cold, but only in secret. to him, you were his secret sin.

one night , weeks after you and farleigh came together. he decides to open up to you. about his mother, his struggles and even his home, saltburn. you were curious about this place. so curious to the point farleigh had to silence you with a kiss. it was late at night and the campus was silent, only the sounds of the wind and trees in the background. “how about this..if you want to…only if you want.-“ he said, on the spur, in the heat of the moment;

“how about you visit saltburn for the summer?”

part 2 - monster.

[megu-meow]

bbycakes - gojo satoru

gojo x small.fem.reader

Summary: Satoru has to constantly look out for the crazy stunts his girlfriend keeps pulling.

Gojo adored how much he towered over you. From the moment he met you, he knew he had to protect you with all his power. It didn't matter to him how strong of a sorcerer you were and how willing and able you were to fight, he always felt the urge to be your knight in shining armor. It was his way of showing how much he cared, given that he had no idea how he should be showing his love and affection towards you in a more conventional way.

He was obsessed with the way his clothes looked huge on you, how his sweatshirts fit you like dresses and how his t-shirts could reach down to your knees. He observed with a wide grin every morning while he was getting ready to leave for work how your shoes were half the size of his, which was both because of your small feet and his inhumanely large ones.

Sometimes he was annoying about your size difference, he made a habit of resting his arm on the top of your head, which made you look like a child in front of your colleagues, the higher-ups, and even the kids you were trying to teach how to be responsible, talented sorcerers. He also scolded you every time you tried to take on a more challenging mission on your own, lecturing you about the danger you were facing. Sometimes he would treat you like a kid because, in his eyes, you were fragile and small like one. He had to remind himself how strong you actually were, sometimes he forgot you were a semi-grade one sorcerer, a very talented one in his opinion, but it was easy for him to forget when you were the love of his life, his main source of happiness that he wanted to cherish and keep safe until the end of his days.

He didn't actually realize how challenging keeping you safe was until you moved in with him. All the furniture in his home was custom-made to comfortably fit the freakishly tall sorcerer, meaning that all the cabinets were too high up for you, you could barely reach the top of the kitchen counter, you didn't ever try to get your favorite book off the shelves knowing you could never get to it. Gojo loved how you had to rely on him to get your favorite mug for your morning coffee, how you begged him to get a step-stool so that you can cook dinner comfortably, or how you asked him every time if he could hand you the book you wanted to read next. However, he was not always around and you had to improvise, just the way you did your entire life, making the tall sorcerer freak out.

The first time it happens he's in the shower and your dinner needed a little bit of extra spice. Unfortunately, you ran out of chilly power and you had to refill the container with more pepper flakes, which were on the top shelf of your kitchen cabinet, one that you cannot reach even with the help of your stool. So you hop on the top of the kitchen counter, rummaging through the sweets and other spices Satoru showed in there.

"...smells amazing, baby, what's..." he walks into the kitchen with a joyful tone and a wide grin, but he freezes at the sight in front of him "what the hell are you doing?" he quickly runs up to you, putting his large hands on your waist, getting you off the counter and embracing you close to his chest, like a teddy bear. Your legs instantly lock around his torso and your arms are secured around his neck to keep your balance.

"I was trying to get the extra chilly powder, we ran out and I had to refill the container."

"No, pretty girl, you were trying to give me a heart attack." he murmurs, walking closer to the cabinet and getting the spice you were looking for.

"Well it's not my fault you put it so high up that I couldn't reach it." you tell him, poking his pretty nose with your finger, making him scoff, but he still gives you the thing you were trying to fetch yourself and he leaves a loving kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, 'toru."

"Next time you need anything, just tell me baby and I'll get it for you, okay?"

"What if you're not around?"

"I'll teleport, it's fine, I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru, you know I'm not going to get hurt. I've been doing this my whole life, I'll be fine."

"I know, I just worry. Now let's eat before the amazing food you cooked gets cold, okay my mochi?" he kisses your temple lovingly and he slowly puts you down on your own feet, observing with doe eyes as you move around the kitchen plating the food.

The next time it happens you're in the bathroom. You just finished your shower and the fog is thick, given how hot you like the water as you clean your sore body. Satoru is still out with his students and you notice that the vent stopped working, the foggy air getting unbearable in the confines of your shared bathroom. However, the windows are narrow and up high on the wall to give you privacy and you cannot reach the handle to open them. So you step onto the edge of the bathtub, leaning a bit to the side on your tiptoes. That's when you feel a huff and you're suddenly falling into the soft mattress of your comfy bed. You yelp out in shock, Satoru's hands holding you tightly as he is panting, his face contorted in shock.

"What was that, baby?! You could have slipped, are you crazy?!"

"I was fine, Satoru. When did you even get home?"

"Just a few minutes ago, I was looking for you, then I figured you were in the shower, so I teleported so that I could join you, but found you on a death quest."

You roll your eyes at him, you were in no danger whatsoever, but you know he thrives on the feeling of being your "savior". He starts tickling you and you shriek from the feeling of his long fingers dancing around on your sides. He also makes you promise him that you're not gonna pull another one of your stunts ever again in return for him stopping his "brutal torturing" - as you call it.

"You're gonna be the death of me, babycakes." he murmurs into your neck, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive skin between your collarbone and shoulder.

However, besides all of his efforts to stop you from doing stupid stunts, it happens again. This time is the worst. You were playing baseball with the kids, your way of making training a bit more enjoyable for the teenagers you were taking care of. Inumaki was the one that batted the ball into a tree and it got stuck between the branches quite high up. You were used to climbing into tall spaces and you volunteered to get the ball so that you could resume the friendly game you were in the middle of. Satoru was in his office, doing paperwork. He was bored out of his mind, so he started swirling around in his seat, looking outside the tall window. He spotted you straight away, on the top of the oak tree, trying to reach something a bit too far away from you. His heart skipped a beat in fear and he teleported instantly, popping up under the tree. His sudden appearance startled you and you slipped, falling down in an instant. Luckily, he was able to catch you and you were not harmed. The kids rushed to your side, asking whether you were okay, but there was no answer. You were still in shock, looking at the black cloth covering your boyfriend's eyes. His stance was stiff and despite not being able to see his whole face, you knew he was seething with anger.

You felt a huff of air and you found yourself in Shoko's office, the young healer barely bothered by your sudden appearance. She must have been used to Satoru showing up at any given moment without warning.

"Can you please check if she's alright, Shoko? She just fell from a tree."

The brunette nodded and as soon as she started examining you Gojo left, slamming the door behind him.

"Gosh, you must have pissed him off really badly. What happened?"

"Well, he keeps babying me every time I crawl up on something so that I can reach shit, last time it happened he made me promise that I wouldn't do it anymore and today I fell off a tree while trying to get a baseball. I don't understand what the big deal is, though, he was there to catch me." you explain and Shoko looks at you unamused.

"What if he wasn't?"

"What?" you ask in confusion.

"What if he wasn't there to catch you?" she asks as she checks your pupils with a light.

"Well...I've been doing this my whole entire life and I've never gotten hurt..."

"You can't bargain like that with Satoru..." she says curtly and you feel slightly offended.

"What's that supposed to mean, Shoko?"

"I'm gonna explain this to you because I know that you are stubborn and you will ruin what you have with that gigantic asshole because of your pride..." she blurts out the words quickly, you have to lean in closer to her so that you can understand what she's saying "Satoru has witnessed a lot of injuries and deaths in his life, that's why he never lets anyone get too close to him, that's why he doesn't get involved with anything or anyone. You will crush him, if anything bad happens to you. You are important to him, I would even say you are his number one priority, if you get hurt he will not forgive himself in this lifetime, because what's it worth being the strongest if you can't protect what you love most?"

It takes a few minutes to process the information you were just given, but as soon as you do a single tear runs down your cheeks and you're up on your feet, running out of the hospital room yelling a "Thank you, Shoko", trying to find your boyfriend. He is sitting in the waiting room, his head buried in his hands, long legs splayed out lazily. You would laugh at his position, that man doesn't know how to sit properly, but you have other worries at the moment. You walk up to him, putting your arms around him, embracing him lightly. It's funny how he is sitting down and nearly the same height as you standing up. He doesn't say a word, even worse, he doesn't reciprocate your embrace.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I know you worry a lot and I shouldn't be pulling stunts like that, knowing it pisses you off. I know I was being reckless, but I promise I will not do it again, I learned from my mistake." you say, leaving kisses on top of his head. You notice how his blindfold is missing, it is hanging from around his neck, his hair messy from running his hands through it too many times in the last 15 minutes.

"You said that already." he mumbles, it is barely audible, but you catch it and your heartbeat speeds up at his dismissive tone.

"What, Satoru?"

"You promised me once that you're not going to pull any of your crazy stunts again, that you would ask for my help." he says and suddenly he pulls back from your embrace, locking his cerulean eyes with yours "How do I know you won't break your promise again?"

His expression is unrecognizable, he's never looked at you like that since you met him. It's somewhat scary and it causes your tears to multiply. You're also flabbergasted by his question, you don't know how to answer it. He's right. You know it, you broke his trust, his reaction is appropriate.

"I'm sorry, Satoru. Please forgive me, I know you don't believe me right now, but I promise I will not do anything dangerous like that again. I love you and I don't want you to worry about me more than you already have to." you sniffle quietly, trying to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, one that Gojo put on you before leaving you with Shoko.

He looks at you, his gaze softening, he always hated when you cried. He wanted to blast everyone and everything away with Hollow Purple that caused you to cry, he never thought he would be the reason one day for your tears. His giant hands lock around your waist, pulling you closer to him in his warm embrace.

"I love you, that's why I need you to be safe at all times." he mumbles.

"I know, baby, I know, I understand now. I will be more careful, I promise, Satoru."

"Okay, I forgive you. BUT..." he says a bit more harshly "You will have to bake me a thousand batches of your rhubarb cookies that I like so much if it happens again."

You laugh at his response, the tension leaving your body as his unbothered, childishly loving persona returns. He kisses your tears away, keeping you close to his chest, his embrace strong and safe.

After that, you never climb another cabinet, the bathtub, or any tree. Every time you need something that you can't quite reach, you call your giant boyfriend to get it for you and he does it with a Cheshire smile, lavishing in the feeling of being helpful and always there for you.

[lovelywritinglady]

Crocodile Tears pt.2

Sir Crocodile x fem!reader, Doflamingo x fem!reader(siblings)

In which your life has gotten a little more complicated as your freakishly tall older brother comes back into your life.

Angst, reader is traumatized, fluff, curse words, violence. Slighy spoilers for Marine ford. Maybe out of character Crocodile and Doflamingo. May be some canon as well as non canon things.

The ocean shone brilliantly as the salty sea air whipped your h/c hair back softly. You stood on the front of the boat holding the railing that surrounded it, feeling the cool metal against your palms. You took a deep breath letting the salty air fill your lungs as your eyes still felt raw from all of the crying you had done the night prior. Your heart was still aching from recent events. You had once been the wife of a very powerful man and now you were just you and you knew that at some point, you needed to come to terms with that.

The reason you chose Dressrosa was because despite the history there, you needed to be in the comfort of your family. You desired to see your older brother even though he was a horrible person and a hardened criminal. You were an adopted by his parents as they desired to have a ‘normal’ child. You chuckled at that thought squeezing the cool railing a little bit harder as you felt fresh tears pricking your eyes once again. You started to hate yourself for wanting to see him, as he was the reason your parents weren’t here anymore. But you knew that he would welcome you with open arms, he did promise that after all. You just wish that you knew where your other brother was as he was more of the ideal person to be with. He was kind, smart, and someone you knew you could rely on. But your older brother would have to do for now, he was still family.

“We will be arriving at our destination in 1 hour.” someone on the loud speaker announced

“Well damn, that voyage was a lot quicker than I thought it be. Guess I should call Doffy.”You spoke to yourself as you admired the sea.

You reluctantly let go of the railings and began waking back to your room that was located in the middle of the ship. Once there, you sat on your bed that was hard and uncomfortable. You then took one look at your transponder snail giving it a small smile before grabbing it gently Reluctantly, you dialed your brothers number waiting for him to pick up as the sound of the transponder snail filled your tiny room. And soon enough, the transponder snail stopped with a click sound.

“Who’s this?” A gruff voice spoke

“It’s me, Doffy. It’s y/n.” You responded cringing at yourself for being so timid.

“Well, well. Hello there I was wondering when I’d get a call from you. ” He laughed out. “I told you that Crocodile was not good for you did I not.” Doflamingo spoke once more bit in a more serious tone fully knowing why you’d call him.

“I know.” You whispered feeling embarrassed

“I’m glad you know, sweet sister. Now tell me where you are so I can come and get you.” He said in a more gentle voice thing to coax you to him.

“Funny enough, in a boat right now on my way to Dressrosa. I’m about an hour away.” You replied with a nervous expression.

“Fufufu, good I’ll see you soon then. Are you just visiting or do you want to stay?” He asked slyly

“I’m not sure yet Doffy. All I know is that I need my family.” You admitted feeling too emotionally tired to hide your true feelings.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” Doflamingo stated as that sentence reminded you of the big fight the two of you had when you first started dating crocodile. You then sighed trying to push down the thoughts of your husband down. “See you soon, y/n.” Your brother added before hanging up.

“Shit. What the hell did I just get myself into.” You admitted to yourself before you began packing your things getting ready to see your big brother again.

One hour later

You had finally arrived to Dressrosa. Taking your first steps off of the boat felt like you were waking home. The familiar warmth and sight of toys filled you with joy. However, the sheer number of them shocked you as you defiantly don’t remember there being this many. Shaking your head, you decided to put it in the back of your mind as you were dedicated to one thing and one thing only; your brother.

You began looking around for him thinking that he might be here to get you. However, knowing Doffy, he was not the kind of man to do that. You shook your head that this realizing that it had been some time since you had officially seen him and you seemed to have forgotten some of his manurisums.

“Well shit, I guess I’ve gotta walk there.” You spoke to yourself.

And so you went in the direction of the castle that sat upon the plateau called the “Sunflower hill.” As you began your journey, suitcase in hand, you had walked out five minutes before you were surrounded by three men that seemed to be dressed as guards.

“Miss Donquixote, we are here to escort you to the palace by order of the king!” The guard in the middle declared handing me an official document with my brothers signature proving the legitimacy to this man’s words.

“I see. Thank you! Mind carrying my bags then?” I responded handing one of the other guards my suitcase before they could answer. I then walked past them desperate to get to my final destination.

“C-certainly!” The guard squeaked surprised at my boldness.

“Wait, miss Donquixote! We are suppose to escort you!” The last guard yelled

“Well escort me then I’m not interested in waiting any longer than I already have.” You snapped back not having any patience to deal with your brothers goonies at that moment. You then continued your fast pace not caring if they were actually escorting you or not.

“Yes ma’am!” All three of them responded as you heard them quicken their footsteps behind you. And soon enough they were in front of you “escorting” you to the palace.

After about an hour of walking, you had finally made it to your brothers palace. You smiled to yourself feeling surprisingly happy that you were going to see him after so many years. The palace hadn’t changed much since the last time you were here. With the exception of a few more shitty portraits of your brother.

“Miss Donquixote, please follow us to the throne room.” The guard holding your bag told you.

“Thank you!” You responded feeling slightly relieved that you were finally here.

The guard then lead you through a long hallway with red velvet carpet adorned with gold accents. The doors ahead that opened to the throne room was solid gold and stood wall length. The other two guards then stood on both sides of the doors. As the two massive opened you were greeted with the strange and malicious smile of your older brother; Donquixote Doflamingo.

“Too you long enough my sweet sister.” Doflamingo smiled crossing his legs as he sat upon his massive golden throne wearing his signature pink feathered coat.

“My bad, your guards got in my way.” You joked walking up to him with a small smile on your face.

“Fufufu I’ll deal with them later.” He spoke looking down at you with his smile never fading from his face.

“It’s good to see you brother.” You admitted not interested in starting any small talk with him knowing full well it would go absolutely no where.

“You as well dear one. It’s been so long. Why don’t we catch up in private?” He asked although knowing him, it definitely wasn’t a question. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” He added as he got up from his massive throne and began walking.

“Sure thing.” You responded as you followed.

Soon the two of you arrived to his office. Once there, the two of you sat across from each other in big office chairs. His looked perfect for him while your looked like it was about to swallow you whole. His office was huge and like the rest of the decor of the castle, it was adored with good trimmings and beautiful paintings. One of the paintings in particular caught your eye. It was a painting of you and both of your brothers. With them standing side by side with you in the middle. The sight of that painting made your heart ache. You hadn’t seem your other brother in an ever longer time than you had seen Doflamingo.

“He’s still missing y/n.” Doflamingo chimed in once he took notice you weren’t paying any attention to him.

“I know, it’s been far too long. I barely remember him.” You spoke seldomly

“What do you remember?” He asked as he leaned in closer to you.

“That he was kind, quiet, and extremely clumsy.” You replied reminiscing in your head about the time he somehow slipped sitting down. You chuckled at that thought which, not to your awareness, made Doflamingo jealous.

“Yes he was, but onto business.” He said doing his best to hide his annoyed tone and trying to give you a sweet and loving smile instead.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. What would you like to know?” You asked him leaning back into your massive chair.

“Everything, start from the beginning. I need to know how much that mother fucker hurt you and if I need to kill him or not.” He sneered smiling in anticipation.

“I’ll tell you everything as long as you agree not to kill him.” You responded quickly trying not to get your ex husband kill despite your hatred for him. You were so glad in that moment that you took on more of the personality of your other brother.

“Deal, just tell me everything.” He replied in an annoyed tone.

“Fine, so it all started about a little over a week ago…” You started.

Meanwhile…

The news of Arabasta’s war conflict coming to an end and Crocodiles reign over was sweeping the nation and the world by storm. The news that “white chase” Smoker of the marines had defeated the infamous pirate became one of speculation and pride to the Marines. The king was respected once more and the lost princess Vivi went back to her kingdom once more. It was a joyous occasion as the chains that held Arabasta captive were finally broken. However, there was one in particular that was not gladdened with the news; Sir Crocodile.

There he sat in a large Marine ship with sea prism stone cuffs on both his hands and feet. Blood still on his face from his recent battle with the rookie “Straw Hat” Luffy. Crocodile was defeated through and through. Both mind and body spent as not only did his plans fail, but the one thing he held dear to him was now gone too, due to his own personal failure. The area of the ship he was in was dark and smelled of rats and moldy sea water.

“Damn marines, don’t even know how to clean properly.” He spoke to himself with a raspy voice.

His head leaned forward as he tried to make himself comfortable in these shitty conditions. However, he had no luck as he was so use to his luxurious ways. His constant cigar was gone so he couldn’t even find a slight comfort in that. Crocodile then sighed feeling tired from the sea prism stone cuffs that he was bound in. As his power felt like it was gone completely. He hated this feeling, he hated being weak, but most importantly he hates knowing that he lost. He hates himself for the words that he spoke to you when he should’ve been kind to you. You were(are) his wife and he loves you more than anything.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He spoke softly to himself as though he was speaking to you.

Where were you now? Were you safe? Did you still love him? These questions kept repeating in his tired mind as he sat and sat for what felt like an eternity. He knew where he was going, but in that moment all his mind wanted to think of was you. Your smile, your eyes, your body, your kindness, your love. You were the only comfort he had in that moment and he knew that you’d be the only comfort he would have in Impel Down.

“What the hell is she going to think?” He questioned remembering that he had never told you the full extent of his plan and the full truth as to why you were in Arabasta in the first place. All he told you was that it was the best place for the two of you to make money and you accepted. “Shit!” He yelled out slamming his hand and hook down on the floor.

“Hey! Keep it down in there!” One of the marine guards called out to him. To which Crocodile glared at him making the marine guard shiver. “S-sorry!” He stuttered out.

“Whatever.” Crocodile spoke leaning back against the wall and sighing.

He knew he fucked up badly. He knew the chance of you taking him back as your husband was slim, but he didn’t care. He loved you in his twisted but genuine way. You were his and he was yours and he needed you back in his arms. You were his salvation is this fucked up world. Crocodile then in that moment, no matter what, decided he would find a way to be by your side once more and he simply didn’t care how.

“Prepare the prisoner for transfer to Impel down!” Another guard shouted to Crocodiles.

“Yes sir!” The marine saluted. “You heard him p-prisoner. Stand up!” The guard stuttered.

“Sure.” Crocodile smiled sending another wave of nerves down the guard’s spine.

Now that crocodile was standing he fully now realized just how tired he was. However, that didn’t matter now. Now, he would have to endure literal hell for god knows how long. But, he knew no matter how long no matter how much they would put him through in that place, it would be more than worth it just to see you once again.

“Y/n, I’ll find you my darling.” He whispered is mind returning to nothing but sweet thought of you and he began walking straight into hell.

Back To You…

“And that’s what happened and why I’m here now.” You spoke finishing your story.

“I know you told me I shouldn’t kill him, but the events that you just told me make me think he deserves it.” Doflamingo spoke through gritted teeth as his fists were tightly squeezed together.

“His death really wouldn’t make me feel any better you know.” You bit back annoyed that he even thought to bring this up again.

“It would make me feel better.” He muttered as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“I know it would.” You sighed. “I just don’t wish to see him. I can’t, especially after leaving the way I did.” You admitted as you started to feel slightly sad once more.

“Good, you won’t and I’ll make damn sure of it. You left because you knew you needed better and so you came to me. I’ll make sure you find someone worthy of a woman of your caliber, that’s a promise.” Doflamingo declared feeling righteous.

“I’m not looking to move on yet Doffy…” you said looking down at you hands as your eyes began to blur. “I just can’t.” You added as your heart ached with the memory of your husband.

“Fine, but you will one day, promise me.” Doflamingo spoke seriously

“I promise.” You replied. Although not fully meaning it as your heart still belonged to your husband despite how shitty he was.

“Good girl. Now you should go see the rest of the family I know they’re excited-”Doflamingo began

“Young master! Young master!” A guard burst in holding a newspaper exclaimed.

“Dammit what?!” Your brother barked back with visible anger.

“S-sorry, young master, b-but you need to r-read the news!” He stuttered handing Doflamingo the newspaper.

Your brother scanned it, reading it carefully not fully believing the article. You noticed a mix of confusion and excitement on his face as his familiar smile grew in size. It seemed like forever until he finally finished reading. Once he did, he gave you a smug grin as he handed you the paper that caused his amusement. He knew full well that this would fully shock you. So much so that you would most likely stay with him forever.

You took the paper from him and began reading. However, by the headline, you were already confused and horrified. A gasp left your lips as you continued reading. The true horrors that your husband committed came to light. Mixed emotions were flooding you as you finished reading and shakily placed the news paper down. Angry tears flowed down your cheeks as you looked at your brother who gave you a sympathetic smile, one he knew would make you believe that he had no clue about Crocodiles plan.

“I can’t believe he would be this horrible.” Yoi cried out as you cradled your face and began to sob.

“He is a pirate y/n.” Doflamingo said coming closer to you.

“I know he is, but taking over a country and planning to destroy it. That’s so fucked!” You exclaimed as you felt large arms around your body.

“I know it is. Shhh. Everything will be okay.” Doffy reassured pulling you closer to him with a satisfied grin. “I did tell you he was trouble.” He added.

“I-I know. I just thought he told me everything. He promised that he had.” You spoke through choked tears.

Your brother didn’t respond as he simply didn’t know what to say. On one had he was satisfied that you were with him once again. And that he finally had all of his family in once place. As well as the face that he was almost certain you’d let him kill Crocodile now. However, he also felt a unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He did love you and seeing you so upset made him feel slightly sympathetic and worry for you. He hated this feeling but chose to ignore his confused emotions as this is what you needed.

“What am I gonna do Doffy?” You whispered as your voice was beginning to hurt from all of the crying you had done.

“You’re going to say here with me, sweet y/n.” Doffy responded pulling away to look at you.

“How long?” You questioned.

“As long as you’d like to but if it were up to me you’d stay forever. We’re family and it’s high time we reminder that.” He told you grabbing your now puffy face and wiping your tears.

“You’re right! You’ve been right about everything!” You cried out “I’m sorry Doffy.” You whispered hugging him once again.

“That’s all in the past now.” He comforted “Why don’t we go see the rest of our family soon?” Doffy suggested

“I’d like that, thank you brother.” You spoke excitedly

“Good.” Doflamingo smiled smugly

Two Months Later…

Your life at this point was much improved. You were now apart of the family and even had some authority. It was great and you even opened a little flower shop near the castle that you ran, which Doflamingo agreed. You had also gone to therapy and opened up a lot about your marriage and about your own personal problems. You were much happier knowing that your husband was serving time for his heinous crimes.

However, during these past two months you realized that Crocodile’s absence would always leave a hole in your heart. Despite how awful he was to you, you did love him. You thought a lot about him and even began to miss him and the times that he was sweet and loving to you. Truthfully he was that way for the majority of your marriage.

Every day was hard, but Doffy and the family had made your days easier. You and baby 5 had gotten along well and you even helped her with her attachment issues and have tried to convince her to go to therapy. The rest of the family was hard to really get close with again, but you had tried your best. After all, they were people that you had been close with once upon a time.

Today, was quite hot in the beautiful kingdom of Dressrosa. You were tending to your flower shop, making sure that all of the displays were absolutely perfect. While you were focused on the task at hand, the bell to your shop went off alerting you of a customer. As you turned around you were greeted with the familiar face of Doflamingo.

“Hello there, what might you need today brother?” You smiled to him

“I assure you I’m not here for your beautiful flowers sweet sister, but I am here to let you know that’ll I’ll be gone for at least a week.” Doffy informed you as he crouched in your shop due to his enormous size.

“Where to?” You questioned

“There’s gonna be an execution. One for the pirate Portgus D. Ace, commander of the White Beard Pirates.” He said proudly.

“But that’s result in an all out war!” You told him perplexed by this information.

“Exactly. I’m ordered to go but really I wanna see how this will turn out! It’ll be a spectacle!” Doflamingo laughed making you cringe slightly

“I guess I’ll see you in a week then.” You responded trying to change the subject as you turned back to your flowers.

“Yes, you could come with me you know.” He suggested

“I’ve got work to do here. And besides who’s going to keep your family in shape while you’re gone.” You joked hanging your brother a blood red rose. He took it with a smile before placing it in his pocket.

“I suppose you could watch the broadcast.” He suggested

“Not really sure I wanna see all of that” you admitted feeling slightly sick at the thought of watching that boy die.

“Fair enough, but I do hope you will change your mind.” Doflamingo laughed slightly. “Take care of our family y/n. I’ll be back soon.” He spoke one last time before he left leaving you to your work.

“See you soon, brother.” You whispered as a strange feeling erupted in your chest. “This won’t end well.” You spoke to yourself as you continued w continued with your work.

A Few Days Later…

Doflamingo had arrived in MarineFord Mmmm a few days ago and already the war had begun. The theatrics were already amusing him as he watched the carnage. Pirate versus marine, the strongest versus the strongest. This war was right up his alley. Doflamingo only wished that you could be here to witness this, but hoped that you’d watching the transponder snail feed.

“Ah yes! Who is just the marines or the pairates! It doesn’t really matter this war will change the tides forever! Fufufufufu!” Doflamingo exclaimed happily.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Sudden voices yelled out from up above interrupting Doflamingo celebration.

“What the” Doflamingo spoke out looking up with a frown and then surprise at a massive marine ship somehow falling from the sky.

“Dammit, Ivankov!” A familiar gruff voice yell out in annoyance.

“Iva!” A child-like voice called out.

“We’re all gonna die!” Two male voices caked out in terror.

And just as fast as he heard those voices, they were sent plummeting down into the hole in the ice below that was made not too long ago. This spectacle was enough to catch the attention of everyone on the battlefield. Faces agape at the sight making the fighting stop.

“Dammit straw hat!” The same familiar gruff voice called only this time the person was much clearer.

“Well I’ll be dammed!” Doflamingo called out to none other than Sir Crocodile.

“Shit.” Crocodile whispered to himself

Doflamingo quickly made his way to Crocodile, killing random people on the way there. As he was approaching, he took notice of Crocodile’s sad attempt at attacking Whitebeard only to be stopped by both straw hat and one of Whitebeards commanders. Crocodile was sent flying backwards as blood dripped down his nose.

“Well hey there gatorboy!” Doflamingo greeted looking down at Crocodile.

“Doflamingo stay out of my business or else!” Crocodile but back wiping the blood from his nose.

“Your business! Your business! Your businesses is now thriving with me after you left her broken!” Doflamingo laughed

“What the hell are you yapping about!”Crocodile responded

“Your dear wife came crying to me after she left you!” Doflamingo

“She in Dressrosa?” Crocodile questioned already starting to make a plan to go to you.

“Yes! Where she belongs.” Doflamingo spoke

“She’s my wife!” Crocodile barked

“And she’s my sister and I can assure you, you’ll never see her again!” Doflamingo laughed.

“Dammit Doflamingo! She’s mine!” Crocodile replied grabbing him by the shirt

“You know she might be watching gator boy! Wouldn’t want to let her see you assault her brother, would you now? Fufufu!” Doflamingo teased

Crocodile then promptly let him go feeling nervous that you might be watching. Anxiety then crept and he decided then that he’d better act right hoping that maybe you’d see that he was a better man than the last time you had seen him.

“Damn, didn’t realize my sweet sister had such a tight leash on you gator boy.” Doflamingo joked

“Maybe I just want to my wife to see the giants she deseves.” Crocodile whispered sadly

“Let’s just hope she’s looking then.” Doflamingo responded seriously confused at Crocodiles change in demeanor.

Meanwhile, back to you a few moments earlier…

You had completed your work for the day. As you closed your flower shop and made your way back to the castle you thought of your brother mentioning the broadcast at marineford and how anyone could view it if they had a video transponder snail, to which the castle did.

“Fuck it.” You whispered realizing that you were very much in fact interested in what would happen.

And thus, as you walked into the castle you set your sights on the room you knew had what you needed. As you made your way there you wondered what was going on now and what did you miss. You felt as though something happened that you had to see. Something that could change everything for you and you had no idea why yet. So, as you arrived at the room you immediately started to turn on the video transponder snail in hopes that the broadcast would work. After a little trial and error you got the massive snail working and connected to the one at Marine ford. The feed started playing and immediately you saw the massive battle that had happened and was now continuing. Pirate versus marine, the best verses the best. This was, in your mind, the war that would determine the change the world forever.

“The fucking brutality.” You spoke out eyes glued to the screen.

You noticed your brother in the corner of the screen laughing and saying some big speech that you agreed with and then;seemingly out of nowhere, a missive ship crash landed in a almost too perfect opening in the ice below. You gasped at the sight not realizing what had just happened. It was bizarre to be sure but was most bizarre was the reaction your brother had to it. He was quick to leave his post and go to the action.

“What the hell is he doing?” You wondered knowing something like this was not likely to make your brother leave the comfort of his stand. He is a king after all.

You watched your brother closely as he landed right before a giant man seemingly made of diamonds and someone who had just gotten punched by him. The video was hard to see due to all of the fight king and debris in the air. But with further focus you finally realized the reason for Doflmingos haste and why he would even be remotely interested in leaving from his viewing spot. It was a person; a person still so dear to you and who you still loved deeply much to your own disappointment. As it was none other than your husband.

“Crocodile?” You whispered to yourself feeling like the world itself had stopped.

Thank you so much for reading!💜 Gonna make 1-2 more part(s) for this story! Stay Tuned! Please let me know what you thought of this part!!

Tag list: @emmaiscool22 @carmendanny2 @oofitty @ushoppu @a-goblin-named-cherry @iloved1lfs0 @sunnyferr @lucacangettathisass @eyes-ofhell

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment, follow, request, and reblog!

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

Part 1 Part 2

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Helloooo, I’m not sure if you still do requests on One Piece characters or anything- but if you do I have a scenario in mind. I was wondering if you could do one specifically with Traflagar Law who has a S/O which gets injured and refuses his help. The S/O has a problem with accepting help and has trouble being vulnerable in front of others- only seeing it as weakness. This could also work for the other more colder One Piece characters…cause idk they just have a special place in my heart. (Though if you can’t that’s okay, but I thought I’d ask)

ALSO I read lots of your posts and absolutely love your scenarios and head-cannons, you literally portray all the characters so well and it’s amazing.

This is the cutest ask and thank you omg😭

I hope this is good🫶

And little trigger warning for descriptions of injury and blood at the beginning, I'll put a line so you know where to skip to if you don't want to read that bit.

I totally accidentally posted this so now I'm writing as it's up, forgive me😞 OKAY IT'S IN A FINISHED STATE I MAY ADD MORE AFTER I FORCE MY FRIEND TO READ OVER IT🕺🏻🕺🏻

I don't know if I'm happy with the length either i kinda feel it should be longer.

-

The soft, shlick of a blade through flesh rings in your ears. The adrenaline rushing through your body swallows any pain in an instant, but you can feel the pressure as it drags into your side and you wince anyway.

But you can't stop.

If you stop he's going to get past, he's going to hurt the people you call a family and so you can't stop.

His frame is hulking, freakishly tall and looming over you. The level of brute force he's exerting has your heart stuttering in fear, the staccato rhythm making you feel light headed. Though that could be the blood that's dripping from your side.

You hit his sternum, hard, and feel a crack. He stumbles, dazed, your fist comes up to head height and your aim is killer as it slams into the side of the man's head.

He's out cold.

The sigh of relief that exits your body almost overshadows the sudden pain resonating throughout your torso. Without an oncoming threat, you're able to take the time to lift your shirt and look at the damage. It's mostly mottled bruising but just under your lowest left rib is a long but shallow cut. Not life threatening in any way but still inconvenient.

It hurts to breathe and you're not sure if your rib bones are fully intact either, not with the way he was hitting.

The adrenaline is fading quickly, you needed to get him inside.

He'd crumpled into a very ungraceful pile when you knocked him out and it's difficult to tie him securely. But you do. And then you take a deep breath and haul him up over your shoulders in a botched fireman's lift.

Your captain would want to find out who decided it would be a good idea to send someone after the heart pirates.

Your captain would...

The last thing you think about before you hit the deck face first is him.

-

He's silent as he works.

It's almost unnerving actually, how quiet he can be when he wants to.

"Law-"

The look he shoots you is so intense that you physically shrink back, mouth closing as you drop your gaze to the floor.

He lets out a heavy sigh as he finishes disinfecting the last of his tools before he turns to you.

"What is wrong with you."

He's angry, you can feel it radiating off him, it digs into the soft underbelly of your emotions and you bristle at his words.

"I was just doing my job" Your tone is sharp but he doesn't flinch.

"Your job does not involved getting killed you idiot."

"Well I didn't get killed so it's not that big of a deal"

He looks like he's about to blow a gasket, the vein in his forehead pulsing with the renewed blood flow.

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal?"

You have the distinct feeling that you might've fucked up a little. That still doesn't stop you from digging a deeper hole to be buried in.

"I'm fine just let me deal with my own problems"

His eye actually twitches but you keep talking.

"It's barely a scratch, I don't need help- especially not yours."

The thunderous anger on his face is now accompanied by hurt, but his voice is soft when he says,

"Let me help you"

"I just said I don't need help"

"I don't think that you know what you need"

That stings. To know he doesn't trust your judgement after everything you've been through. There's a pressure at the back of your throat now and it's so uncomfortable, you need to leave.

But as you go to move, Law is much quicker as he grabs you by your upper arm, pulling you into his space.

"Where are you going"

You don't look at him.

He sighs before his other arm comes around your waist and he lifts, walking across the room to set you down onto a table.

"Why don't you understand that I care about you"

The emotion in his voice unsettles you, makes your chest feel tight and you really don't want to deal with this.

He's gentle as he gets to work on your injuries, easily cleaning and stitching up your side before moving to bind your ribs.

"I need you to remove your shirt"

Your hands are shaking, he hasn't really seen the full extent and you're sure he's not going to respond well. It's hard to get the buttons of your shirt undone so when a second pair of hands come up, you don't push them away. But him being closer means you hear the exact moment he realises how bad it is, his inhale is sharp and he says something in a language you don't know.

"Why didn't you call for backup?"

You take a while to respond, trying to squash down any emotion in your voice,

"I didn't need it"

"Did you want it?"

The question makes you squirm with discomfort, your eyes water.

"It doesn't matter because I didn't need it"

He sighs again. That's all you seem to be making him do today.

And then his arms are coming up around you, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and closer to him. One of his hands rests on your back and the other pushes your head into the crook of his shoulder, allowing you a semblance of privacy in such an intimate moment.

"You need to understand that not letting us help you is counterintuitive to being part of a crew"

The statement makes you flinch and you try to push away from him but that fight took a lot of your strength. His grip tightens anyways.

"Do you think I find it easy to be vulnerable?"

"...No"

"Do you think I would want you to die?"

You don't respond this time, chest heaving as you tremble.

"It's not easy to see you like this. You are not a human shield."

"I know" Your voice is quiet and thick with tears but he seems to relax slightly at your agreement.

The hand on your back is moving in gentle shapes, but his grip is still firm, as if he's trying to affirm that you're here and alive.

"I can't have a crew member that doesn't trust anyone"

You tense.

"I can't have a partner that won't be vulnerable with me"

Guilt and dread roll through your stomach. Surely he doesn't mean-

"I can't trust that you won't die because you feel can't rely on others so you're benched until we work through it"

Oh. You actually feel a bit relieved, you thought he was going in a much different direction. You lean back out of his hold so you can look at his face through wet eyes.

His expression is soft but he looks tired and the guilt rears it's head again.

"I'm sorry"

Somehow his expression gets even softer,

"I know"

He kisses you then. It's grounding, brings you back to a semblance of calm and you almost wonder why you were so apprehensive in the first place. He's gentle and warm and you feel slightly self conscious that your lips might be puffy from crying but you don't pull away.

It's reverent, like he worships you.

You think you could learn to let him take care of you.

You think you would let him do anything.

If it feels like this.

[piftamere]

part five - stunned (wc : 0.5k words if you don't want to read there's a tl:dr just under it!)

As you stepped off stage, still feeling exhilarated from your first gig, you saw a freakishly tall man approach you, a smirk on his face.

When you recognized who he was, you inadvertently grimaced.

Come on, let’s be mature, i shouldn't base my opinion of him on hearsay. You thought, taking a deep breath and replacing your expression with a polite smile.

"Hey!" he greeted with a toothachingly sweet voice "I just wanted to come by and congratulate you, it was a really good performance, for a beginner artist like you." He was probably trying to flatter you, but instead sounded impossibly condescending.

Ok, so maybe the rumors were true.

"Thanks." Your voice and expression were deadpan. "Can I ask how you got backstage?"

"No, it's a secret," he winked at you, flashing a playful smile. However, when he noticed that you didn't even flinch at his joke, let alone laugh, he quickly added, "The security guard let me in because he's a big fan of me."

You wondered if he could sound even fuller of himself… and made a mental note to hire stricter security next time.

Deciding to be polite you replied "I have to admit you make good music, I've been a fan of Geto since forever."

He noticed the hint of admiration in your voice, making him relax a little.

"Not of me huh? I'm hurt." he pouted, taking the liberty of teasing you. "Geto was the one who invited me and i'm glad he did… I really liked 'before you can', i think that's my favorite from tonight."

Your eyes widened a little, "Really? I'm… surprised, it's a little sadder than the others. To be honest, it's my favorite one too."

"Surprised I'm more than a pretty face?" He teased again.

"I never said that." You rolled your eyes but the corners of your mouth tilted up slightly, he noticed that too.

“Can i ask what it’s about or if it’s about your own experience?”

Even if he could be genuinely interested, you can't help but decline. "Sorry, but it's a little too personal."

“Shame.” he paused and smiled “Can i get your phone number?”

You couldn’t suppress the frown on your face. He choked a little at your visible disgust and laughed awkwardly, passing a hand through his hair. “For business reasons, sorry I should have clarified.”

Only half convinced, you gave him your number, worst-case scenario you could simply block him.

After typing it in his phone, a hint of mischief in his eyes, he continued “You didn’t have to look so horrified that i might be hitting on you though, I’m deeply wounded.” his voice dramatic as ever, a hand on his heart.

“How will you ever recover?” you retorted, smiling. Without giving him a chance to respond, you said "It was… nice meeting you, but i gotta go. Bye!!"

And with that you disappeared behind a door, leaving Gojo Satoru stunned.

[tl:dr : gojo comes backstage, he’s arrogant (and a tiny bit charming), he congratulates you, asks for your number for “business reasons”, you give it to him and you leave quickly.]

fun facts

gojo really didn't notice he was condescending until shoko pointed it out

y/n doesn't know what to think of gojo yet...

author's note

ilovegojosatoru

i've eaten cereals in orange juice and it's not that bad tbh

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part five - Next

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

taglist : open :) to be added leave a comment on the masterlist of the smau

@lysaray @swissy23 @d6za1 @minzxec @sleepy-waffle @saturn-alone @dreamxiing @reiluvr @nikkimvriee @mellozhi @cre8ing @ichorstainedskin @inosfavgf

[leighaltieri]

keep me warm; stu macher x reader

request: Wouldn't it be SO crazy if you wrote a little Stu fluff fic for a male reader. Unthinkable even. I would sell my soul though

summary: you get cold on your first date, luckily stu is there to keep you warm

warnings: fluff, male reader

word count: 674

notes: my first request! i hope you enjoy it anon <3 this is my first time writing a stu fic so i hope he's not too ooc

read on ao3 | scream masterlist

You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth as you stepped out of the Wendy’s into the cold night air. When Stu picked you up for your first date, it was warm out, so you didn’t think you’d need a jacket. But after seeing a movie and eating a burger that tasted like delicious cardboard, the sun had set, and the summer heat had turned cold.

“Want me to walk you home?” Stu asked, turning to look at you. He noticed you shivering. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little cold.”

“Where’s your jacket?”

“At home. Didn’t think I’d need one.” You could hardly finish your sentence before Stu was wrapping his arms around you, trying to warm you up. “This better?” He was so warm, like a giant radiator. You hugged him back while he rubbed your back and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon, bro, let’s get you home.” He pulled away from the hug and lifted his beige sweater over his head, leaving him in just a white t-shirt. “Put this on, it’ll keep you warm.”

“You’ll freeze, dumbass.” 

He stuck his tongue out at you. “Hey! You're so mean to me. Just take it.” 

You put the sweater on, it was too long because Stu was freakishly tall, but it warmed you up and it smelled strongly of his Axe body spray. You rolled the sleeves up a little to free your hands and Stu intertwined his long fingers with yours.

“Thank you.” You said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’re welcome,” He grinned, “Can’t have you freezing to death, can we?”

You laughed and playfully shoved him with your shoulder. The two of you began to walk down the dimly lit street, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet, peaceful night.

You only lived a five minute walk from the Wendy’s, so it didn’t take long for you to get home. You walked up the steps to your front door, stopping in front of it to face Stu. You started to take off his sweater, but he grabbed your wrist before you could get it over your head. 

“Keep it, it looks good on you.” He grinned, letting go of your wrist. His eyes met yours and although it was dark, you swore you could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Thanks, Stu,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Of course,” For a moment, you stayed silent, just looking into each others’ eyes. But then, Stu took a deep breath, “I should probably get going,” he said.

You nodded, feeling disappointed, but it was getting late.

“Goodnight, Stu,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his grin widening as he turned and began to walk away. You watched him leave, then turned around to unlock your door. You were about to step inside when you heard him yell your name. You turned back and saw him running back to you, a determined look on his face.

“Stu, what are you-”

He hesitated for a moment, then cupped your cheeks and gently pressed his lips to yours. Your heart raced as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his slender waist. After a short while you pulled away, your faces still close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your lips. He had a stupidly large grin on his face as he looked into your eyes.

“Be my boyfriend?” He asked, slightly out of breath from the running and the kiss.

You knew the answer before he’d even asked the question. “Yes.”

His grin widened as he leaned in and kissed you again. His lips were warm and soft against yours and you smiled into the kiss. You made out for a while on your doorstep, until Stu finally broke the kiss.

“I actually do have to get home,” He said, “But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” You couldn’t stop smiling as you replied. Stu kissed you one last time before he started walking home, grinning like an idiot.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Let me preface this by saying this not a usual Reader Drabble, this is for my OC "Stone" who is a Fleet Marine Corpsman in the U.S. Navy who is lent to the Task Force 141 to be their medic as a gesture of goodwill between the U.S. and the UK. And all of 17 of you know of him from "Save Me from Myself (Chapter 1)" and I most likely will not be updating that any time soon because I have not finished writing a work since late 2022-early 2023 and I just keep looking at the unfinished chapter two of "Save Me from Myself" and wanting to curl up in a ball because I'm not motivated.

But I do have little bits of brain rot for Stone, so here it is. Okay, so Stone is cold and stoic, right? He's not one for making friends and he's freakishly tall (at 6'8") so he's an intimidating man when combined with his lack of friendliness. But still, he's too good of a Corpsman for the Task Force to turn him away. So they just deal with his behavior, grimacing whenever he patches them up efficiently but roughly because the man has no proper bedside manner.

But interactions with him can get... weird, almost. Especially with regarding his masala chai that he makes every morning for himself.

He'll glare at Ghost if Ghost comes around the stove while Stone's making the chai and maybe he'll growl beneath his muzzle-like mask if Ghost pushes his luck by asking for a cup (or cuppa as the British people say).

But then one day, Ghost looks particularly weary, in body language alone of course, and all of a sudden, a cup of chai is pushed into his hands and before he even realizes it, Stone is walking down the hallway like he didn't just give Ghost a cup of chai.

After a particularly rough day of working and just being basically holed up in his office doing so much paperwork, Price comes to his barracks for the night and there it is.

A lone, hot cup of chai on his nightstand, waiting for Price to drink it so that he could relax enough to sleep.

There's no Stone in sight, because that would've been so creepy, but Price knows it's from the tall, cold Corpsman because he can smell the Indian spices when he picks the cup up to drink. And the trend continues whenever Price is feeling absolutely exhausted but also has his mind racing too much to sleep.

Gaz knows better than to try and drink Stone's chai, he's seen how Stone reacted to Ghost asking for a cup. So he most likely just tries his best to be out of the recreational room in the mornings so that he's out of the woods of interacting with Stone while Stone's making the chai.

But one day, he woke up after one of the worst nightmares he's had in a while and he stumbles into the recreational room and there Stone is, making his chai. And Gaz, like a total sweetheart, just says good morning and even though he's eyeing that hot chai that would totally soothe him and his racing heart, he forces himself to go to the fridge and take out some food for breakfast. Only for Stone to slide over a cup of chai over to him after a few minutes, looking anywhere except Gaz like he hadn't just done something. (Yes, I think Stone would like Gaz more than the rest, enough that he'd be around Gaz after giving him some chai.)

Soap getting a cup of chai is the funniest, because he doesn't like tea. He's the only one who doesn't eye Stone's cups of chai, but he too cannot escape Stone giving him a cup.

It happens when Soap gets sick, the Sergeant having gotten a cold after a previous mission in a rather colder climate and he hadn't been properly covered up fully. He's sort of still in a sickly haze, but he's able to be up and about, kinda.

He was straight up just stumbling a bit as he moved along the base hallways, when all of a sudden he just gets pulled into the recreational room and to the couch. He gets sat down and a cup of chai is placed in his hands, Stone's heavy footsteps walking out of the room the only indication Soap has that it was in fact Stone who pulled him into the room.

And he's so tempted not to drink the chai, hates the way tea tastes and he doesn't think Stone's will be any better, but his sore throat begs him to, so he eventually drinks it. And lo and behold, he actually likes it better than any of the teas Ghost, Price, and Gaz make.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[days-until-burnout]

Day 4 -

Characters - Pearl/Geminitay Words - 480 Time - 15 mins Content - fluff | gem being down bad

“G’day!”

Gem nearly dropped the tray, knocked another other tray over, and made a bigger mess of flour—all from just a greeting. She turned towards the voice, heart jumping to her throat as she did. It was her confirmation. Her reassurance that she was, in fact, doomed.

“Mornin’ Gem!” Pearl greeted again, soft smile still on her lips. A strand of brown hair fell over her eye when she tilted her head, that curious look in her eyes. Gem was never insecure nor cared about her height the way Joel did, but she had half the mind to admit that yes, Pearl was freakishly tall. “Did I scare you? You know I don’t mean to, you know that, right, Gem?”

“Uh– Ye– Yeah, I know, it’s okay– It’s okay, Pearl. Just, you know,” she set the tray down, pushed the other closer to the middle too. She was lucky Joel wasn’t in, or anyone for that matter, she would like to live this down eventually. She straightened her apron, only smearing flour into it so she looked away, composed herself as best as she could, “Was just in my head. Thinking about stuff… Important stuff! Very… um… important, yeah…”

Pearl’s eyes twinkled, softly. Her smile remained smitten, and Gem refused to believe it was for her. Instead, she tapped the table, straightened herself, and put on a facade.

“Anyways! How can I help you today, Pearl? You’re a bit early, so there’s not much ready yet. But I can definitively take your order and you can have dibs on whatever you want!”

“Oh!” Pearl lit up, jumped a little. Her fists raised and she did a little cheer, some small dance, then they went behind her back as she took a step forward, leaning closer to Gem, too close she might heart Gem’s pounding heart. “But, won’t Joel be mad at you? Everyone knows how he gets.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Gem said quietly, playfully. She mustered courage to look at her, gave her a wink as she brought her index to her lips. She smiled, for her, genuinely. 

And how could Gem not melt when Pearl smiled back?

This was worth it. This moment with Pearl, their little secret. She could deal with Joel later, she’d fight the world twice over if it meant she could have this quiet moment with Pearl in the early morning hours. The sky dark, few people awake, just them in the bakery kitchen. 

Alone. 

All alone.

The thought made Gem’s heart skip again, and it wasn’t a train of thought she could afford to board. Not when Pearl was walking closer, asking about products available. Gem couldn’t spare thoughts, not a single thought, not when Pearl’s hand brushed hers when they both reached for the pad of paper. 

She was never going to hear the end of it once Joel found out.

_____

continuation of day 3, which means that day 5 might be the joel one. maybe. not sure but very likely, if i dont come up with anything else tomorrow lol on another note, first time writing gempearl. this was literally me 2 mins into writing

also, unrelated, but tagging is like my least favorite thing to do. on tumblr and even on ao3. which is why the tags remain pretty simple, and i will most likely keep them the same aside from shipping/non-shipping, suggestive (and nsfw if i ever do) tags that i will sort out on the weekend. but but but, eh, anything bad is literally at the top where content is

[distortedclouds]

hi hello I'm here to overanalyze every single line in that tiktok yes yes indeed

Eren: "other members of the 104th Training Corps, like Krista Lenz?"

FUCK YOU EREN!!!

I can't believe he straight up goes "your type is short and blonde, so Krista?" WE KNOW ARMIN IS AN ASSHOEL PIECE OF SHIT WITH A PARTICULAR TYPE YOU DONT HAVE TO CALL HIM OUT ON IT LIKE THAT!!!

*****

Eren: "But Annie is very hard to understand"

Armin: "She is very hard to understand at first but if she opened her heart to someone it would be amazing…"

DEFENDING HIS GIRLFRIEND SINCE 2014(?) I CANT BELIEVE THIS FUCKING SIMP I LOVE HIM!

the way he KNOWS there's a softer Annie underneath all the ice. A softer all blushy and cuddly Annie duqeodniwebfweifbwef

****

Armin: "Also Annie has a different attitude (to Armin)

Eren: "It would be great for Armin as an adult"

🌚🌚🌚 Yes, indeed, Eren. Yes, Indeed.

*****

I CANT BELIEVE IT THEY GO INTO THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!!!!!! SHE'S FUCKING TINY AND THEY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT!! AND THIS IS BEFORE THEY ALL BECAME FREAKISHLY TALL DUDES IN THEIR LATE TEENS FIOEWNWENFWOENFWERKPWJF

Armin: "the 10 cm difference is perfect"

you know what's even more perfect? MORE THAN 10CM!!!!! (WHICH IS FUCKING CANON HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA)

Also i love the whole "there's no high heels in that world" EXACTLY keep my girl comfortable and short and shortly comfortable and comfortably short!

like of ALL THINGS they could've talked about, it's the height difference. WIFE COME GET YOUR HEIGHT KINK VALIDATES BY THE VAS!!!!

******

Eren: ""Holding hands" does sound like Armin's style"

IT'S CANON!!! ARMIN IS A FUCKING HAND-HOLDER!!!! HE'S A HOLDER OF LITTLE HANDS!!!!!

🫠🫠🫠 fucking date-gores behavior while the world's ending...

****

Eren: "Never had a happy holiday"

....oh

Eren why must you say it like that. It's true we all know but WHY FUCK!!!

girl has NEVER has a happy holiday!!! you hear that Armin!?!?!? better start working on changing that bullshit!

****

Armin: "So Armin wants to show her some cute hair accessories and tell her "Annie, I am sure it fits you well.""

HE BUYS HER HAIR SHIT AND ACCESSORIES!!!?!?!?!

Armin: "Yes, she would show a cold look"

Eren: "But she would still wear it all the time!"

Armin: "I would say she wears it alone in her own room."

Connie: "And smiles when Armin can't see her."

I dont know how accurate this is since we found out that she's a blushing mess at the slightest mention/ interaction with Armin but i would LOVE to see her trying to keep it cool but she's screaming giggling kicking her feet in her room over a cute hair pin or something!!!

[maybe-limerence]

Royal Enchantment Academy pt. 2

Pairing: GN! Moth fae! Darling x Yandere! Flower folk

A/N: I know this is super late, but I’m back. I’ll attempt to stick to my word of being back. Also, should I give the flower folk actually names?

Darling facts: Moth darling is freakishly tall (mentioned in poppy part) and shy (mentioned in all parts).

Trigger warnings: manipulation (iris), light smut (lily), MILD! self hatred (peony), violence (poppy). Hibiscus does no wrong, let’s all say thank you hibiscus.

Iris (He/They)

wisdom, hope, trust, and valor

Iris loves you. So so much. He’s such a gentleman, holding doors, always sticking up for you, offering to speak for you when you’re struggling to find words. Always doing it with a smile.

Iris’s obsession starts spiraling when you first start going to him, needing him. His tendency to show up out of nowhere becomes common. (of course he wasn’t stalking you! Just trying to keep you safe! Don’t you know it isn’t safe for sweet little moths like you? The world is scary, why not let him accompany you at least?).

Iris definitely feeds into your fear of people, slowly making you more and more dependent on him ‘til you’re basically his pet, never talking to anyone else, too scared. And they thrive on that fact.

“Darling, who was that you were talking to? Don’t you know they hate your kind? No no, it’s not your fault, but I’d suggest you stick with me when talking to them. You know, in case they try to hurt you. I’ll always protect you darling, I love you,”

(Personality Matches for IRIS: sweet, innocent, shy)

Lily (She/Her)

purity, innocence, rebirth, femininity and fertility

Lily and you only interacted once and it was awkward. Both of you are quiet and shy. When you finally stuttered out a compliment, her heart almost burst. Most people thought you were “weird” or “creepy” (you liked the darker parts of life, but that was just because of your species), but Lily found you gorgeous.

That night she couldn’t stop herself from smiling and touching herself, imagining it was your long fingers inside her cunt. She wondered if you would fuck her hard with your cock/strap or if you would make sweet love and oh look she came again!

Lily spiraled into obsession after that night. She always look effortless pretty, but amped it up to gain your attention (which worked but you were too shy to say anything, believing you were too scary for her. Oh if only you knew how badly she craved you). If you two ever, by some miracle, ever got together, be prepared for her constant want to be filled with you, dripping wet and restless. She’ll promise one round and keep going til you’re both passed out.

“P-please, one more round, just one more. We’ll stop after that, I promise. Please? Yes? I love you darling!”

(Personality Matches for LILY: kinky, kind, shy)

Peony (They/Them)

love, honor, happiness wealth, romance, and beauty

Peony was actually a little afraid of you. They found you beautiful, they find everyone beautiful, but they didn’t know you very well.

One day, you silently tapped their shoulder, startling them. They looked at you so scared that you felt disgusted in yourself, but you still gave them their watch. Peony looked incredulously at your gesture, and wanted to thank you, but you had already bolted out of the food court. The realization of their cruelty put them on the verge of tears.

Peony’s slip into obsession was when they saw you the next week (you avoided them for that long, not wanting to be looked at like that again). You looked worn and beat down, but still really pretty. Something about your slightly disheveled appearance sparked a sense to protect you (even though they were the reason you started hating yourself, but shhh don’t tell them that).

“Oh darling, I wish I could make all the bad things go away, then it’d be just you and me. I love you,”

(Personality matches for PEONY: shy, quiet, selfless)

Hibiscus (any/all)

positivity, joy, and cheer

Hibiscus (my favorite !!) is honestly way too nice for his own good, I feel like you were his tutor, considering Hibiscus is… below average intelligence-wise. Hibiscus radiated positive vibes though, even if he has no thoughts in her head. Hibiscus was the first person to hear your laugh. As soon as he heard you let out an unashamed laugh, it was all over. You consume his mind, you live there rent free, good job, you now have a puppy.

But in all honesty, Hibiscus does everything for you, if only to see you happy (like a VERY toned down version of Iris).

Hibiscus’s spiral into obsession was when he first made you laugh even though you both got scolded by the librarian. They always thought you were pretty, just a little gloomy. But when she saw your happy face? God, he felt his heart was going to burst. They cancel plans for you, they take you out on “payments” (dates, basically), if they find something you might like (like a pretty rock or a piece of jewelry) they get it to give to you.

“Hey, look at this book! Oh, you’ve been wanting it for a while but it’s never in stock? I’ll get it for you! Yes, I know I got you a new outfit and some jewelry, so? Awe, you’re worried! It’s nothing, so put that worry out of your head. I love you!”

(Personality Matches for HIBISCUS: shy, smart, patient)

Poppy (He/Him)

sleep and peace

Poppy hated you at first, believing you were giving your species a bad reputation. Fae are supposed to be masters of manipulation and fighting, and you were too… weak. Though, one day, the gym teacher decided to do sparring as a unit. Everyone refused to be pair up with you considering the rumors about your kind and how you towered over everyone. Well, everyone except Poppy.

Poppy took you for a pushover, attempting to land aggressive blows on you, but you dodged and knocked him on his ass. When he tried to get up, you pushed him down so hard the air was knocked out of his lungs. And as he tried to catch his breath, his bitchy girlfriend yelling at you, he couldn’t help but fall in love.

You genuinely thought he hated you considering he often challenged you to fights, which you always said no too. He believed it to be you not wanting to hurt him, which he admired and thought was genuinely sweet of you.

Poppy’s obsession started that day you beat him in gym class, his hatred turning into addiction adoration. When Poppy eventually asks you out, two days after breaking up with his bitch girlfriend, you most likely turn him down, believing him to be making fun of you or want to use you as a relapse or something to get back at his ex. He believes you’re playing hard to get, and he loves that about you.

“C’mon, just one punch? No? Can I at least take you out sometime? Eh, whatever, I still love you.”

(Personality Matches for POPPY: Badass, calm, shy)

[floydstruly]

fallin’, fallin’, frozen, slowly.

synopsis: ice skater au featuring you and the tweels! a short birthday special I wanted to do for them

cw. none! as always, this is not proofread!! but also, reader wears hair clips in jade’s part (?) if you’re worried about that also jade calls the reader princess oopsies??

note. working on my requests I swear ^__^ also!! thank you to platinum jacket floyd for coming home I have all the birthday floyd cards now <33 (blatant floyd bias)

pairing: floyd leech x gn!reader / jade leech c gn!reader

Floyd Leech as the most snarky, smug captain of a hockey team. He’s prideful, almost too prideful you’d say. He’s loud and rowdy, just like the rest of his team, you hate him, you hate him to all hell.

You, on the other hand, are a figure skater, with the misfortune of sharing an ice rink with Floyd. 

Whenever he watches you practise, he cheers you on, but in a way that makes you embarrassed, in a way that makes your face red, in a way that makes you just wish he was dead already. 

To him, it’s friendly banter, to you, it’s mocking. 

Before he knows it, he falls in love with you, it’s hard not to, with all the time you spend together. But really, you wouldn’t dream of dating him. So every time he confesses or asks you out on a date, you refuse. He takes it as a challenge.

A sharp turn, a twirl–the thin fabric of your sparkly costume does no favours to keep yourself warm. Though, on the contrary, you’ve never felt more alive. Your cheeks puff out, red, your body cutting through the cold wind as you land, the blades of your skates shaving off the ice into little shards when you halt to an abrupt stop. There’s clapping, whistling, and hollering in the distance, then, a familiar–annoying–shrill voice cheering for you.

There is no mistaking it, really, it was hard to do in the first place. Floyd Leech, the insufferable captain of the local hockey team. You scoff at the title though, it’s not like they’re very well known–and yet, they play with so much vigour every time you spare a glance at them.

You hate the hockey team, they’re loud, they’re rowdy and on the off chance that they show up to practise before you, they ruin the ice. Floyd is no exception, actually, he may be the one you hate most, chaotic. He’s the embodiment of chaos–the complete opposite to your composure. 

You heaved a long sigh, still out of breath as you took a bow for the judges–your eyebrows furrowing when you were forced off the ice and met with those two mismatched eyes. His lanky body blocks your way, his arm leans against the exit. 

“What do you want? You’re early today.” you ask, arms crossed and not even bothering to look him in the eyes. Yes, he was early today, usually, he’d come a couple minutes later, your practice wasn’t even close to finished yet, “you’ve come to annoy me, is that it?”

“No!” he insists quickly, for a moment, he almost seems hurt. That would never be the case, you know better–he laughs after his initial response and backtracks with that smug smile on his face. One that you would do anything to wipe off. “Well, yes! I always do that, y’know that already, shrimpy. That’s besides the point.”

“Then get to the point.”

“You’re always so mean!” he whines, how childish–you can only roll your eyes, with nothing left to say, you try to leave and slip out of the small free space by his side. He’s quick to block your way, it’s not hard, he’s so freakishly tall.

“Hey! I have something to say!” 

“I gave you a chance to say it.” you dodge when he tries to hug you, nearly slipping on the ice. God, how embarrassing. 

He plays the hero, he catches you just barely as you are falling. The air is knocked out of your lungs, your eyes find anywhere else to look at but him–he would be the last person that you would expect to help you. Yet, there you are, your cheeks red from the cold and your heart pounding in your eyes from the adrenaline. You look him in the eyes.

“Hah! You’re real pretty like that.” he pulls you up, perhaps with a little too much strength because he falls over too, your head lands on his chest. You can hear the gentle thump of his heart. 

“Let's go on a date!” he says abruptly, “yeah, I just remembered what I wanted to say just now.”

“On a date?” you look up at him, his arm still wrapped around you. It’s warm now, yet, your cheeks are still red, not from the temperature, but from something else, something new, something you refuse to admit. 

“Go to hell!” you shuffle back onto your feet, or, you try to, the ground is still slippery–you’re still in your skates. You fall back onto him.

He only laughs, “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Jade Leech as a figure skater, your upperclassman, someone who you admire. He’s always so graceful, elegant, calculated with the way he moves his body.

He practises with you frequently, only because you catch him when he is headed on the ice and soon, it becomes a friendship, then something that’s borderline partnership when he decides he wants to skate with you as a partner. 

When you watch him practise, you’re always mesmerised, even more so when you are there with him, close to him, he’s almost within your grasp.

He’s cheeky, teases you. But it’s fine, you suppose, you get to see a side of him that very few get to see. Something sincere underneath that mask of his, that always cold wall that separates him and the rest of the world, save for a select few people.

Your heartbeat drowns it out. Everything, the judges watching the two of you intently, the clash of your skates against the ice, his breath against your skin–it’s warm, the only thing that keeps you in reality while you are in his arms dancing an elaborate waltz on ice. The music plays, you make a couple missteps, you can’t help it. He’s gorgeous.

The gentle sway of his body as he guides your amateurish steps into the routine. You really don’t even care that you are being graded on this performance nor the fact that you are embarrassing yourself. At least you think you are. He looks down at you with such a gentle smile, you nearly forget everything you’ve learnt. 

Then the music ceases with one final beat, he stands beside you, his body in a deep bow–you can barely see him breathing. Meanwhile, you are trying to catch your breath frantically. Only now, do you see the distance in skill between the two of you. Not that you mind, it gives you more time to spend with him, look at him, at those fascinating eyes of his. 

“Good work today.” he says, he’s already back into his regular running shoes, as you fumble back onto the ground outside the ice rink–clumsily, still in your godforsaken skates, his soothing voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” you look around, there’s no one else he could be referring to, still, you think you’ve done far from ‘good’, maybe mediocre or bad would be the right word to describe it, “me?”

“Yes, you.” he places his hand on your cheek, it’s still cold. You notice, but you don’t flinch, he’s always cold. He always seems distant, in another world, one that you can’t reach, one that keeps you so infatuated with him. Everything about him seems almost otherworldly. He carries himself with such refined movements.

He ruffles your hair, undoing all the knots and hair clips that you put in earlier. The accessories fall out of place and onto the floor. He laughs, his usually gentle–yet, never over the top smile is broken, he seems human again, if not, only just for a fleeting moment.

“Hey!” you chase after him as he runs away from you, kicking away all your hair clips all over the place. Of course, you don’t catch him, you fall face flat onto the floor when the blades of your skates slip. 

“Oh my.” he’s still laughing, hysterically–or, as hysteric as he can get. He helps you up, almost like a prince would a princess and you swear your heart skips a beat. Perhaps he notices too, because he kisses the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay, my princess?” 

“Oh, shut up!” you push him away, despite enjoying the moment, a part of you doesn’t want to admit it. But you know that he knows, he knows every little detail about you.

“Now, now, that isn’t any way to speak to an upperclassman.” he brings himself closer to you, closer, and closer–close enough to give you a kiss on the lips. Of course, he doesn’t, he sweeps you off your feet and holds you in place.

You squeeze your eyes shut, there’s something faint on your cheek, it lingers for quite a while–his lips.

“Now you’ve done it!” before you know it, you are chasing him again, falling–head over heels again.

[fairyniceyeah]

10 writing tips 

for new and old writers from somebody who has been writing since she could hold a pen and needs these reminders herself sometimes

(they will have sickfic and K-Pop examples but generally can work for anybody)

Some days will suck! You may have writer’s block or you may not be able to concentrate or for some other reason things don’t work out. Happens to the best of us. Honestly. And it’s okay. One sentence is more than no sentence. And no sentences are okay too. There is no pressure to perform here, the community is happy to wait for you!

2. Stuck with a scene? Go take a walk. Do sports. Sing karaoke to your favorite songs. Dance. Whatever takes your mind of the matter. Inspiration strikes at odd times and maybe you will find yourself back writing in no time. Still stuck? Do you know where you want to end up with the story? Write a flow chart of possible events and then SKIP the beginning/middle/whatever part you are struggling with. You can puzzle it back together later and when you have the ending the scene you hate can be turned into a nice transition to where you actually want to go.

3. Music! Believe me, the music you listen to will influence your mood and the story you write. Personally, I’ll end up with a totally different writing style depending on the kind of music I listen to. That’s why my The Rose fics end up more heavy and dark than other fics. She’s in the Rain and See-Saw have a totally different vibe than ARRIBA or, I don’t know, God of Light Music. It will reflect in the story.

4. Details! Add details. All of them. Tiny things that your character does or thinks about. What they see and hear. Tell us! Don’t be afraid to overindulge us. Paint the scene. Is there a couch? Is it red? Are the blankets comfy or scratchy? There is a totally different feeling to the story depending on what you add. 

Example: 

Jongho hated the long drive, stuck between Yunho and Mingi. 

OR: 

Jongho was stuck in the backseat of the car, much to his annoyance. Yunho and Mingi, tall as they were, both had their freakishly long legs in his footwell which left less space for him. He didn’t blame them but it didn’t help his mood in the slightest. And while he was slowly getting used to regularly indulging in human touch, he didn’t enjoy how their warm upper bodies intruded on him, especially since they all were sweaty from dance practice. And, holy hell, he loved them but they were loud. The maknae just wanted some peace and quiet, listen to some music and get ready to sleep once home. But he had another twenty minutes left where he had to deal with their fake arguing crashing over his head and trying not to elbow them into the side. 

5. Unnecessary details! Also add them! You don’t always have to stay strictly to the red line or go from A to Z. Explore T and E as well (sorry, that joke had to be included). They can talk about other stuff than what the story is about. Add jokes, add other dialogue, add things that might not make the story linear.

If you take my Wooyoung sickfic e.g., the first part is just bickering between MATZ and has nothing to do with the story. But it’s still nice to have and I enjoyed writing it. 

6. Consider the theme of the story. A story of a hungover character can’t be written in the same light-hearted style as a mental health issue story. Take the characters into the setting. In my Hajoon centric series I mostly write very detailed and explain a lot but also there is so much emotion. That wouldn't work for a chase scene or a stupid injury story. These can be and should be fast paced! So think of the emotions you want the reader to feel!

7. Characters! Your story will be different depending on the character you write about. Who are they? 

Are they serious? Write more seriously!  Are they funny and happy-go-lucky? Then the story should be more lighthearted. 

This also goes for the next point, but different characters note different things. 

Are they tall? They will see more than short characters and you can reflect that in writing. But also do they have habits you can include? Disabilities? Fears? 

Minho won’t be the one consoling Felix on top of a tower because he will be scared of the heights.  Wonwoo might not be the person to see everything because of his bad vision and Seungcheol might not be able to sprint 200 meters to help somebody with his knee injury.  Yunho might not be able to see the expression on San’s face when San looks down, but Hongjoong might, since he still looks up to San height-wise.  Hajoon likely won’t be the one to talk to strangers to ask for something, so have Dojoon do the talking.

8. Whose perspective are you writing from? Look at the point above but also consider what they actually can know. 

Woosung won’t be able to tell that Jaehyeong’s pain is getting worse if he isn’t showing obvious signs. 

Here goes the details advice again: Use them to your advantage. 

Yunho can’t know that Seonghwa is feeling dizzy … unless he starts to sway on his feet, holds onto something or says anything about it. So write about that. 

Or if we look at a character getting sick:

If Seungmin is throwing up he can tell the reader that the taste in his mouth is bad and that his throat burns. Hyunjin might see the color or the tears on his face or hear the sounds while Seungmin is oblivious. 

9. Everything seems repetitive and the same? Your words don’t flow?

Honestly, a thesaurus is your best friend. Have one on hand when writing, just google it. Or even better, if possible for you, use a voice activated one: Alexa, give me a synonym for “x”! I get help without even having to turn away from the document. 

If you’re not sure if the synonym still fits into the sentence, put the whole sentence into google translate and translate it to your native language or from English to something else and back to english. If a whole new word comes out or the sentence doesn’t make sense it probably doesn’t work. Or, honestly, ask: There are so many people on here who will help you without a second thought. We all root for you!

Speaking of non-natives (hello 👋🏽): A dictionary on standby also helps. It gives different words and sometimes you just won’t remember or don’t know a word in your goal language. Happens. Again, Alexa works most of the time and gives you different options!

10. Lastly and most important: Hate what you wrote? Stop! You’re doing great. Maybe it won’t fit the story this time but maybe a different story of a different part? Don’t delete it. Move it to the bottom of the document or maybe a whole new document. But don’t delete your precious words.

Ignore the tiny voice in your head that tells you that everything you do sucks and it doesn’t matter what you write. People won’t die if a story is less than 100%. Don’t compare yourself to others! Even if we were given exactly the same detailed prompt we will end up with two totally different stories. And my normal is not your normal. Somebody's writing style may be different than yours but that doesn’t mean yours is bad. Take it one day at a time and remember to love yourself and do what makes you happy!