#like at least two please but preferably more

[joanvisitsrome]

If you don’t mind can you please do loser Ellie fingering the reader and needing to be lead on how to do it? (Thank you!)

y'all i had so much fun writing this y'all don't even know.

summary: loser!ellie wants to finger you but doesn't know how, so you lead her and teach her how.

contains: fingering

You and Ellie are making out on the couch when she begins to kiss your neck. You tilt your neck to give her better access to it.

“I want to make you feel good,” Ellie admits between kisses, “is that okay?” You nod and lay down.

“What are you thinking of doing?” you ask as Ellie kisses down your body, unbuttoning your shirt as well.

“I think I want to finger you,” Ellie says shyly, now unbuttoning your pants. You knew Ellie had never done anything with a girl. Although she was a good kisser, you knew she didn’t pleasure herself often, meaning that she may not know how to finger you.

“Do you want me to guide you during it?” you ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear. She nods, throwing your pants across the room and kissing your thighs. You open your legs, causing Ellie to kiss your inner thighs. She runs your hand up and down your clothed intimate area, causing you to squirm.

“Is that making you feel good?” Ellie asks, continuing the motion. You nod in response. Ellie takes off your underwear and throws them somewhere. You didn’t know where. You were just focused on the current situation at hand. You felt Ellie tease one of her fingers up and down your wet folds, getting some of her wetness on your finger.

“So do I just put my finger in the hole?” she asks.

“Not exactly. For me at least, I prefer two fingers.”

“Oh. Are there specific fingers I should use?”

“I’d say middle and ring.” She nods, and circles your entrance with those two fingers. She then slowly inserts them inside you, now pushing them in and out.

“Is this good?” she asks, looking up at you.

“You’re almost there, honey. Now I want you to do this with your fingers.” you hold up your hand, doing a ‘come hither’ motion with your fingers. Ellie inserts her fingers again, following your instructions. Almost immediately, she hits your g-spot, making your walls clench around her.

“Did I do something wrong? Did that hurt?” Ellie asks worriedly, stopping and pulling her fingers out.

“No, no, no. That was perfect, Ellie. Just like that.” Ellie sighs out of relief and inserts her fingers inside of you again, curling and hitting your g-spot each time. However, she’s being quite slow, driving you insane.

“Can you speed up?” you ask Ellie, to which she does instantly. She begins to speed up gradually. As you become more vocal, she speeds up more. You let her know you’re close, which causes her to attach her mouth to your clit and circle her tongue around it. You yell out her name over and over again, holding onto her head, releasing all over her fingers. As you come down from her orgasm, she removes her fingers from inside you and licks your juices off, moaning at the taste.

“Can we do that agan?” Ellie asks.

“As long as I can make you feel good this time.”

[wlwprker]

please don’t leave s.r. x gn! reader [1]

a/n: im a sucker for hurt/comfort i fear; wrote this with s3-4 & migraine reid in mind but you can choose whichever one you prefer! (this got super long so i’m going to make this into parts!)

warnings: minimal proofreading, some swearing, brief descriptions of basic criminal minds violence (cases and whatnot), mentions of blood

wc: 1,374

you and the team were tirelessly hunting down an unsub before he hurt any more women. the unsub was going after single women in their mid-30s or 40s who were in higher-stakes jobs such as congresswoman, lawyer, doctor, etc.

the unsub felt these women should stay at home and be housewives instead of being out in authority like jobs. the unsub’s mother was the same way, and he never had a proper childhood. he longed for a better relationship with his mother, so he stripped children’s mothers away from them.

time was running out, and everybody was running on little to no sleep, working on every detail to not miss a single thing. after many hours of looking into every victim, every connection, and every location, you finally found him. everyone raced against the clock, finally got his location, and were able to rescue three girls. you felt a tiny sense of relief at this fact; it helps to know you could still save people.

you knew this unsub’s type, and while you knew that you didn’t meet the criteria, there was no telling what he’d do to get his way.

“stay with me, okay?” spencer ordered in a soft tone. he was just being a good team member, and while you both knew that you could hold your own,.

this killer. he was erratic and aggressive.

you knew that spencer would give you a lecture if he knew that you ignored his orders, but that was the least of your worries.

you rounded a corner with your gun held out in front of you, and you took in every corner on high alert. you peeked inside a room, checking your surroundings before entering. the lights were off, and of course the light switch was not working.

you turned your flashlight on, and you had your back turned for not even half a second.

as soon as you turned around, the unsub attempted to throw you across the room, but you caught his wrist in a forceful grip.

“you don’t need to do this. this ends now," you said in a firm voice, but the unsub did not listen. you tried to get him to back down, but he wasn’t listening. you kept your gun raised, but you could not see where he went.

“you’re not my type, but I’ll take my chances, the unsub said, and you started to turn around, but before you could react, he had raised a crowbar and hit you in the head, and you had collapsed to the floor. you were dizzy, and your vision was blurry as you attempted to stand up.

the sound of a thud had alerted the entire team, and everyone was on extra-high alert, thoroughly checking every corner of the house and looking for the source.

“spencer, where did they go?” emily whispered, noticing they were down an agent. spencer’s heart dropped to the floor; he must have turned around when you slipped away from him.

“son of a bitch! i told them to stay with me,” spencer mumbled to himself.

spencer took a deep breath to calm himself down as the two of them searched the house. spencer froze in place when he walked into a pitch-black room and saw you lying on the floor. he was internally panicking.

“can you hear me?” spencer asked, and you were slipping in and out; everything around you was blurring, and everyone talking to you sounded like they were millions of miles away.

after a while, you could no longer hear or see anything; you were knocked out. spencer took a shaky breath as he placed two fingers on the side of your neck and sighed in relief when he found a pulse.

“we need a medic!” emily yelled into her walkie-talkie. spencer was freaking out, wondering what he could have done to prevent this.

“hey, it’s not your fault; you know that, right?” jj said as she watched spencer internally cursing himself.

“i turned around for barely a second, and they just...” spencer trailed off, and jj led him out of the house as they had successfully located the unsub and arrested him.

after a painful silence, the medics arrived and took you out on a gurney. the side of your head was bleeding, and you were not waking up.

“go, I’ll tell hotch; he’ll understand, emily said as she watched spencer look at you with a pained look on his face. he silently nodded and stayed with the medics as they took you to the hospital.

the ride to the hospital was a deadly silence; he longed for your voice, even one of your silly jokes, anything.

once you got to the hospital, despite his best efforts, spencer was sent to the waiting room. as he waited for the verdict, he was bouncing his knees constantly, his mind racing with millions of possibilities.

he hated waiting. not knowing if you were okay drove him crazy; he wanted to scream.

the doctor came out, and spencer stood up fast. he listened intently, and a sigh of relief washed over him as the doctor told him that you were going to be okay.

“am I able to see them?” spencer asked anxiously, and the doctor nodded. “yes, they need lots of rest, but you can go visit.” the doctor smiled as they walked to your room.

his heart ached when he saw you lying on a bed with a bandage on the side of your head and hooked up to a machine, peacefully sleeping.

he was so glad you’re okay.

spencer took a seat and watched you cautiously; he didn’t want to disturb you.

you slowly opened your eyes, saw spencer, and smiled lightly.

“hey spence, did you guys catch him?” you asked faintly. spencer’s heart twisted in agony at the sound of your voice.

“we did, but you need your rest. i just wanted to see how you were doing.”

you smiled and tried to sit up, but spencer stopped you with a warning look in his eyes.

“don’t move; you need to rest.”

“i’m fine; it was just a scratch.” you attempted to joke, but it came out weakly.

“you got hit in the head with a crowbar, and you passed out—more than scratch there,” spencer said, sighing.

“the doctor said i could go home within the next few days, maybe sooner,” you said, and spencer didn’t respond; he just held your hand with a sad look on his face.

“hey, i’m okay.”

he cut you off with a deep sigh.

“why did you ignore my orders? i told you to stay with me. damn it, why didn’t you stay? i don’t know what I would have done if” spencer trailed off.

“i’m fine, spencer.”

“no, you’re not; you got hurt!” spencer was frustrated. how could you not see this was killing him?

“but I’m here; i’m going to be...”

“stop talking.”

you looked at him strangely, confused as to why he was so on edge.

“spencer, i’m fine; i don’t know what has you so worked up, but...”

“please stop talking,” he said, rubbing his forehead as he finally looked you in the eyes.

“do you know that 258 people in 100,000 enter a coma each year due to acute brain injury?” spencer stated, frustration evident in his voice. you stared at him, confused.

“what does that have to do with anything?"

“you are lucky that you don’t have a brain injury; you could have been at risk of going into a fucking coma for who knows how long! what i’m saying is, i wish you didn’t go off by yourself because i would never forgive myself if i lost you. do you understand me?” spencer said it in a stern voice, which caught you off guard.

“spencer, i can handle myself just fine, and i’m okay, aren’t I?”

spencer shook his head furiously.

“you’re not listening to me.”

the silence filled the room; it was the loudest silence you’ve ever witnessed.

you tried to speak, but spencer just sighed. “you need rest; i’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

you just nodded, the conversation still on your mind. why was he so upset? you didn’t have the energy to dwell on it.

“spencer,” you called out.

he turned around with a curious look in his eyes.

“can you stay a little longer?” you asked quietly.

[starlemonbunki]

Red Man In The Shadows

Yandere Dazai X Reader

"Did you really think you would get away that easily, Belladonna?"

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

Tags: Yandere Dazai, failed escape attempt, hinted kidnapping, Atsushi gets hurt in the crossfire, Manipulation, reader does subconsciously love Dazai, blood, stabbing, reader gets stabbed, use of "Y/N"

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

[Atsushi: pls meet me at the warehouse tonight.]

The text was simple and direct. Two things Atsushi never was.

It came out of nowhere. You two weren't the type to text, other than the occasional "I'm here" and "be there in 5."

Ever since he had found you at Dazai's apartment, cold, fatigued and starving, he had preferred to stay close to you, thus, no need to text.

You had just started working at the agency a year ago. It had been over 13 months since then, and 5 months since you had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. And now, just 3 weeks since your rescue, you had started getting used to the feeling of being guarded. Being safe.

Dazai had left you in that apartment a couple months after taking you there. Had it been a punishment for misbehaving, or a way to evade blame and the law, or just one of his old mind games he loved to play on you, you had no idea. You had gone days, maybe more than a week without food, water, or electricity before Atsushi found you. Starving, cold, and confused, the agency took you back in like a helpless little dog who'd lost its owner. As for Dazai, they'll burn that bridge when they come to it. They know by now that that man was like a cockroach, sometimes he's here, sometimes he's not, but you'll never truly get rid of him.

The warehouse was cold and smelled like the nearby river. No lights, no people, just the moon and the sounds of water pushing against the structures above it. All this felt a little too familiar, and you were just about to leave, until you heard a voice.

"Leaving so soon?" It said. It was a voice you knew all too well, and hoped you would never hear again.

You didn't even need to look behind you to feel the dread of knowing who it was.

The sound of slow footsteps made its way to you like a snake following its prey. The man walked to your side, slender hand on your shoulder, before he finally decided to make his presence known. To make you look at him.

He played with your hair as you stared down at your feet. No, you thought. Not again.

"Hmm? What's wrong, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost!" His voice was still as cheery as it always was, but there was something else there. A hint of anger.

"I don't know why you're acting like this, I'm the one who should be upset. After all, you did betray me, didn't you?"

It was like it was a question. Like when your mother asks you if you did something wrong, even though she knows you did. She didn't need to ask, she just needed you to know she knew what you did.

"Please," you said softly, your voice almost breaking, tearing at the seams. "Leave me alone."

"Huh?" He said. "That's not very nice. I'm just happy to see you is all!"

"No you're not." You spat back, still with a hint of fear and dread in your voice. "You're angry. I know when you're angry. You can't trick me anymore, I know all your moves."

Dazai looked at you with a curious expression, or at least that's how it felt. You were still looking down at your shoes, wondering if they would weigh you down if you ran for it right now. The cold air of the warehouse spit on your skin like little needles. It hurt, but you had other priorities right now.

Dazai stood upright. "Well, guess there's no point in the theatrics now." He said with a sigh. He grabbed onto your arm and dragged you in the other direction. At this point you knew better than to try to fight. Letting him guide you, you kept your eyes to the ground before you finally got a whiff of it. The smell of blood.

Finally you looked up. The scent was strong and came from right behind you. Dazai stopped walking suddenly, and your nose became familiar with the scent. The scent of Atsushi.

You turned around to find your friend soaked in red, tears in his shirt and pants, and blood staining his hair and the ground below him. The blood was dry, meaning he had been there for a while.

"I-I don't understand." You stammered softly. "His ability...he should have regenerated by now..." it took you less than 5 seconds to find the culprit, although it should have already been obvious. You finally looked up at Dazai, at the psychotic man who hurt your friend.

"You canceled out his ability..." your eyes were as big as saucers, and your teeth began to chatter.

"You thought you could run away from me." He said, voice low and deep. His cheerful expression was gone, he wasn't even looking at you. His whole front side was covered in a shadow, as he was facing away from the only source of light you had at that moment: the moon. "But you can't. And because of you, a good man may die tonight."

"No..." you whispered, looking back at the bloody, battered man laying in front of you. "I didn't do this, it wasn't my fault, you were the one who-!"

"Had you just stayed put and waited for me," Dazai's voice was laced with venom as he took a step towards you. "Had you just rejected his outstretched hand this wouldn't have happened. Now you must take responsibility for his death. This is all on you, Y/N-chan. You did this."

You couldn't even look the man in his dreadful, venomous eyes anymore. His gaze hurt more than it should have.

"But you can fix it." He said. You looked back up at him with hope in your eyes and he handed you a knife. "End his misery, Y/N-chan. Finish what you started."

You took the knife in your hands and walked slowly towards the body. His chest rose and fell slightly, he was still breathing, but surely he was in pain. He was at death's door, all you had to do was ring the bell. Then this will all be over.

"I-I can't!" You said, turning to face the man behind you. "I can't do it, Dazai-san! He was good to me! He was my frie-"

"If he was your friend, you would want his pain to be over." Dazai took a big step before you and spoke with a voice as sharp as a blade.

"You have to pay the price for your actions, Y/N-chan." He said.

You looked down at the knife in your hands, and slowly pointed it at Dazai. A small sense of power crept into your soul. All he did was scoff.

"Someone's feeling brave," He said as he stepped closer and closer, until the knife poked at his chest.

"If you want to, you can do it." He whispered, a sense of seduction in his tone.

"After all, I did so many things to you back at that apartment. Your anger may be justified. But it doesn't erase everything you did to that poor boy."

"I didn't do anything." You said. "I was kind to him. He helped me. I didn't have anything to do with what happened to him."

"Play the blame game all you want," He said, "but there's still a body on the floor."

"There's about to be one more," you said. The blade poked deeper into his chest until a trickle of blood seeped out, but all Dazai did was smile.

"Go on, Belladonna." He said with a chuckle. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "kill me."

One breath. And then another. And then before you knew it the knife in your hands slowly disappeared from view.

You couldn't do it. You couldn't kill Dazai. You didn't know why, after everything he did, he definitely deserved it, but a part of you held the knife back. A part of you wanted to stay with him.

"Good girl," he whispered, taking the knife from your hands as you let go of it without a fight. Suddenly, a cold, sharp pain entered your abdomen and blood spilled from your own lips. Despite that, he held your chin and kissed you, tasting the liquid pain inside.

Once he let go, his lips were tinted red.

"Let's go, Belladonna." He said, as he slowly pulled the knife from your stomach. Your knees buckled, and now you were leaning on him completely. The man took you in his arms and carried you, walking out of the warehouse with you bleeding onto his vest and leaning on his chest.

"Rest, darling." He said as you slowly fell into a deep slumber. He was saying something else, but you couldn't hear.

Meanwhile, Atsushi watched you go, barely even alive.

END

[slaymitchabernathy]

Cold & Calculated

Soarynn POV

Soarynn's heels echo through the hall as she approaches the two glass doors that lead to her husband's office. Well, the floor that holds his office along with several other associates offices.

She's only been in this building one other time, back when they were dating and he brought her around to meet some of his colleagues. She had been so nervous to meet those men, those very important men who worked with Coriolanus.

But now she might have to deal with some of them alone, and that makes her nervous. Although she's almost always a little nervous around her husband.

At nineteen years old, Soarynn is a married woman to one of the most influential men in all of Panem.

Coriolanus Snow.

She remembers meeting him for the first time, how handsome he had looked sitting at that table, and how tall he was when he stood up to greet her and her father.

"He's a good man, honey," her father had whispered during the car ride to the restaurant, "he's important and can provide for you and your future children. I wouldn't agree to this if I didn't think he was a good fit."

Coriolanus was indeed a good man, stern but good, never laying a hand on her or raising his voice. He was a man of authority, always commanding the room wherever he went, commanding respect.

He always made sure she had what she needed, new clothes and shoes, a luxurious life, a fully staffed home. He was the dominant party no question, but Soarynn didn't long for a life as an impending and demanding wife.

She was quieter than most which seemed to mix well with Coriolanus and his more outgoing personality. She warmed up to him after a few dates, opened up a bit more but never fully, not the way she did when she was in the company of her close friends.

And Coriolanus seemed to prefer it that way, prefer a quiet wife who always listened and remained ever attentive to her husband's every need.

She didn't feel like he was too demanding. He most definitely was a man who craved physical intimacy. She found that out rather quickly on their wedding night. Before getting married they had only shared a handful of heated kisses and she had seen him shirtless a few times but that was it.

Sex was something that Soarynn had heard of but never experienced. A good Capitol girl waited until marriage and because Soarynn wasn't that outgoing during her years at the Academy, she was perfect in his eyes. Coriolanus had seemed more than pleased when finding out that piece of information and managed to give Soarynn enough sexual experience to last a lifetime.

At least he let her know when he wanted to have sex beforehand. Soarynn always appreciated a little heads up, especially since she was more flustered and fidgety when it came down to the idea of sex.

Soarynn wipes her palms on the fabric of her dress before pulling open one of the heavy glass doors, pushing her nerves down. Technically she shouldn't have to speak to anyone since she's supposed to go straight to his office, but as luck would have it she's already being approached by a Peacekeeper and what looks like a secretary.

"Mrs. Snow," they both greet her which still manages to catch Soarynn off guard. Being born into a prominent family is something she's always been familiar with, a lifestyle she's always known. But to marry a Snow garners a certain celebrity status.

Soarynn offers them both a small smile, "Hello, I'm looking for my husband's office." The Peacekeeper nods and gestures to one of the hallways, "Right this way Mrs. Snow." But the secretary who seems quite on edge while being in the presence of an important wife interjects before Soarynn can take a step, "Or would you like something to eat or drink? I also have warm towels for your hands if you'd like one."

Soarynn is entirely overwhelmed by all the offers she's been presented with and is beginning to wish that Coriolanus had just picked her up at home like he usually does.

"No thank you," she says to the secretary, "I think my husband would prefer for me to find him first." One good thing about marrying a man as respected as Coriolanus is that she can often throw him under the bus since no one would ever question his authority.

That seems to do the trick because a moment later Soarynn is following the Peacekeeper down the hallway, or the maze of hallways it seems. Thank goodness he offered to escort her, this place seems to be a maze of sorts and Soarynn probably would've lost her way.

Which wouldn't blow over well with Coriolanus. He appreciates promptness.

They stop in front of two large wooden doors and the Peacekeeper gives her a curt nod, "Please don't hesitate to find me again should you need any more assistance, Mrs. Snow." Soarynn doubts she'll need any help now that she's about to see Coriolanus, but she appreciates the gesture and gives him a genuine smile, "Thank you very much."

Soarynn watches him disappear around a corner before she finally knocks on the imposing doors. At home, she always knocks and she's not going to stop now. She takes a deep breath before knocking twice and waits for her husband's voice to answer her.

"Yes?"

Soarynn doesn't know what she feels so...nervous, probably because she's in an abnormal setting but she answers him nonetheless, "Coriolanus? It's me."

She waits for a beat before she hears his footsteps approaching the doors and suddenly she's face to face with her husband who's looking down at her with a smug look on his face, "I like that dress," he says.

Soarynn glances down at the dress she's picked out for tonight. It's red, rose red to be more specific and it offers a decent look at her cleavage but not too much to where it would be considered distasteful. There's also a rather large slit on the left side of the dress and the dress itself is held up by thick silk straps.

He likes it because he bought it for her a month ago.

Soarynn nods as she peers up at him, "You bought it for me." That seems to be the right answer because he hums before motioning her into his office, a room she barely remembers. His hand rests on her lower back as he guides her into the specious room. His desk is directly across from the doors and to the right is a sitting area consisting of two armchairs and a sofa.

The right wall is made up entirely of a bookshelf where there are a few framed photographs lining the shelves along with all of the books. The left wall has two large windows that give her a lovely view of the Capitol skyline where she can see the sun is just beginning to set.

Soarynn swallows as she feels the constant pressure of his hand on her lower back but does her best to maintain her nerves. She's always felt a little nervous around Coriolanus, always. He's just so...reserved. He never lets his true emotions show, she's unable to read him after over a year of knowing him.

He's cold and calculated.

"I'm just about finished with my work," he tells her, pulling his hand away as he rounds his large mahogany desk. Soarynn folds her hands behind her back while standing across from Coriolanus, feeling rather put on the spot. Is this how his colleagues feel when they have meetings or discussions with him?

Soarynn nods, "Alright."

A small part of her wonders where to go, if she should stay standing or sit down but her questions are answered when the doors fly open revealing Festus Creed, a good friend of Coriolanus.

"I heard someone's wife came to visit," Festus drawls as he steps further into the room, not bothering to close the doors behind him. Soarynn offers him a polite smile as she hears Coriolanus scoff behind her, "Funny how you'll do anything to avoid working Festus."

Festus wisely ignores Coriolanus and his comments and strides towards Soarynn, giving her the complimentary kiss on the cheek before grinning at his good friend, "Anything is better than working, and besides, I can't possibly work with the promise of dinner right around the corner."

The dinner that Soarynn and Coriolanus will be attending tonight is being thrown by the company to show thanks to all of their loyal employees, Festus included. According to Coriolanus, it's being held at one of the most pristine restaurants in the Capitol with all expenses paid for.

Normally, he would pick Soarynn up from the penthouse and they would make their way to the restaurant from there, but the charity event she attended earlier this afternoon ran a bit later than they both expected so Coriolanus phoned her to let her know that they would take a different approach. So here she was, dressed to the nines and anxious to get this show on the road.

Soarynn, the ever diligent wife still remembers her manners though, despite her nerves and gives Festus a polite smile, “It’s lovely to see you again Festus.” He nods and gives her arm a friendly squeeze, “Likewise Soarynn. I should’ve had Persephone meet me here as well, at least you wouldn’t be bored to tears while waiting for your husband to finish up with his work.”

Persephone Creed is also Soarynn’s age and a good friend of hers. Both of them were raised to be married off to prominent Capitol men and it seems that they’ve succeeded in that.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Soarynn tells him, not wanting to upset Coriolanus or have him thinking his wife is impatient. And she truly doesn’t mind.

Festus waves her off, “Nonsense. Why don’t I give you a tour? I’m sure you could use another one since you haven’t been here in quite some time.”

Soarynn glances back at Coriolanus to see how he’d like to approach this proposal from Festus but she finds her husband looking down at paperwork, in a world of his own it seems. “What do you say Coryo?” Festus asks, walking up to the desk and drumming his fingers on the hard wooden surface.

Coriolanus finally glances up at the two of them and nods after a moment of deliberation, “Be back in half an hour,” he says, more to Festus than to Soarynn but she nods all the same.

Festus shoots her a toothy grin, “Prepare for the most informative tour you’ve ever experienced.”

꧁ ꧂

Festus Creed can talk a lot.

Soarynn found this out rather quickly the first time she met him when they had all gone out on a double date. Persephone is quite outgoing herself so the two make a good pair but Soarynn barely says a word as Festus leads her through the vast hallways and informs her of all the office gossip.

“That’s our bosses office, that’s the cafeteria down there, oh, and this is the break room. Do not touch Felix’s lunch or he will seek revenge,” Festus says, shuddering as if remembering that revenge.

Soarynn nods, “Noted.”

It’s interesting to see where her husband spends so much time, so many hours are spent in these halls. He rarely ever talks about work at home, wanting to keep the two things separate. Soarynn feels that there wouldn’t be much to relate to since she’s never worked a day in her life.

“And down here is my office, don’t mind the mess, a creative mind flourishes in clutter you know.” Soarynn peers into his office where she sees a bit more than “clutter.” Festus has his office in quite the messy state, she’s surprised he can still see the hardwood floor. “Ah, there’s Felix in the meeting room.”

Soarynn and Festus peer into the meeting room where she makes eye contact with Felix Ravenstill, another close from to Coriolanus. He offers her a small wave to which she returns before looking up at Festus, “Would you mind taking me back? I don’t want to keep Coriolanus waiting.”

Festus is more than kind to show her around the office, but Soarynn is desperate for a few moments of quiet in her husbands office. Today has been filled with mindless chatter and the next twenty minutes will be her only reprieve before she’s forced to socialize again.

Festus nods, “Of course! I know how nitpicky he can get about punctuality. You should’ve seen him when I almost missed the train for our hunting trip.”

Soarynn wasn’t there for the trip but she was there to hear all about it when Coriolanus returned four days later. He and his friends had gone to District Two for a hunting trip in which they could relax and enjoy one of the District’s resorts as well. He had gone about two months into their marriage and Soarynn found herself missing him more than she thought she would.

She certainly got an earful about what occurred on the trip once he got back home, mostly because he felt that no one took the hunting as seriously as he did. “I find my friends often acting as if they’re still students at the Academy instead of the future of Panem,” he had muttered while taking a sip of bourbon.

Twenty-five was still rather young for a man of his status but Coriolanus was extremely mature for his age and acted well beyond his years in Soarynn’s opinion.

Soarynn bobs her head up and down as they walk back to the office she so longs to relax in and gives Festus a polite farewell before stepping back inside and closing the doors behind her.

“How was the tour?”

Soarynn takes a deep breath before pushing all the air back out of her lungs and turning to face her husband who’s still seated behind his desk. He’s not even looking at her but she still pushes a smile to her face as she walks over to the sitting area, “It was wonderful. Festus makes a very good tour guide.”

Coriolanus chuckles and shakes his head, “He makes something, that’s for sure.”

Soarynn hums but can’t help but take a closer look at the framed photos that sit on the bookshelves. She sees one of the original Snow family, the attractive trio all smiling at the camera. Well, Mrs. Snow is smiling. Crassus and Coriolanus wear the same guarded expression they almost always wear.

While Soarynn had never met Coriolanus until that fateful night at the restaurant, she had certainly seen Crassus Snow before. As a friend of her father’s as well as a business partner, she was familiar with the infamous Crassus Xanthos Snow. He never smiled, rarely laughed, and was always serious. He’d come to dinner at their house every once in a while to discuss business but Soarynn always found herself fleeing the dining room after about an hour.

It’s not that he scared her or was mean to her. But Crassus Snow possesses a certain type of aura that makes people just a bit uncomfortable. And from what she’s seen, he prefers it that way. He’s worked hard to ensure that his family has remained on top.

Coriolanus had muttered that phrase one too many times for her to keep count. “Snow lands on top.”

The only time Soarynn has ever seen Crassus look even remotely happy has been in the presence of his wife. Mrs. Snow is a beautiful lady who is dripping in Capitol wealth, influence and taste. She might just be the fanciest lady Soarynn has ever met.

And she’s kind.

Soarynn didn’t expect to be welcomed wholeheartedly into the Snow family by Crassus, not by a long shot. But she was pleasantly surprised by how kind Mrs. Snow was to her. Insisting that Soarynn call her ‘mother’ once she and Coriolanus got married. It’s easy to see how much she and her husband love each other despite Crassus and his claims of marrying for power and stability.

He loves his wife, that much is clear. Which often leads Soarynn to wonder if maybe Coriolanus could feel the same way about her one day. From what Mrs. Snow has told her, it wasn’t always this way with her and Crassus.

“He absolutely despised me,” she had said to Soarynn one day while the two of them were having tea, “well, he tolerated me to put it in better words. I knew my duty as a wife would simply be to provide him children and keep him happy. But I’ve always been an optimist darling, and I just knew that he had love in his heart for me.”

When Soarynn had inquired about how he came to love his wife the day he does now, Mrs. Snow grew a dreamy smile on her face, “He simply woke up one day loving me and hasn’t stopped since.”

Well, it sounds easy when you put it like that. Soarynn doubts Coriolanus will just rise from his slumber one day absolutely in love with her. Both of them knew going into this marriage that it was strategic, bringing two great houses together. Simple as that. Neither of them have ever spoken of their love for one another and she can’t see them starting any time soon.

Soarynn walks further down the bookshelf and is surprised to find a picture of her and Coriolanus sitting in a golden frame. It’s a photo of them at their wedding. Despite their marriage being more business than pleasure, their wedding was beautiful. Soarynn spent a good while looking for the perfect dress and shoes and had a wonderful time shopping with her friends for their bridesmaid dresses.

The wedding was the wedding of the season according to several news outlets that covered the ceremony and all the prominent Capitol families were in attendance.

The photo itself is beautiful with both of them standing under an archway of white roses. Mrs. Snow had worked tirelessly to ensure that the archway would be fully grown in time for their wedding and her hard work paid off immensely.

Soarynn is smiling at the camera, her head tilted towards Coriolanus while she holds her bouquet of white roses. Coriolanus has a small smile on his lips, looking quite pleased to be a married man. His arm is wrapped around her with his hand holding her waist.

They look like they could be in love.

Soarynn looks over at him and wonders if it’s in the cards for them to truly love one another. But he’s so busy with work and she’s always been so shy around him. And love doesn’t truly matter, not when she has to do her duty and provide him with children and keep him happy. Her personal wants and needs don’t matter.

Maybe in another life.

꧁ ꧂

“You looked surprised to see that I had a photo of us in my office.”

Soarynn barely registers the words as she looks up at her husband but she manages a somewhat intelligent answer, “Well most men don’t decorate their offices.” It’s true, her father certainly keeps his study as barren as possible. There are tons of photos of Soarynn throughout their townhouse, but his study is frugal. She’s been to his office at work enough times to conclude the same thing, barren and frugal.

Perhaps Coriolanus will add a photo of their children someday should they have any. It’s only been six months but Sejanus Plinth’s question has led Soarynn to think about children more than usual.

Soarynn and Coriolanus were subjects to several tests to ensure that they were both healthy and perfectly fertile. Having children meant securing your future and the Snows planned on having a grand future.

Coriolanus holds the door open for her as they reach the restaurant, “It’s nice to have something pretty to look at.” Soarynn’s heart skips a beat because that means he thinks she’s pretty. And she knows she’s not ugly and Coriolanus has complimented her physical appearance on numerous occasions but this one catches her completely off guard.

Coriolanus Snow is an extremely attractive man. His chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes make for an attractive face. He runs a tight ship when it comes to his body, something Soarynn is all too familiar with since their wedding night.

She had been so nervous to lose her virginity. She always knew it would happen but she also knew that she wasn’t going to be his first. But he was hers and that was all that mattered in the eyes of society. But Coriolanus had been surprisingly gentle and patient. He talked her through it and went so slowly, making sure she was comfortable. Sex was a mind blowing experience for Soarynn and it helped that Coriolanus was extremely good at it.

She often finds herself longing for him during the way, for his lips and big hands…amongst other things. But he’s always been the one to initiate anything between the two of them and she wouldn’t want to bother him.

She still remembers how pleased he was when they finally finished and found the white bedsheets had a bit of blood on them, confirming that she hadn’t been lying about remaining pure for her husband. Soarynn knew some of her friends had thrown all caution to the wind when it came to waiting for marriage but she had a deep seeded fear that her future husband would tell everyone that she hadn’t waited for him.

Coriolanus had placed a kiss on her forehead and smirked, “Looks like you’re truly mine now my darling.” Those words had gone straight to her core in the moment and remained in her mind ever since. Because she longed to be his, truly and forever.

Soarynn doesn’t reply as she looks around the ornate restaurant that they’ll be having dinner in tonight. It’s lavish with gold fixtures and painted ceilings, with velvet rugs and hardwood floors.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Snow,” the hostess greets them, “your private dining room is right this way.” Coriolanus presses his hand on the small of Soarynn’s back once again as they follow the hostess towards the back of the restaurant where Soarynn can already hear Festus Creed’s laugh.

“Please let me know if I can be of any service to you both,” the hostess says before leaving them to their dinner party. Soarynn puts on a kind smile as they e there the room and they’re greeted by friendly shouts and grumbles. There’s as many men as there are women tonight, all the men have brought their wives which means Soarynn won’t be bored to tears all night.

It seems that only refreshments have been served so far, small platters of fruits and tangy cocktails have been laid out on several tables and many important people mingle around them.

Coriolanus leans down and Soarynn feels a chill rush down her spine as his lips brush the shell of her ear, “Stay by my side tonight.” It’s a request as normal as any and yet Soarynn feels it go straight to her core. But she covers it well and leans into him, “Of course I will.”

Coriolanus seems pleased with her response and wraps his arm around her waist before leading them to the group of his colleagues and their wives, all who welcome them with smiles and the expected praises one gets when still being newly married.

As dinner progresses and everyone is finally seated at the long wooden table, Soarynn can’t help but glance around at the other couples. The older couples. Even if they aren’t much older by age they’re certainly more seasoned in the concept of marriage than she is. Soarynn being an only child to a widowed man wasn’t given much to go off of when it came to her relationship with Coriolanus.

He took the lead for the most part which was expected of him regardless of her upbringing, but she appreciated it all the same.

She appreciated how he always let her know of his plans ahead of time, and how he always seemed to remember her favorite dishes at each restaurant. He even managed to bring her home fresh vases of roses from his mother’s garden from time to time which was a miracle within itself considering how protective Mrs. Snow can be over her roses.

But it was still different from what Soarynn saw before her eyes. These couples were so…openly in love. They were leaning into one another, laughing and smiling as if they weren’t the Capitol elite. One glance at her husband made Soarynn wonder if he was even having a good time right now. She certainly was. The food was delicious and the drinks were flowing.

But Coriolanus still wore that guarded expression regardless of the fact that he was in the company of close friends and colleagues. Even when he was with her.

She can feel her mood slightly sour at that realization but she doesn’t let it show. Not now, not at dinner in front of all these important people. She can wait, put up a facade.

She can be just like Coriolanus.

Cold & Calculated.

| Part 2. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[defectivehero]

"Don't touch me," the villain hisses, writhing in the hero's arms as they're unwillingly carried around.

"Would you prefer if I dropped you?" The hero hums, their eyes set on the skies ahead. "Left you to fall thirteen stories and collide with the pavement? That's certainly an option." They shrug.

"You wouldn't dare," the villain claims with manufactured confidence. Truthfully, their heart is racing in their chest as the two of them soar higher and higher in the sky. They have never quite trusted their enemy—and for good reason. Their morality runs rather grey for a hero, and the villain wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they took advantage of their momentary weakness to cause them even more pain.

The hero shrugs in response to the villain's accusation. Meanwhile, the villain clings on a little tighter, resolutely ignoring the laughter rumbling in their enemy’s chest.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

sorry this is sinfully short, y'all. zero motivation lmao

tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello @miashico

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[bonesxbows]

Ring of Fire (Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and Cooper are heading to collect a bounty, but it's a lot farther away than you anticipated. He's used to the sun but your pristine and non-irriated skin isn't. Heat stroke is imminent and could end up killing you if Cooper doesn't intervene.

(WARNINGS) - descriptions of heat stroke - descriptions of severe sunburns - descriptions of dehydration

The show reignited my fallout obsession but Cooper's character is so goddamn hard to write in a sorta romantic way since we mostly see him being an ass to everyone after the bombs. I still tried my best so hopefully it comes across okay. I think I also got the hang of his accent the more I wrote for this too

Anyway, I wrote this during a heat wave when I was miserable and needed some comfort lol so if you're reading this I hope it can bring you a little bit of comfort too. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

-

Whoever said California was a pleasant heat sure as hell hadn’t walked through the desert after a nuclear fallout. Everything burned; the sand, the sun, the air, your legs, your nose. It was unbearable and if it hadn’t been over the promise of a large stack of caps at the end of the road you would have given up a long time ago. 

“If I see one more dried-up lakebed I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You mumbled, rubbing the sand from your eyes again. 

“Quit your complainin’, we’re almost there. An’ I told ya to stop doin’ that.” Cooper swatted at your arms, making you put them back down at your sides again. You scoffed but obeyed his directions. 

“I’m never gonna make it there if I can’t see where the fuck I’m going.” 

“Maybe, but you sure as shit ain’t gonna see nothin’ never again if your eye gets infected. Your body don’ have enough moisture to keep your eyes slick with the way you keep yappin’ your mouth off and wastin’ it.” He retorted back, his face snarled up into his usual scowl. You didn't say anything more for a good long while, not because of his fancy way of telling you to shut up but because talking was starting to become more and more physically taxing on you the farther along you went. There was nothing but more sand, more heat, and more nothingness for as far as you could see across the horizon. Every step added another weight to your head, making it feel like it was stopped up with cotton that weighed a million pounds and banged against the inside of your skull like a war drum. Your body felt like mush and your clothes felt twice as heavy. But you kept going, trudging behind your cowboy, using him as a guide through the pain. 

That is until you started to see three of him. And what was that whinnying sound you kept hearing coming from? Plus you swore there was a herd of something chasing the two of you what with all the stomping hooves you were hearing too, but every time you turned around there was nothing but sand dunes and the outline of destroyed L.A. on the horizon. 

“Wait. I…I think I need to take a break. In the shade preferably.” you stopped and told him after gunfire was added to the list of sounds you were hearing in the distance. One more step and you were sure you were going to end up with a mouth full of sand. 

“We don’ got time for pit stops sweetheart, keep movin’,” he replied back, still keeping his pace forward, not realizing you had stopped completely. Or just not caring. He wouldn’t leave you behind, not for long at least, but he still wasn’t listening. 

“Cooper fucking listen to me this time,” you shouted, hoping to catch his attention. You succeeded, as soon as his real name fell from your lips he made a dead stop in his tracks. “Please,” you added in a softer voice. You hadn’t meant to shout at him but your body was so overwhelmed and you were tired of being ignored. He tilted his face towards the sky and let out the most audible annoyed sigh you had ever heard from him before finally turning around to face you. 

“Alright, I’m sorry for pushin’ ya, just not so loud next time ‘kay? I don’ need the whole goddamn wasteland knowin’ my name.” he said as he walked back towards you. “Well, you’re still standin’ so that’s a good sign. What’s the matter?” you were used to his gruff exterior by now but you were just grateful he was finally taking you seriously. 

“I…I’m not sure? My head hurts so fucking much and I keep hearing things…I think. My skin feels like it's on fire and I-”

“Heat stroke. Goddamnit.” He cut you off, not even listening for you to list any more symptoms out loud. He sounded pissed, but you had learned by now that his angry voice and his overprotective voice were kinda one and the same. 

“...Heat what now?” you asked, but he never quelled your confusion. Instead he focused on scanning your surroundings. There wasn't much, there usually never was anyway, but he must've found something in the distance that would work for what he had planned. 

“Hm, that’ll do,” he said, more so to himself than to you. You weren’t really listening anyway, that whinnying sound was back and it was taking every ounce of energy you had left just to stay standing upright. He turned back to you and said…something, but you couldn't make out any of it. His lips were moving, sure, but all you could hear was muffled static as if you were underwater. Your face must have had a look of confusion plastered on it because it didn’t take long for him to figure out you were unresponsive, the way you just stared at him and blinked also didn’t help. 

He approached you and started to pull the sleeves of your jacket off, peeling the leather from your sticky sweaty skin off entirely. You stood there and let him, you may have been hearing things and had all the energy of a newborn sloth, but you could still recognize Cooper, and you trusted him more than anyone else. If he thought your jacket needed to come off then you trusted he had a good reason for doing so, even if the wind was starting to feel extremely cold on your exposed moist skin. 

He tried to talk to you again but you just continued to stare at him, watching his mouth move but none of the words making it to your ears. He shook his head and threw your jacket over his shoulder, grabbing one of your wrists and looping it over his back as he grabbed you under your arms and started to half drag you forward towards whatever makeshift shelter he had found. You tried to help, tried to get your legs to move with his, but it felt impossible. At some point, your head began to droop and your temple bashed into his shoulder, making you cry out in pain. He stopped to assess the damage, no doubt cursing you for being so clumsy even though you still couldn't hear him. He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead where it had made impact with him before placing his hat on top of your head and continuing onward. The new barrier between the unforgiving sun and your dried-up eyes was a small relief to your unbearable discomfort, one you cherished every second of before your vision went dark for good this time. 

---

When you opened your eyes again you were thankfully in the shade this time, your skin still felt like it was on fire but at least the sun wasn't continuously beating on it now. You were sitting on the ground propped up against the side of a half-destroyed barn and you dug your fingertips into the sand, grasping for the cooler sand that usually lay a layer deeper than the surface, an old trick Cooper had taught you. 

The memory of that lesson in your mind had you spring up, frantically trying to find your cowboy again. Your jacket was still missing, and his hat was still on your head, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. You wanted to get up, you even tried to, but your limbs felt like jello and you discovered your toes and fingertips were numb. You tried again anyway, kicking at the sand with your feet to find purchase and clawing at the rotting barn boards to pry yourself upwards. 

“Hey, now it took a lotta effort to get you here, don’ tell me you wanna leave already.” You heard his voice and stopped, watching him as he came through one of the broken doorways into the barn, his spurs clicking behind him with every step. 

You blinked, making sure it was really him this time and not something else you were imagining again. But there he was; scorpion belt buckle, cowboy boots, saddle bags and all. He dropped what he was carrying next to the doorway, where you saw your jacket lying on the ground, and then came to sit in front of you, grunting as he knelt down and made himself comfortable. 

“Feelin' better?” he asked. You went to answer but then immediately felt just how dry your throat was. You coughed and tried to lick your lips, but your tongue felt like sandpaper against the already rough skin. You had never experienced a dried-up tongue before and you never wanted to again, it felt like a worm had crawled into your mouth and nested behind your teeth. Cooper was already prepared through and placed a can of water into your hands, already punctured with his knife. 

“Here. Small sips though, ‘kay?” he told you. You nodded, disappointingly understanding him even though you wanted to guzzle the whole can down right then and there. But you did as he told you, taking a slow and small sip, relishing the feeling of the liquid making its way down your throat and easing the pain a little. You tried to lick your lips again, this time succeeding in wetting the crusted-up skin. 

“How bad is it?” you croaked out, vaguely remembering what he had said earlier. Heat stroke, whatever that was, felt like one of the worst things to ever happen to you.

“Well, you’re still alive, despite losin’ consciousness and being fried up like an iguana on a stick from that there sun. I don’ think I’ve ever seen you with such a tan.” he smirked, poking fun at the lack of time you spent outside before meeting him. It wasn’t your fault life was safer inside a city and behind four walls of a shack, but still, it amused him to remind you of your sheltered past every chance he got. You rolled your eyes, grateful that you were at least still alive. 

“Will it scar? Or peel off like your skin did?” you asked, not sure which possibility you hated most. 

“Whaddaya mean?” he tilted his head at your question, confused. 

“You know, the burns.” you showed him your bright red and blistered forearms as emphasis to what you were talking about. You could only assume your face looked just as bad. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at your question, which only agitated you. “I’m being serious here!” you barked. You creased your brow, which you realized immediately was a huge mistake as the tension on the freshly raw skin caused fireworks to explode in your head and flames to shoot across your skin. You winced from the pain and that got him to stop chuckling. 

“Sorry sweetheart, no, neither is gonna happen. You might lose some skin, but not in the way you're thinkin’. It’s just a sunburn, not like you got attacked with a flamethrower. You’ll be fine.” he explained finally. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, although you still weren’t sure what this so-called “sunburn” was and how it was different from a regular burn. But you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, so you believed him. 

“So what now? We still got at least a day’s walk to town.” with your emergent questions out of the way your mind turned right back to business. Caps were on the line and you were itching to claim them, despite the discomfort traveling imposed on you in your current state. He liked that about you, your desire for caps and the willingness to chase after them with him, though he would rather bite a radroach raw than tell you that to your face. 

“Now? Now we stay put for a while, at least til those burns heal up some. Ain’t no bit of leather and an ol’ beat-up hat gonna protect you enough from the sun if we try to continue on. Right now the only thing I need you to worry ‘bout is finishin’ that water that’s still in your hands.” he leaned back against the opposite wall from you, kicking his legs out and propping his head up with his hands. 

“But-” you tried to rebuttal his decision but he cut you off again before you could. 

“Nah uh, don’ even think about arguin’ here. We even try walkin’ and you’ll collapse again ‘fore we even make it a mile. Best to just stay here and try again once you’re not so dehydrated and redder than a tomato. Few days rest won’t hurt nothin’.” 

“Yeah maybe except our profits,” you told him, quicker this time so he couldn’t interrupt you again. 

“I ain’t riskin’ you over a pile of caps. We’ll make due either way,” he said before closing his eyes, marking the conversation officially over by him. You didn't have a reply anyway, it was rare for him to mention how he felt about you aloud, and each time he did you were left speechless. You stared down at the water can in your hands, tracing your finger gently over the raw edges of steel where his knife had cut through it for you. The metal had been bent back inside the can a little, almost as if someone had shoved a finger through the hole and pushed it back, smoothing out the outer edges where your lips had touched the can. Something in you had a suspicion that if you checked Cooper’s glove you would find scratch marks that would match the size of the hole perfectly. 

Your eyes flicked to him. You weren't sure if he was legitimately asleep or not, but his eyes were still closed and he hadn’t moved an inch. He always talked to you more like an old friend rather than a lover, yet you were pretty sure you were the only person he showed any amount of kindness to. Suddenly his hat felt a little heavier on top of your head as you sat there and pondered where your relationship with him stood. 

[luminouslywriting]

Alright wildcard idea do not attempt unless you’re in at least 69% health: which boys (mota preferred bc I haven’t watched bob yet but if it makes you happy feel free to include them) could you see in a throuple?

Be it one of them with two girls at home that keep each other company until he comes back or reader with two soldiers to worry about.

(Beside whatever Buck and Bucky have going on obviously like come on they’re fooling no one)

Nonny, nonny, nonny....you're so right. The thing is?? It would absolutely happen just like this. And Buck and Bucky? They're really not fooling anyone haha. So this one revolves around Dougie and Blakely....so do with that what you will haha.

More under the cut, cut for length, spice obviously included:

-It wasn't intended to start out this way....

-You were a friend of Douglass's from back home and he invited you to visit him after basic

-And after hitting it off with his friend Blakely and a few too many drinks, the three of you are stumbling after one another back to the hotel where you were staying

-One minute Blakely is in the bathroom and the next minute, you and Douglass are jumping each other's bones

-But then Blakely is watching from the doorway, only halfway coherent

-And it isn't until both of them have had their wicked way with you and several rounds in that any of you are aware of what was going down

-So an awkward conversation is had but you're not about to let go of either of them since they're leaving

-And so what comes about is a throuple and they're pleasantly surprised that this might just work out??

-Those next few weeks before they leave is a whirlwind of romance—the three of you cramming into a shower together, taking turns going out on dates, trying to be normal in public, having wild car sex that almost got you all caught, figuring out how to please one another (you figure out pretty quickly that Ev is a munch and Dougie really likes being in charge).

-The brat taming from the two of them when they team up and talk dirty to you? Unparalleled.

-The seduction that you get to play on both of them and they fall for it every time? Iconic.

-And the thing is?? The three of you are very good at playing things down and just acting like close friends in public

-It's behind closed doors and closets at parties that's a problem—what with Dougie's hand covering your mouth while he's putting your hands to work and Ev is on his knees and drawing every dirty sound to the surface

-But then they're gone and they're across the seas in Europe and it's just hard to be apart from them both

-The love letters contain so many dirty dreams from all three of you, sweet nothings and declarations of love, and some naughty polaroids

-But you're faithfully waiting for the two of them to come back so you can figure things out together—not that any of you has gotten that far (Because at least one is going to marry you, but they're still trying to work that out amongst themselves).

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[bimiio]

tryin soo hard not 2 post abt getting spitroasted again

[the-busy-ghost]

The pandemic isn’t over but even if it were, I am not enjoying being reminded of how close people used to get before the 2020s

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[chuluoyi]

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

general masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gif is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

[erwinsvow]

is rafe every toxic or mean to shy!reader?

i think so.. maybe in the beginning when he's not as trusting yet and still like opening up to the idea that he has a girl who is completely devoted to him and not playing him or sneaking around... walk w me for this idea its a little stupid but its the best i could think of

you'd been trying your best to be a good girlfriend to rafe—you weren't used to him, the kind of boy he was and life he had. you were more sheltered, a little too trusting when someone was nice and too eager to please.

so he gets a little carried away the first time he gets a glimmer of suspicion. because really, you thought it was harmless, wanting to get to know more about your boyfriend. you thought his closest friends would have answers for you, since his sister never anything nice to say.

you didn't like that—it was beginning to bother you more and more. the rafe that was your boyfriend was nothing like the rafe that sarah always described, and you didn't like how you felt about that either. maybe there was a hidden part of rafe that you hadn't been exposed to yet.

not that you wanted to be exposed to it anyways. you much preferred rafe how he was with you—always gentle and nice, not even raising his voice since you didn't react so well to that. and you, being who you are, knew what you needed to do. keep being a perfect girlfriend for rafe so he would never have to yell at you or get mad.

maybe it's a little fucked up. you don't spend too much time thinking about it, maybe because you don't really care. until you're forced to care, that is.

asking topper and kelce for their numbers seemed innocent to you, seemed like nothing at all. you wanted to know what to get rafe—his birthday was coming up and two whole months of dating him. you figured this was the best way to get some answers without appearing too suspicious—rafe would notice immediately if you went and started having entire conversations with his two friends.

unfortunately you're too sweet for your own good—always have been, always will be. you had smiled shyly and politely thanked them for their numbers, but nervously held off on actually asking them for advice until just today. and the two of them, rafe's friends as they are, are still boys. stupid, immature ones—you knew that much from sarah at least.

rafe picks you up for your date at seven on the dot. normally he comes to the door to get you but this time he doesn't—it doesn't matter since you were waiting by the window anyways. he leans over to open the passenger seat door from the inside for you and you beam up at him.

if you were a little less elated—you might have realized rafe always gets out to open the door for you. he helps you up because his truck is so high and you're a little unsteady in the heels you wear for dates.

you've got it tucked in your little purse—a nice watch, in a little red box. it's vintage and pretty and perfect for rafe. you had put topper and kelce in a groupchat this morning and asked what they thought something nice for rafe would be, something he didn't already have in spades.

you just want to wait until after dinner to surprise him with it—but looking at your silent boyfriend drive to the restaurant, you wonder if you'll get the chance.

he doesn't have to say anything, you can tell something's wrong. your smiling greeting had been met with a quiet hey, with no nickname attached at the end. there was no compliment on your new dress or how pretty your hair looked. and worst of all, he hadn't even smiled in your direction since you got in the car.

you must have done something. rafe never took out his bad moods on you. you just don't know what you did.

rafe parks at the restaurant, and you look straight ahead at the sun setting in the clouds, and then down at your lap instead of at your boyfriend, waiting. waiting for him to say something, waiting to figure out what's gone wrong.

neither of you say anything for what feels like ages. rafe sighs—heavy and with a distinctness, like he's annoyed and angry and though he's not saying it, that it's at you.

"c'mon. we're gonna miss our reservation." you look back at him with parted lips and big eyes. if you were a little more confident, more sure of yourself and not so reliant on others for approval, you would shoot back a witty yet cutting remark. it even burns on your tongue-is that really what you care about right now?

but you're not that girl, never have been and never will be.

"rafe, i'm sorry," you finally say, said with such sincerity you don't think you've ever meant a sentence more. "whatever i did, i'm sorry. you're so upset.. and i don't want to ruin dinner-"

"you apologizin' because you know what you did was wrong? or because you want me to stop bein' mad? which one?"

you're a little dumbfounded—you don't think rafe's ever spoken to you like this the whole time you've know him. and you still don't know what you did.

"no, i.. i don't know what i did. i'm just sorry."

it's pathetic, almost. but you are—hopelessly, pathetically in love. so much so you'll apologize without a reason, that you'll do anything to make your boyfriend stop being upset.

"kid, i-i know we haven't been dating that long, but you can't just go around flirting with my friends. it's just not-"

you don't even hear the end of his sentence. flirting? with rafe's friends? you could barely bring yourself to flirt with rafe, much less his friends.

"when did i do that?" you ask, your made-up face twisted in confusion and concern. "rafe, i would never. ew. no offense to them, i guess. but-"

"so you didn't ask kelce and top for their numbers? both of them?"

"is that you think? that i was flirting?" your spine straightens in your seat, cheeks aflame. "is that what they said to you?" suddenly rafe's concerns mean very little—had you given kelce and topper such an impression?

this was bad. this was very bad. that was sarah's ex-boyfriend, and you certainly didn't want your best friend thinking you were flirting with him. or kelce—who you were trying to get set up with your other friend.

"they said you asked for their numbers. that shit's not fun to hear from your friends, kid. s'fucking embarrassing-"

your face feels hotter, if possible. your cheeks are wet with tears, eyes burning with more. it is embarrassing. you should have known that, should have thought it through. of course rafe's friends told him, you hadn't told them to keep it a secret. swallowing painfully, you try to look back at rafe again but it just makes you want to sob.

"i'm sorry rafe," you say, hating how it comes out in between hiccups with fresh tears. "i-i was just-"

"just what?" rafe's tone makes you want to cry even harder. you rummage through your little purse—stupidly realizing you hadn't even brought a wallet, just your lipgloss and rafe's gift. you take out the tiny box, handing it to rafe.

"i-i just wanted to ask them their opinion. what to get you f-for our two months," you hiccup again, watching rafe stare down at the box. "i'm sorry. i'm really sorry, i would never-"

"shit. kid, i-they didn't tell me any of that."

"i just asked today. and i-i didn't tell them to keep it a secret, so it's my fault and i'm really sorry."

you probably sound pathetic—you certainly feel that way. you wouldn't be surprised if rafe turned the car around and dropped you back home.

"hey. hey. look at me. m'sorry, kid. i didn't know any of that. and this is a really sweet gift, okay? i like it. i love it."

you keep blinking back at rafe, unable to do anything else. you still feel stupid. rafe leans over, wiping away some your tears with his hand. you rest your head against his hand when it does it.

"are you still mad?" you ask quietly, still unsure what the answer will be.

"no, baby, m'not bad. i'm sorry."

"okay. i'm sorry too." you stay silent still, unsure what to say. this is the first time you've ever been in a situation like this with rafe. "i think we missed our reservation."

"yeah kid. pizza and ice cream it is."

"no. you can't wear your new watch for pizza and ice cream."

"sure i can. m'never taking this off."

[aliteralsemicolon]

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist. 

Not entirely, at least. 

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life. 

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent. 

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at. 

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen. 

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew. 

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often. 

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details. 

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel. 

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too. 

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over. 

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces. 

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her. 

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface. 

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking. 

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-” 

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring. 

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response. 

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically. 

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia. 

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly. 

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Okay what would you call it then?” 

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” 

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive. 

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution. 

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills. 

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you. 

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off. 

There’s no way. 

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way. 

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him. 

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly. 

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry. 

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self. 

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” 

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve. 

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of. 

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut. 

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours. 

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company. 

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.” 

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you. 

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.” 

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat. 

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again. 

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick. 

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs. 

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him. 

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid. 

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water. 

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again. 

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle. 

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent. 

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend. 

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction. 

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known. 

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else. 

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him. 

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you. 

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible. 

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace. 

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you. 

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do. 

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-” 

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought. 

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you. 

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation. 

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night. 

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build. 

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either. 

“You know…” 

it’s almost not even a whisper, 

“...if I wasn’t who I am…” 

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible. 

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship. 

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back. 

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done. 

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him. 

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now? 

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out. 

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away. 

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes. 

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again. 

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you. 

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back. 

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back? 

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier. 

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel. 

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in. 

Shit. 

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night. 

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did. 

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before. 

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did. 

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together. 

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative. 

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world. 

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt. 

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.” 

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you. 

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads. 

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings. 

“Are you hungry?” 

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care. 

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing. 

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further. 

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him. 

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you. 

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble. 

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts. 

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you. 

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around. 

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“Anywhere you’re not.” 

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway. 

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before. 

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!” 

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car. 

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms. 

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never. 

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly. 

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant. 

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling. 

“Answering a question with a question.” 

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence. 

“Spencer, don’t–” 

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you. 

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration. 

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief. 

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh. 

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life. 

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself? 

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating. 

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response. 

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life. 

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels. 

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him. 

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away. 

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around. 

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist. 

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else. 

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar. 

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee. 

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends. 

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time. 

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand. 

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?” 

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.” 

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!” 

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology. 

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life. 

Spencer would always impact everything in your life. 

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?” 

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman. 

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down. 

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly. 

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores. 

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him. 

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw. 

“What more is there to say?” 

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him. 

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type. 

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him. 

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

 “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication. 

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.  I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls. 

Thank you for reading!

[svtswhorehouse]

OT 13 : drunk or high sex — nsfw

Seungcheol : drunk sex. oh. he gets rough, but like, a good kinda rough. lowkey, gets possessive and loves marking you. make sure you check your neck before you go into work the next morning cause he will leave hickeys !!! likes making sure everyone knows who you belong to and will admit to it, he has no shame.

Jeonghan : high sex. you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to make out with this man when he’s on cloud nine ? i mean, he already has “fuck me” eyes like come on. A TEASE. will tell you to wait when you start to whine cause he’s taking his sweet time. TONGUE DOES WONDERS. your eyes will never not be rolled into the back of your head. lowkey likes it when you pull his hair.

Joshua : neither, but not opposed to trying it out. prefers to be completely present and in the moment. will try it out a few times, kind of has the “if it happens, it happens” mindset. will never say no to you though. if anything it happens more when y’all are tipsy than when y’all are drunk.

Junhui : high sex. will probably make a weird joke mid-fuck and have you being like ????? wtf. but it’s okay cause it’s jun and he’ll have you seeing stars regardless. might have to take a break and switch positions cause weed makes him sleepy.

Hoshi : hear me out, high. thought he was too giggly and accident prone when drunk and didn’t wanna kill the vibe. A MUNCH !!!! like you know how people get the muchies when they’re high ? yeah, hoshi just goes down on you whenever he gets them. would be on a mission to make you squirt.

Wonwoo : high sex. honestly, you wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s high, his composure is insane. lazy sex, but he’ll still do all the work because there’s no way he’s gonna let his princess do any. tbh, really really good at rolling and will hold it up to your lips making direct eye contact while you take a hit.

Woozi : neither. man barely even drinks, what makes you think he lights up ? doesn’t need to be under the influence of anything to get you off and he can prove it to you too.

Dokyeom : drunk sex. giggly !!! all sunshine and smiles. will probably make dirty jokes just for fun, but it’s okay cause at least he makes you feel good. he’ll def pamper you with a bunch of kisses before, after, and during the act. king of aftercare when drunk, even if he knocks over everything in his way by accident but y’all can just deal with that in the morning.

Mingyu : BOTH. would not be opposed to getting cross faded. will take a hit and blow it straight into your mouth to initiate a makeout sesh. passionate and rough about everything !! will most likely end up fucking on every surface, from the couch to the kitchen counter — i would make sure you wipe that off if I were you. after, will either make you food or do a late night convenience store run with you.

Minghao : high sex. slow, sensual, and passionate. honestly might last hours just cause you two get carried away. y’all spend like an hour alone just making out until your lips are all puffy and red. not a talker when high, but he does like to make a lot of eye contact.

Seungkwan : drunk sex. tried it while high once and felt like he wasn’t productive enough ???? for some reason he’s always go, go, go. feels like he can do a lot more and please you better when drunk. a cutie pie, always making sure you’re alright at all times. will probably make you get off on his thigh and you’re not opposed cause have you seen his quads ?????

Vernon : HIGH FOR SURE. man is definitely a stoner in another life. chill. so chill, that you would have to initiate something and he’ll just go along with whatever makes you happy. might whine, but if you hear it, pretend you didn’t. also, has worn his red tinted glasses a few times during the deed for some reason ???? (ifykyk)

Dino : drunk. honestly probably got drunk cause he was trying to calm his nerves. would want to initiate it, but in the end he probably took so long that you did. his biggest fantasies come out when drunk and would either ask to try titty fucking or you’d end up sixty-nining.