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fum1ku · 5 months ago

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LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ��ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should—” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

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chosai · 5 months ago

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break his composure.

synopsis. gaining the title 'duke' not only came with the prestige, but came along the lonely days you spent yearning for your husband as he toggled the new duties and responsibilities he had to face. it was only a matter of time before you decided that you could only have so much patience, deciding that it wouldn't hurt if you played around a little – watching as your husband who held himself in great temperance and sangfroid fall into pieces the more you attempt to break his composure.

pairing. duke!nanami kento x reader genre. nobility au + smut tags. 18+ content mdni. breeding kink, explicit language, rough sex, cunnilingus word count. 4.1k

sora's note. reposted another one of my works from my old writing blog. please enjoy! <3

NANAMI KENTO, no doubt, was a powerful young man who earned himself the title Duke from the royal king after his contribution and victory in the most recent war. Of course, now that he was given the new title, he was given a whole lot of responsibilities and duties that he’s got to fulfill now that he had plenty more people to protect. Nowadays, the young duke would either be found training his lot of knights, hunting, or cooped up in his grand office busying himself with myriads of documents. Despite being incredibly proud of his achievements, you still couldn’t help but yearn for the affection of your beloved husband.

Many nights were spent alone, staring up at the tall dark ceiling while you silently counted sheep – hoping that once you had reached a hundred, he would arrive and join you in bed (he’d often fall asleep on the sofa in his office). And, many nights were spent with you fending for yourself when you longed for his touch, arching your back when you’d climax on your fingers – however, you never felt fully satisfied. Your fingers could never compare to his larger and thicker fingers, nor his…

You shake your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks growing redder by the lewd thoughts of your husband swimming through your mind. The last time you had intercourse with the male was when you both consummated the marriage, which was almost half a year ago, and then a month after that, the war happened – and two months later, he’d come back with a new title, Duke. Everything else after that was a blur. He was just within your reach — residing in the same manor and all, could almost reach for him but always got farther and farther away. You miss your husband, desperately.

You stroll through the hallways of the manor, taking small strides towards the familiar giant door with a board of your freshly baked bread balanced in your hands. You continue to hum a gentle tune as you got closer and closer to the door. Although, it may appear to other people that his wife was innocently barging into his office thus surprising him with baked goods made with love – However, unknowingly for them, you had other plans hidden up your sleeves.

“Kento,” your voice gentle as you call out his name, “I brought you something that I think you’d love!”

You open the door further, revealing your husband — as per usual — busying himself with his documents. Fatigue was plastered all across his face, though he tried his best to mask it, but the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes were of no help. You could tell that even his muscles had gotten sore from training and staying seated for long periods of time. You placed the bread tray in front of him, and you walked around the desk to stand next to your husband.

“Thank you, honey,” He quickly thanks you, sending you a quick nod of acknowledgement. Your husband was in pure autopilot mode, his hand continuously signing the documents despite him slowly losing focus — desperately trying to keep them open rather than succumbing to slumber.

“You should take a moment to relax, Kento.” You say. Just as he is about to come up with some type of excuse as to why he shouldn’t take a break, you lean in closer to his ear. “Let me help you.”

Your hands travel up to his back, and you applied some pressure on his shoulders while you massaged him. Your husband releases a low groan when you apply even more pressure on a stubborn muscle knot on his shoulders. You smile when he relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes while he leaned closer into you as you massaged into his sore muscles until those pesky knots disappeared. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel much better,” Kento sighs, humming pleasantly, “ Thank you for the bread, too. I’ll make sure to finish it while I continue working.”

“Can’t your break be a little longer?” You probe at him, pouting softly. “I missed you.”

A sudden wave of boldness and confidence overtakes your consciousness, and you bring yourself down on his lap, your arms snaking around your husband’s muscular shoulders. Kento looks completely taken aback, and you eat that expression up as if it is candy.

“Kento,” you begin, “can’t you see that your cute and loving wife misses you?”

You press your lips against his ear, before whispering: “I’ve been thinking about you so much, putting a baby inside of me.”

Slowly, you thrust your hips against his thigh, watching your husband in pure amusement as he attempts to keep his composure; his hand tightening on his pen, knuckles white. Almost immediately, you can feel him hardening underneath you, and you grin almost immediately. Something about his reaction swells your heart with pride, knowing that despite being busy you still, somewhat, had an effect on him. Even more, Kento is taken aback, completely speechless (and undeniably turned on) from his wife’s bold ministrations.

“B-baby inside..?” His voice comes out as a dry rasp, his eyes wide .

Before your husband can process anything else, he felt the weight on his lap disappearing, and he quickly stares up to watch you getting ready to leave. You fixed the wrinkles on the hem of your dress, trying to fight back the grin on your face after having just teased your usually stoic husband. He had always appeared so cool and composed, so watching him try so hard to keep his composure undeniably gives you some type of thrill.

“Y/N?” He calls out your name, looking visibly confused. Your eyes travel down to your husband’s trousers, smiling innocently as you caught sight of the large tent growing between his legs.

“I almost forgot to mention, but the marchioness invited me to her manor for a tea party.” You say, attempting to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat while your husband appears flustered. “I won’t be back until tonight.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, not before licking his bottom lip as you pull away. You are being far too mean with your husband, but you can’t help it — watching him slowly crack beneath your manipulation sends a shock of arousal straight between your legs. “Until then, promise me that you’ll finish the bread and take breaks when you need it, okay?”

Before the man can even muster a single response, you walked out of his office. Only two could play at this game, you think to yourself as you close the office door behind you.

Hours have already passed and you finish catching up with the noble ladies, exchanging your goodbyes and letters before parting ways. It has truly been a while since you had last caught up with your friends. Nevertheless, the time spent at your friend’s manor is enjoyable, listening to all the spicy gossip while enjoying desserts and tea.

The ride back home in the carriage is silent — the only sound present were the continuous patters from the horses’ steps. You stare outside the window, quietly watching the manor eventually disappearing as the carriage goes further away in distance. It is already a quarter past nine, perhaps the latest you have ever stayed out, and it is safe to assume that your beloved husband is probably resting on the sofa in his office again.

You lean your back against the seat, pressing the side of your head against the window as your eyes begin to grow heavy, the distant sounds of the horses’ steps gradually lulling you into a short slumber.

“My lady, we’ve arrived.”

“Oh my, we’re already here?” You ponder to yourself out loud, groggily opening your eyes. You place your hands atop the coachman’s guiding you down the carriage, and you stare at the tall manor before you. Once you enter inside, you are automatically greeted with your maids ushering you to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Undeniably, you felt a little disappointed, as you believe that your husband had unknowingly proved your point from earlier — you, at least, hoped that he’d stay awake a little longer. You sink lower into the tub, blowing bubbles as you scrunch your brows together, the water hiding pouting lips. The maid had left you alone earlier, telling you that she’d return with a towel soon, but it’s been moments.

You glance around the bathroom, trying to decipher the exact location of your nightgown. Ah, it was on the stool, next to the door. If anyone had walked in on you grabbing your nightgown from the stool, the only thing they’d see is your wet and bare body. It shouldn’t be too bad, though —after all, it’s always been your maids coming in. Slowly, you stand up from the large tub, and you immediately shiver from the wave of cold air rushing to you,, cool beads of water dripping down your body. With careful steps, you make your way across the room, your hand reaching out towards your nightgown.

You suddenly hear a knock on the door, and you instinctively grab the gown to cover the front of your body. It must be the maid, you think to yourself and you try to mimic that of a stern face — however, you can’t bring yourself to be too harsh on a new maid, after all. You watch the door open slowly, and you tap your fingers against your elbows. “Hana, where were you all this… Oh.”

Almost immediately, your face is sent aflame and you scurry away from the door, your failed attempt of a stern persona pathetically crumbling away as the space revealed no one other than your husband standing in front of the doorway with a towel in his hand. Hazel eyes travel up and down your frame, his jaw tensing at the sight of your bunched up nightgown barely covering your body — hell, it didn’t cover anything, he stares longingly at your left breast deciding to slip out of the covers. He steps into the room and closes the door shut immediately, his eyes still locked into your frame and he stays silent.

You press the nightgown against your body even more and you look away from his gaze, as if it could help hide your insecurities that are growing the more he stared and stayed silent. However, all that stops when you glance back at your husband and he gives you a come hither motion with his index finger. “Kento,” you say his name softly, “I thought you were asleep—”

“Come here,” is all he says to you, his voice low and baritone. You easily comply with his words, taking small strides to get closer to the male. “Hand me your nightgown.”

“I thought it was Hana that knocked,” you say quietly as you hand your husband your nightgown, further revealing your naked body. You can hear Kento’s breath hitch for a mere moment before he quickly regains his composure — however, it is already so fragile. He swiftly wraps the towel around your body before pulling you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips while he leans closer to your face with stern eyes. “You’re lucky that it was me, then. What were you thinking about going out of the bath like that? What if it wasn’t Hana or I that walked in?”

“I didn't want to stay in the bath anymore, and I genuinely believed that my maids would be the only ones to walk in. Because of that, I didn’t feel too worried.” You answer your husband softly, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. “Despite you giving me a bit of a surprise, I can’t say that I’d rather have Hana come here instead of you.”

“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. I did tell her that I’d take care of the rest and she could rest for the night.” He hummed, before lifting you up in his arms without any warning, immediately eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

“W-what are you doing?” You question your husband, stammering as you instinctively place your hand onto his chest.

“You know, after you played your little game earlier, I wasn’t able to do my work properly.” says Kento, opening the bathroom door. “I believe you should bear some sort of responsibility, no?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter under your breath, masking a soft grin as you nuzzle your face into your husband’s neck.

“Putting a baby inside you,” he says, a slight strain present in his baritone voice as he continues walking down the hall with your towel-covered body in his arms. The walk down to your shared bedroom feels like an eternity has passed, the sounds of his footsteps resonating across the quiet hall. You want to question him where the rest of maids and butlers had gone but you relented, your body tense under the man’s carnal gaze.

“If fucking a baby inside of you is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get. It’s what my sweet wife asked for, after all.”

“H-Honey, what are you—?”

With one hand, Kento swiftly opens the bedroom door. You let out a small shriek when he throws you on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed, his large hands pinning your hands above your head. He has this carnal glint in his amber eyes as he stares deeply into yours, it was as if all his self-control was beginning to crumble right before your eyes — you’ve never seen him like this; a cool, composed and reserved man looking so disheveled above you—his dress shirt buttoned loosely, revealing his collarbones and the evident incarnadine flush radiating onto his cheeks. Truly, it is a delicious sight to behold, and the wetness dwelling between your legs only seems to grow the longer you stare at the man.

“What a lewd woman, you are.” He mutters, his grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand trails down your chest, slowly pulling the towel down. “Was my sweet wife having fun playing teatime after leaving me to take care of this?”

Before you can even utter a word, a sudden gasp leaves your lips when Kento grinds his hips against yours; the delightful friction of the erection growing in his trousers rubbing against your clit, your back arching in hopes to get more. “I missed you,” you say between heavy breaths, “I missed you so much—Ah! Y-You’ve been so cooped up in your o-office lately and ngh..”

Your words were cut abruptly by his lips, teeths clashed and tongues intertwined while his rough and calloused fingers trail up your torso, towards your bare chest in a teasingly slow pace. A muffled moan leaves your lips, only to be covered by your husband’s lips, as he teases your already erect nipples.

“Tell me more,” said your husband, his lips leaving yours.

With heavy eyes, you watch Kento’s lips trail to where his hands once rested. His tongue swirls around the mound before sucking on your skin harshly, and you rest your fingers tangled in his blond locks as he continues to elicit those cute sounds coming from your swollen lips.

“You’ve been so busy with your duties as the duke, and—Mhhm..!—I-I’ve been feeling so alone these many nights while I longed for you, so so desperately. I love you so much Kento—Ah!” You mewl out those words in unadulterated wanton, your voice all shakey, it almost sounds embarrassingly pathetic when your husband is doing nothing more than teasing your breasts rather than fucking you relentlessly in the mattress. You can barely care less about how you sound though, because his lips and touch alone are enough to send you into ecstasy. You want him to touch you more. The needy ache between your legs continuously grows more intense the longer he teases you.

“H-Honey, ‘want more. Please.” You beg your husband, your fingers desperately trying to unbutton his wrinkled dress shirt. “I need more of you.”

Kento doesn’t reply back, continuing his little ministrations on your neglected mound. It is adorable seeing him so focused on pleasuring you, but the heat you feel in your pussy feels too overwhelming. You push your husband’s head away from your mound, his lips leaving your skin with a soft ‘pop!’ He glances at you questioningly.

It was a bold and sudden decision that you had made on a whim out of sheer desperation, but his reaction made it all the more worth it. As soon as your fingers leave his half-buttoned dress shirt, you hook your arms underneath your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your cunt drenched in your desperate juices. “Kento, I mean it when I told you that I wanted you to put a baby in me.”

His mouth is left agape at your sudden boldness, his eyes fixated on the juices slowly dripping out of your hole — his breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches your small fingers spread your pussy lips apart. “Kento, touch me. Please.”

“Shit.”

It is almost as if the string has finally snapped inside of him, because before his mind can even start to think properly, his hands are on your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart as he begins the merciless assault on your dripping folds; his tongue lapping at all your wetness as if he was animal thirsty for water. Kento almost groans at the way his finger stretches your pussy, his finger sliding in almost immediately due to your juices. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “you’re so wet for me.”

He slides his index finger in and out before adding a second finger to the mix. He starts off slow, but his pace gradually quickens to that of which is considered merciless. The sounds of your wet cunt getting demolished by his fingers echoes in the grand room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hips thrash against his fingers, and you can feel the sensation of pressure that was building up in your abdomen intensifying the more that he pleases you with his large fingers. Within less than a second, you cum intensely around his fingers, a loud moan erupting from your throat as your body slumps against Kento.

‘His fingers feel so much better compared to my fingers,’ you think to yourself as you try to recover from your first orgasm.

While you attempt to catch your breath, you glance back to Kento only to watch him undress with your mouth salivating. It’s already a given that your husband would be incredibly fit as he often trains with the knights and hunts (while not forgetting the night you had consummated with him in the dark the past few months ago — you felt every crevice of his muscles) — but now, seeing it up close and so clearly — he is truly a sight to behold. You reach your arm towards his chiseled abdomen, your fingers drawing hearts across his skin, and your eyes travel lower past his abdomen; staring intently at the huge tent growing beneath his underwear. You want to get fucked by this man already, so so bad.

“Kento,” you say his name softly, tracing your fingers along the outline of your husband’s clothed erection before trailing back up to the waistband, tugging it down slightly to expose more of his v-line. He tugs his boxers down completely, and your mouth immediately waters at the exquisite sight. He is a lot bigger than you had remembered.

When he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your folds, shivers trickle down your spine as you raise your hips to meet his, attempting to get him inside.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Look at you all spread open for me, desperate to get a taste of my cock.”

He slips his tip in, eliciting a sharp breath past your trembling lips, and then he pulls out. You whine out his name in a bated breath, your cheeks flushed in an incarnadine hue. Kento spares you a soft smile, almost as if it was mocking you, before he fills your hole up to the very brim — splitting your pussy open.

“Oh fuck—Kento!” A scream slips past your lips, your eyes scrunched shut as a huge wave of pleasure rushes through your veins, sending goosebumps on your skin. Your husband is relentless with his movements, your legs spread apart by his strong grip. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours along with cries of his name resonates across the bedroom, coupled with the intense squeaking from the mattress. “F-Feels so good—Ahn! Please—Please don’t stop—Oh!”

“You dirty woman,” Kento sneers, “we’ve just started and your pussy’s already so greedy for my cum by how tight you’re squeezing me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get my sweet wife pregnant—filled with all my cum.”

With that, he spreads your legs even wider and leans his torso closer to yours; his face merely centimeters away from yours. “I can feel you getting tighter,” He says, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “you’re getting real close, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to properly reply though, as he trails his one hand down to your clit and rubs rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a silent scream—your mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you ride out your orgasm, arching your back against his chest.

You are barely given enough time to recover when Kento returns to work, his lips instantly connecting to yours while he thrusts his cock inside your sopping hole with a stuttering pace. His hands travel up to your breasts and gives them a harsh squeeze, the pace of his thrusts quickening. Your husband looks utterly delectable, his face scrunched up as he focuses on your pleasure, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Pleasure fills your veins, and your cries only increase in volume the closer you are to reaching your second orgasm.

Thoughts of you being all plumped up and pregnant play repeatedly in his mind, and it merely ignites his desire to pump all his cum into you. Breaths ragged, he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck, nails gripping into your hips as he continues to plummet into you. “K-Kento—!” You wantonly whine out his name, wrapping your legs tightly around your husband’s hips. “Cum inside me—please. Want your kids so bad.”

How can he not cum? Especially when the sight of his sweet wife being drunk on his dick is right before his eyes. With a groan (combined with a growl) of your name along with a string of curses leaving his lips, he stiffens up inside you; warm ropes of his cum coating your walls white.

Upon pulling out, he watches large beads of white leaking out of your hole and he sticks his finger inside, pushing his cum back inside. You released a soft sigh in pleasure, your legs slightly twitching at your husband’s touch.

“How are you feeling now?” Questions your husband, Kento. You reach your arm out to his face, your thumb tracing light circles on his cheekbones.

“I’m a happy, happy wife,” you reply to him, laughing softly before leaning into his lips, giving him a soft peck. Kento chuckles lightly into the kiss. “Was I too rough with you?” He asks you once more, and you shake your head immediately.

“I think I’ve realized just now how much I enjoy being manhandled by you,” you reply back to him, giggling. “Rather, I enjoy seeing this new side of you.”

Your giggles quickly gets replaced by a slight gasp when your husband suddenly adjusts your position, your face and chest now pressed against the mattress with your husband behind you, his hand lightly rubbing his erect cock. Swiftly, you turn your head to Kento, your mouth agape as you are just about to question him but the sting of his hand on your ass immediately erases all rational thoughts in your mind. Heat immediately rushes to your face once more at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensation.

“K-Kento,” you are able to utter your husband’s name, your arms already feeling weak from holding yourself up from the mattress. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he slowly rubs his cock against you from behind, your ears picking up a hoarse chuckle.

“I never said I was done with you,” Kento tells you, “not until I’m sure that you’ll get pregnant with all my cum.”

interactions + reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

#ੈ✩‧˚sora’s creations #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut

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rebeccccccaaa · 7 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

_______________

It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites.

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now.

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked.

“Then why are you calling?”

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most.

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him.

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically.

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though.

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.”

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too.

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though.

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh.

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips.

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him.

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper.

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out.

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you.

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them.

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day.

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always.

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself.

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered.

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you.

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud.

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that.

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl.

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself.

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs.

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together.

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy.

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax.

“Oh god, too much, Spence.”

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously.

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly.

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs.

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined.

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined.

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained.

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course.

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of.

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him.

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe.

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face.

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle.

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place.

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time.

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp.

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again.

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax.

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated.

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high.

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before.

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer.

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently.

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted.

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.”

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face.

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read.

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet.

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing.

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back.

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you.

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #first fic back!!#hope you enjoyed reading #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #reader insert #smut

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theotherbuckley · 3 months ago

Text

“I need a hair cut,” Evan says offhandedly one morning, his fingers running through his apparently too long strands.

Tommy’s gaze snaps away from the paper held in his hands to Evan. He’s shakes his head, opens his mouth before shutting it again, thinking through his words.

“If you— if you want to,” Tommy says, trying to be supportive of his boyfriend’s decisions whilst already mourning the loss of his Evan’s perfect hair.

“Do you— do you not think I should?” Evan asks, looking over to Tommy. He’s still got his fingers in his hair, brushing the loose curls away from his eyes.

“I— I think it’s cute,” Tommy admits, dropping his gaze and blushing slightly.

“You do?” Evan says, almost in awe. Tommy’s always found it ridiculously adorable how receptive his boyfriend is to praise.

“Yeah, baby. It’s my favourite thing to play with,” he replies.

Evan’s eyes light up, a cheeky glint forming in them, and he smiles. “Your favourite thing to play with?” He says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Absolute dork.

Tommy rolls his eyes fondly. “Second favourite,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Evan smirks. “Okay, well, I still need to cut my hair because it’s getting in my eyes at work. And ever since Eddie grew his moustache, Gerrard has been extra vigilant about everyone’s appearance.”

Tommy winces slightly at the mention of the fire captain, memories of the years of emotional repression and his own wrongdoings rising to the forefront of his mind every time the man was talked about. Tommy tries to shake out the thoughts of the man, focusing instead of the gorgeous man in front of him.

“That’s fair,” Tommy agrees. “But uh— well, if you wanted to keep the curls a bit, I wouldn’t be opposed.” That’s an understatement, he loves Evan’s curls, loves how soft they make him look, how they feel under his hands when he runs his fingers through them, loves how he can tug on them and how loudly Evan responds when he does.

Evan smiles at him, his grin almost blinding like the sun — warm and bright, giving Tommy no other option but to smile back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evan says, nodding to himself like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Tommy doesn’t get to see the look until two days later. He’s just come off of a gruelling 24-hour shift, with plans to spend the night at Evan’s house. They’ve been together long enough now that he doesn’t feel he has to dress up for the occasion, not that he doesn’t like to put a little effort in for his man, but he can come home after a long shift and cuddle up with his boyfriend like there’s no where else he’s meant to be.

Tommy unlocks the door of Evan’s apartment, smiling softly as he uses the key Evan had recently given him, still unable to contain his joy at the fact that he gets to have this. He wanders over to the lounge, hearing the sound of the TV playing.

Tommy freezes when he spots his boyfriend. He’s laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket because that man was always cold. He looks ridiculously cute snuggled up on the couch, but that isn’t what stops Tommy in his tracks.

Nope.

Peaking out of the blankets is Evan’s gorgeous face with his pretty pink lips matching the shade of his birthmark. His hair has been cut, sideburns faded away at the sides, the sides and back of his hair having lost some of their weight, and on top lay light brown curls perfectly fluffy, looking so soft. Tommy needed to run his fingers through.

“Hey,” Evan says, shuffling slightly where he sits so that he can look over at Tommy. Tommy who’s currently staring slack jawed at his head, practically drooling over the sight of him.

“Oh yeah,” Evan says, pointing up to his head. “Do you like it?”

Tommy blinks. “Do I— Do I like it?” Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ, Evan,” he says, finally regaining control of his body as he stalks towards his boyfriend.

Evan tilts his head, confused, but it doesn’t last long because Tommy’s on him in an instant, pressing his lips firmly against Evan’s, swallowing any question that he was going to ask. “Do you. Have any idea. How fucking hot. You look right now?” Tommy says, kissing Evan’s irresistible lips between words.

The corner of Evan’s lips tilt upwards against Tommy’s lips as he smiles. “So you like it?” Evan whispers into Tommy’s mouth, seeking confirmation which Tommy is very happy to provide.

Tommy moves back slightly to slide his fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as they look. Tommy grins at Evan, “I fucking love it,” he says, closing his fingers around some strands and tugging, pulling Evan until their mouths join once more. Tommy swallows the moans that Evan lets out at the action, gripping him close.

Fuck, he is the luckiest man alive.

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 fandom #purple writes #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #911 ficlet #911 #911 show #tevan #kinkley

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flickering-chandelier · 4 months ago

Text

My Pain Fits in the Palm of Your Freezing Hand

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are mutually pining for each other, but they don’t know it. Reader has been feeling all kinds of insecure lately, and as soon as Azirel figures out what’s wrong, he’s determined to help her see just how amazing she is.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: body insecurities, a little angst

Word Count: 2.2k

Azriel stared at the ceiling in the dark, his wings splayed out beneath him in his gigantic bed at the House of Wind.

His shadows danced around him, seemingly trying to coax him to sleep already, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to for weeks.

There was something going on with you, he could tell. You were being more distant than usual, quieter. Not just with him, but with all of your other friends, too.

Attempting to push the worry aside, he instead replayed scenes in his mind of you smiling at him, leaning your shoulder against his, brushing your fingers with his.

That had been the one thing that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You had never shied away from his scars, had never even looked at them for too long or asked questions. You had always touched him with your soft skin without any hesitation or reservations, right from the beginning.

Maybe he had fallen in love with you right then, that first time your hand brushed against his. He couldn’t be sure.

It didn’t matter, though, not really. You clearly saw him as a friend.

That was always the way, wasn’t it?

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, his concern flooding through him once again.He wasn’t sure you had someone to talk to, someone that you could unload your worries on.

Of course, he wanted to be that person for you. He just wasn’t sure how to get there.

It was remarkable really, how he could be so entirely exhausted from the day, yet his mind wouldn’t cease whispering to him about you.

At this rate, he would be lucky if he got even an hour’s worth of sleep before the sun came up.

---

Azriel looked like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Again.

He was still the most beautiful man alive, obviously. But those bags under his eyes couldn’t lie to you as well as the shadowsinger himself could.

And you knew it had been a lie when you had asked him if he was okay before Rhys’s inner circle meeting and he had offered you that crooked smile and reassured you that he was. Because Az only loses sleep when something is really bothering him.

His eyes settled on you across the table as Rhysand and Cassian bickered about some matter in the mountains. You readjusted your dress, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything to actually conceal how uncomfortable you had been feeling in your own skin these days.

It had been a nightmare getting dressed this morning, as it had been for weeks. Nothing about you had really changed, but recently you were having a more difficult time accepting that all of your dresses prominently showed your belly, the curves, and rolls that were not in flattering places.

Azriel’s eyes tracked the movements of your hands smoothing down your dress and you felt even more self conscious. It was a great effort to stop squirming and keep your hands at your sides, forcing your gaze on Rhysand.

Out of everyone, why did Azriel have to be the observant one who would surely notice how frumpy the dress looked on your body, especially compared to the High Lady at the head of the table? Surely it would’ve been better to have a massive crush on Cassian, who hardly looked at what anyone was wearing unless it was something revealing.

Azriel, though. Azriel noticed everything.

The thought was like a pit of dread in your stomach. Surely he knew how you felt about him.

It was embarrassing, really. The two of you had become pretty good friends over the last few years, after Rhysand had recruited you into his inner circle.

But, the more you got to know him, the stronger your feelings became, the more you withdrew. You didn’t want to bother him or annoy with your feelings, with your insecurities, your past. He had enough to deal with on his own, and he didn’t need you pestering him.

Without you even realizing it, the meeting had drawn to a close, and everyone was standing up, milling around before going about their day.

Suddenly Azriel appeared at your side, so close that one of his shadows tickled your arm. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours like he could see straight into your soul.

“Good,” you couldn’t help but smile in his presence.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the side of his mouth twitched up into half a smile. “Liar,” he murmured.

“Those damn shadows,” you scoffed.

“I didn’t need the shadows to help me out with that one,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

You felt your cheeks warm at his closeness, the intensity of his gaze. You needed to change the subject. Quickly. “How are you?”

His smile grew slightly. “Good.”

“Liar,” you grinned, arching your eyebrow.

He snorted before leveling his gaze on you again. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

You hesitated. “It’s… a lot. And it’s also a little dumb. All at the same time.”

“Sounds like you need someone to talk to,” he said quietly. As he said it, you could have sworn that you saw his fingers flex slightly, like they wanted to reach for you.

“You don’t have to worry about my problems,” you said halfheartedly.

“I’ll be worrying about them whether or not you tell me,” he murmured.

The way he was looking at you, the concern dancing in his eyes… it made your knees weak. It also seemed to have made your brain short circuit because that’s really the only thing that would actually explain the response that came out of your mouth. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

You followed Azriel upstairs, to a sitting room near the bedroom that he frequented in the House of Wind.

You weren’t sure how you could possibly form the words in a way that would make sense to him, in a way that wouldn’t make you seem crazy or foolish.

But, he had offered, and he really seemed to care. So you would try. For him, if not for yourself.

---

You looked nervous as you settled into the armchair across from him, your hands wringing in your lap, your gaze landing anywhere but on Azriel.

He couldn’t imagine what plagued you so, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make you feel okay again.

“So,” you began, then clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes finally darted up, meeting his. “I don’t know how to explain any of it.”

Azriel couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that rushed out of him. “Do you want me to go first?”

That seemed to get your attention. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees. “Yes. Why do you look like you haven’t been sleeping?”

His brow furrowed in surprise. “You noticed that?”

You nodded, somewhat bashfully, your cheeks slightly pink. “I just -- I’ve been worried about you.”

Azriel’s heart did a somersault in his chest. His mouth tugged up into a smile. “I’ve been worried about you. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

His expression softened as he gazed at you. “I care about you. When there’s something upsetting you, I tend to lose sleep,” he said gently.

“You…” you began, but trailed off. Azriel could practically see the wheels turning in your brain. “You really care about me that much?”

Azriel blew out a breath. “Cauldron, you’re really going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, but you remained silent.

“I love you,” he murmured, surprising even himself that he finally said it. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Azriel held his breath as he waited for your response. Finally, you said, “Why?”

That was not the response he had been hoping for. “What do you mean, why?”

You made an exasperated noise, seemingly unable to look at him. “I just don’t understand. I’m awkward and annoying and I look awful in all of my clothes, and no matter what I do, I can’t fix the parts of my body that I don’t like--”

Azriel ended up right in front of you without even realizing that he had moved. He took both of your hands in his. “Hey, stop for a minute,” he said gently, though the way you were talking about yourself had his blood practically boiling. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “You’re wrong,” he said simply, once your breathing had calmed.

“What?” you choked out.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured, rubbing the backs of your knuckles with his scarred thumbs. “I can’t think of anybody less annoying than you. I always want to be around you. Always,” he smiled, leaning closer to you conspiratorially. “And you know what else?”

You stayed silent, your lips slightly parted. Heat rushed through his body as he leaned closer still, bringing his mouth to your ear. “You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, actually.”

That was when you took a step back, pulling your hands from his. Azriel’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do that,” you said sadly.

“You don’t believe me?” Azriel asked. He couldn’t understand it. Why couldn’t you see yourself the way that he saw you?

“I just… You don’t have to say all that to make me feel better,” you said. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but --”

“I’m not trying to be nice,” Azriel spat.

Your eyes widened at the sudden outburst and he sighed, taking a step closer to you again. It was an effort to calm his voice, to not be frustrated with you for thinking that he could possibly make something like this up. “I’m not trying to be nice,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m telling you what I’ve been wanting to admit to you for years.”

When you remained silent, he knew he would have to prove it to you.

He gently took your hand in his again. “Come with me?”

You hesitated for a moment, but then followed him without a word. He led you to his bedroom, where he stood behind you as you faced a large floor length mirror on the wall.

“Oh gods, I do not want to do this,” you groaned.

“Just humor me, okay?” he said gently.

You sighed, but squared your shoulders and looked pointedly into the mirror. Azriel couldn’t help the swell of pride that he felt at that.

“I’m not sure what you see,” he murmured, dying to touch you, but keeping his hands to himself for the moment. “But I see a woman with the most stunning eyes,” you smiled slightly at that, your eyes crinkling around the corners. Azriel smiled, lightly curling a lock of your hair around his finger. “And the most beautiful hair. I’ve thought about running my hands through this hair about a million times.”

Azriel heard your breath hitch, and it took everything he had in him to not throw you onto the bed right then and there. Slowly, your eyes met his in the mirror. “And your smile?” His own smile grew at the thought. “Gods. I don’t even have words for your smile.”

He went on and on, his fingers lightly trailing down your sides as he revealed the truth to you, the truth of how long he had been watching you, how badly he had wanted you.

“Don’t you see?” he finally asked quietly. “Don’t you see what I see?”

Slowly, you turned around to face him. “Thank you, Azriel. I believe you. I believe that it’s what you see. But…”

He arched an eyebrow. “But?”

“I’m too much work,” you said quietly. “I’m too much work to love. I’ve got too much baggage.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You think I don’t understand being insecure?” he says, holding his scarred hands up in front of him. “You think I don’t understand carrying the burden of the past?”

“But--”

“Do you think I’m too much work?” he asked.

“No, of course not.”

He looked at you pointedly. “Listen to me. I love you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And if you’ll let me, I’ll remind you every day how beautiful, smart, kind, and incredible you are.” He settled his hands on your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re not too much. I’ll work every day for eternity for you. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked up at him, and he gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “I love you,” you choked out.

Azriel couldn’t hold it back anymore. He kissed you softly, and you melted into him the moment his lips met yours.

He held you close, cradling you to his chest, determined to be whatever you needed for as long as you would let him.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @evergreenlark @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @marina468

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar azriel #request

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lovemikage · 21 days ago

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𝘽𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙈 : 𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ( 𝙛𝙩. 𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞 )

summary: you confess to your boyfriend bachira you think his best friend isagi is cute. he decides to do some meddling of his own. wc: 1.4k warnings: fem!reader, dub-conish (reader isn't aware isagi is there oops), humiliation, praise, gratuitous dialogue a/n: hello hello beautiful people ! this is my submission for @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event, with the prompt bachira & humiliation ! please check out the other writers + fics if they tickle your fancy. i have not written smut like this in ... a year, i think, so please be gentle with me. hope you love it, please comment & rb if you do ! credit to @/cafekitsune for the beautiful mdni divider !

" he feels the same, you know. i don’t know why you were so secretive. "

your eyes, previously squeezed shut, fly open, and every muscle that had been turned into jelly from your recent orgasm tenses up immediately. you shift with the intention to move away from your boyfriend, but it’s in vain – bachira’s large palm and long fingers splay against your pelvis, pushing you down into the bed. it doesn’t hurt, nothing with bachira ever does, but it’s insistent in the same way his fingers circling your clit are.

" what do you – ah! – m-meguru, what do you m-mean? " you know what he means, you’re unsure why you’re asking. bachira doesn’t mind, though, he always loves to tell a story.

“ well – " his tone is sing-song, sickly sweet, and it’s clear he’s having way more fun than he should be ( than you think he should be, anyway ). a lithe finger pushes its way through your folds to slip inside of you, and your hips buck at the same time you whine – too much, not yet, still sensitive. he won’t listen, “ remember that one time you told me ‘sagi was cute? then played it off like you were joking? you were right, by the way, so don’t think i’m mad, promise i’m not. but it got me thinking – "

one finger turns to two and the burn makes you squeeze your eyes shut again. it’s nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, but enough to make you just that little bit uncomfortable. it doesn’t help that you’re so on edge, “ bachira – "

“ shhhhh. anyway, it got me thinking, you know? he’d never admit it ‘cause he’s my best friend, but i know he thinks you’re cute. " the look you give him has his head shaking, “ don’t talk! i’m not done – i remembered, when we first met you he called dibs. you liked me more – obviously – so that didn’t matter, just a funny joke after the fact. regardless, i had the idea to … well, i was eavesdropping on you the other day – "

an indignant sound leaves you and you squirm more; bachira sighs, lets his golden eyes flick down to your ankle, pretty pink panties dangling from them. quickly he pauses, uses the hand on your hips to pick it up. you whimper, both from the loss of movement inside of you and because you know what he’s about to do, you’ve had enough sex throughout the course of your relationship ( more than normal, according to your friends ). you’re proved right when he taps the side of your cheek, prompting you to open up – you do, ever-obedient, despite the red-hot humiliation burning in your cheeks. cotton presses between your lips and fills your mouth, your whine becomes muffled. bachira beams, “ there we go. always so good for me, hm? “ another pat to your cheek. your eyes start to water – you feel like a prized showdog or something.

“ much better. " you fight the urge to roll your eyes; it doesn’t last long because bachira’s back to hovering next to you, his shadow imposing. you feel vulnerable, exposed and open for whatever he wants to do. right now, it seems like all he wants to do is make you cum in the most embarrassing way possible. he scissors his fingers and grins when you cry out, big and goofy and too lighthearted for what he’s talking about, “ back to what i was saying – i was eavesdropping on you and your friends the other night. sue me, i’m curious. heard you talking about him – agreeing when one of them said he’s hot, you know, stuff like that. kept it in the back of my mind for later. but then – yesterday, when i came home, i got here earlier than you thought i did. found you. ”

your mind races in an attempt to figure out where your boyfriend is going with all of this. yesterday, yesterday – oh. oh my god.

“ you’re so cute when you moan, you know? i know i always tell you, but i can’t help it. so pretty, just like – " bachira curls his fingers, lets them brush against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eliciting a low, muffled moan, “ – that. you were doing that, saying my name, like always. i was just about ready to go in when i heard his, too. s’when i realized it was time. "

the tears previously welling up fall, now. big, fat droplets running down your face, taking your mascara with them and smearing the pretty makeup you’d done for your date tonight. you feel pathetic, like you’d been caught. it makes sense, now; you thought you had heard him come in before he announced himself, but it didn’t make sense, so you brushed it off. now you realize he had just gone back out and made a point of announcing his entrance the second time. you want to look away in embarrassment but bachira won’t let you, his fingers picking up their pace at the same time he grips your chin in his hand. combined with the panties stuffing your mouth, you can’t say what you want to – i’m sorry, i’m sorry, it doesn’t mean anything, i’m sorry.

what’s worse is it all feels so good, bachira’s fingers pumping inside of you at an almost dizzying pace, thumb carefully circling your clit with just enough pressure to make all thoughts leave your head. you can feel your orgasm fast approaching, a knot in your tummy threatening to unravel. it always amazes you, how bachira knows just how to make you fall apart within seconds. he knows you inside and out, could take you apart and put you back together again. sometimes you think he’d probably like to.

in your panicked state, though, you hadn’t realized what he said – it’s time. time for what?

wide, wet eyes, embarrassed and earnest all at once, meet bachira’s own – tender, loving, with that bit of mischief behind them. the eyes you love so much.

as always, he seems to read your mind, and his soft, fond smile turns to another shit-eating grin. his fingers don’t stop their pace when he speaks again, “ thought i’d ask him to join us. you’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? oh – " his words break off into a moan, his collected exterior cracking if only for a moment. the way you clench around him tells him everything he needs to know.

not like he’d just take that as an answer, though.

“ she likes that, huh? pretty pussy needs two cocks to be satisfied. i know, i know, s’okay – we just need to make sure that you want it. i need to make sure you want it. don’t needa use your words, you know that. be good for me, baby, like you always are. ”

you break, then – you gush around the fingers digging deep inside of you, your eyes blown wide, glazed over from his sweet talk. all embarrassment melts away, your brain mush. while your legs shake and your hips buck you nod, almost wildly, whining and crying around the intrusion in your mouth while bachira fucks you through it all. you do want isagi here, you want them both, you want – everything, really. your hand grips his arm so hard you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks, pulling him close in what you can only describe as an attempt to make him a part of you. your bachira.

“ fuck this. you’re an asshole, bachira. can’t believe you made me fucking watch. i’ll be there in ten. ”

you freeze, snapped out of subspace in an instant. you register a lot of things, then – how hard bachira is against your leg, cock thick and heavy and leaking; how that voice definitely belonged to isagi, irritated and gruff; and how bachira’s no longer grinning at you but at the laptop set up on his desk. the one you’d thought was off.

“ don’t be mad. ” again, bachira knows you, which is why he says it the second the call drops. you’re too embarrassed to speak, just looking at him dumbfounded and still fucked out from your previous orgasms, “ and don’t try to clean up. he’ll be sad if it’s not messy. ”

you shut your eyes to try and push away the humiliation. there’s a pause from your boyfriend, and while you can’t see him, you can feel him slinking down the bed, making himself comfortable between your thighs. you crack an eye open to see him looking up at you, almost pleading, “ think you can give me one more? pleaseeeee. he’s gonna hog you when he gets here! ”

you can’t do much else but nod, accepting your fate. it was what you wanted, after all.

#ffg kinktober #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #meguru bachira x reader

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street-smarts00 · 8 months ago

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Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

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

WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them.

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work.

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job.

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long.

And at some point you both reached your boiling point.

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats.

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family.

“I was working off of the profile . . .”

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected.

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts . . .”

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward.

“I didn’t say that!”

“It sure sounded like it.”

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights.

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room.

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up.

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured.

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good”

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it.

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases.

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life.

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them.

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door.

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in.

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down.

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood.

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair.

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair.

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable.

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer.

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that.

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked.

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves.

“Maybe for a bit.”

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him.

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort.

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.”

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in.

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.”

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.

“A bit what?”

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.”

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.”

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth.

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand.

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer.

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand.

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood.

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up.

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.”

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition."

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it.

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.”

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted.

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?”

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.”

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.”

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it.

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response.

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.”

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.”

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you."

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended.

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.”

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils.

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.”

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful.

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke.

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.”

“What would you like to know?” You asked.

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate.

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked.

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing.

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?”

“Purple.” He replied.

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus.

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious.

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew.

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.”

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out.

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?”

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say.

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.”

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.”

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him.

“Can I ask you a question this time?”

“Of course.”

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various building blocks that made him the way he was.

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.”

“Is he one of your favorite authors?”

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer.

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.”

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed.

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember.

“Which one did you like the most?”

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.”

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open.

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly.

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.”

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.”

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist.

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture.

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to.

“I will.”

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.”

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention.

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?”

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable.

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?”

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.”

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?”

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him.

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.”

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash."

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself.

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked.

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you.

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms.

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back.

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed.

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.”

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.”

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on.

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him.

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.”

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough.

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked.

“Oh shut up,” you retorted.

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile.

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him.

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased.

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you.

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness.

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry.

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.”

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?”

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior."

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively.

He couldn’t respond, he froze up.

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused.

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips.

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed.

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled.

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do.

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged.

"Really?" You whispered softly.

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder.

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me?

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read.

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.”

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?”

You glanced between his eyes and his lips.

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed.

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately.

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever.

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other.

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk.

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react.

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.” Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door.

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked.

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered.

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels.

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?”

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds headcanons #enemies to lovers

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enviedear · 1 month ago

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YOU DIDN'T SEE MY VALENTINE (I SENT IT VIA PANTOMIME)

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | Could I request Jason Todd being jealous of Dick and reader who is slightly older and he’s harboured a crush on since his Robin days? AND jason todd/reader + jealousy

CW | jealous!jason—nothing crazy, not canon compliant but this is my tl now, some 'will they, won't they', and lots of jason being weird with feelings. 1.2k words. 🎧ྀི

in all honesty, you knew richard grayson before you ever truly knew JASON TODD. he was just a pubescent sidekick the last time you'd seen him—masked in thinly veiled anonymity. both boistful and timid, he always brought a smile out of you—teen angst and all.

but then he died. your life continued, morphing into the blissfully misunderstood present of your early twenties. heroism sits on your backburner, choosing to slow down for a career. normalcy, in a sense. and even though you've more than officially retired from your masked identity, dick grayson still remains everpresent. he offers up unrelenting friendship with ease.

normalcy has faded in recent months. reanimation of a corpse has the tendency to do that. and despite being one of the last to learn of jason's return, you were one of the first for him to turn to, to seek out. his attitude, his spirit, his mere presence—have thrown your life into a complete tailspin.

he usually stops by unannounced, often bloodied and bruised. he's gruff and pointed. no longer timid, but apathetic. far different from the young boy you remember—that scrappy, defiant, and utterly resolved mini hero. back then, you’d barely had time to catch your breath between your own assignments to make any sense of the boy glaring up at you in challenge. always like he had something to prove. his vigor had amused you then, but you couldn’t have known the weight behind it—not then.

now, it feels unavoidable. he doesn't talk about it, but he doesn't have to. it's in the way he carries his shoulders, tense and unsure. the way his once deep blue eyes have recast to a murky blend of frosted jade. he's changed, and yet you're still the one he seeks out. the thought has replayed and plagued your mind for days on end.

the kid you'd known had become something else entirely. taller, broader, with a rigid fixation toward you that feels…alarmingly familiar and unknown all at once. most times, you can't place why—that is, until he reminds you.

“dick’s taking you out again?” his voice cuts through the casual quiet of your apartment, where you’d been getting ready. the sound is rough, almost indifferent.

glancing over your shoulder, you spot jason leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and jaw tight. you never heard him come in, but he hasn't startled you. no, you expected him. you refocus on what he has asked—his question, though simple, has an unmistakable bite to it. you don't let it affect you, not now, or anymore.

at first it was hard to come to terms with the aggravation and disdain riddled within him. it spewed out so easily. now though, you understand it. no part of you enjoys it, but you love him. much more than he can seem to realize—too fractured to see through your companionship. a role reversal of utter hell.

you hesitate, brushing off the strange weight of his stare. “yeah. just dinner. catching up. he's been at work so much recently...”

you see a flicker of something unclear cross jason’s face. it’s quick—but the tension sticks, thick and heavy in the room. it's an old grudge, somehow outliving death. you suppose it makes sense—he spent years begging to patrol with the two of you, just to be firmly told no. he always got so agitated, completely annoyed. it seems he's the same, old habits die hard.

he clears his throat, still glaring severely, “right. catching up.”

there’s that bite again, sharper this time. he’s trying to be casual, but it doesn’t land.

“is something wrong?” you ask, turning to face him fully now, eyebrows raised and tone nearly exasperated.

he shrugs, but his eyes don’t meet yours. they’re focused somewhere over your shoulder. “just seems like dick’s always around, that’s all.”

you blink, surprised. “we’ve been friends for years, jason. you know that.”

“yeah, i know.” his voice is lower now, quieter. “i just…i don’t get why you still hang out with him so much.”

that gets your attention. the tension, the clipped responses—it all clicks into place. you rise, studying him. “are you… jealous?”

the moment the word leaves your mouth, you watch his posture stiffen. his eyes finally meet yours, a mix of frustration and something softer, almost vulnerable, in them.

“no.” he mutters, but it’s not convincing.

“jason.” you sigh, shaking your head. “dick is just a friend.”

“yeah, i know. so why's he’s always taking you out?” he huffs, and there it is—the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface finally breaking through. “ever since i was a kid, he’s had your attention. i'm just...the other one.”

his words hang in the air, weighted with years of implicit beliefs. suddenly, you understand. this isn’t just about his brother. it’s about everything jason’s never said—the way he’d always felt second to someone else.

you take a step forward, close enough now that you can see the cracks in his bitter expression. and you notice the way he wants to pull back but doesn't—can’t.

“you have never been that to me, jason.” you say softly, your voice steady.

he scoffs, but there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “yeah? didn’t seem like it.”

“maybe not then, but things are different now.” you say, holding his gaze. “you’re different. we’re different. everything, is different.”

for a moment, jason doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out if he should believe you.

“doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” he mutters, quieter now. the tension shifts, softening slightly, though, his guard remains.

you take one last step, close enough that you can reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “jason.” you say, and his name comes out softer than you mean it to. “you have my attention now. not as a kid. not as robin. as you.”

there’s a pause, a beat of silence before he finally drops his eyes. when he looks back at you, there’s a flicker of longing in them, a look almost too vulnerable for the man he's returned as.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.

you nod, and this time, you close the distance. your hands gently tether to his crossed arms, “yeah, i’m sure.”

his muscles tense under your touch—but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his eyes fall to where your hands rest against him, something flickering there. you squeeze his arms lightly, attempting to ground him.

“jason,” you say softly, “i don’t see you the way you think i do. i never have.”

he lets out a rough breath, like he’s been holding it for ages. his gaze is still cast downward, jaw clenched. you wait, patient, giving him the space to find his words.

“i don’t know how to be around you anymore.” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i want to be around you, like how dick is. i just...came back wrong.”

the confession rings in your head. you almost feel the weight of it, pressing against the edges of your chest, and your heart aches for him. for the boy he was, the man he’s become, and the space in between where he feels like he’s lost himself.

“you didn’t come back wrong.” you whisper, stepping even closer.

his head tilts slightly, as if he’s processing your words, trying to let them sink in past years of self-doubt.

his hands uncross slowly, falling to his sides, but he doesn’t pull away from you. instead, his right hand reaches up, hesitant at first, before he gently cups the side of your face. fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“you sure about that?” he asks again, but this time there’s no malice. less unease.

you nod, your hand coming up to cover his, your voice steady. “yeah. i’m sure, jason.”

almost timidly, he speaks again, "can you just... just tonight, stay here."

you study him as you answer, "why?"

he sighs, eyes flicking to a wall, "grayson's had years to spend with you, i haven't. c'mon, let me take you out instead." he shrugs, looking at you now, "call it making up for lost time."

you can't fight the tug in your chest, and you nod—relenting, "fine." you offer him a small smile, "where are we going?"

you don't catch what he suggests, nodding along. you're too hyperaware of the dimpled smile on his face now. two perfect reminiscent pictures of the sweet kids you used to be. only, this time you're choosing him—and you plan to continue to.

#dc jason todd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd thoughts #jason todd imagine #redhood x reader #redhood

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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𝟷.𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When James stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date, unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst with a happy ending, Reader overthinking

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x fem!reader

♡ ꜱᴏɴɢ: You are in love (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

The day you asked James out had been one of those moments where your heart felt like it might jump right out of your chest. You were prepared for rejection, especially since you'd spent years by his side, watching him pine after Lily. But recently… something had shifted. He wasn’t staring at her in class anymore, his jokes about her had ceased, and most of all, he was spending more time with you—closer, warmer. Maybe you were imagining things, but you couldn’t shake the thought that he might finally be over her.

So, you'd asked him out. With shaking hands and a half-terrified smile, you’d blurted out an offer for dinner. And to your utter shock, James had blinked, cheeks flushing a light pink, and mumbled, “Uh… okay, yeah, I’d love that.”

And now, here you were, sitting across from him at a small booth in The Three Broomsticks, tapping your fingers nervously against the wooden table. James was quiet. Too quiet.

You shifted in your seat, trying to make conversation. “So, um… have you finished that Transfiguration essay McGonagall assigned?” It was a safe topic, schoolwork—something you two could always talk about. But his response was short.

“Yeah. Finished it last night.”

“Oh. Cool,” you replied, your voice trailing off.

You tapped your fingers again. James Potter never stopped talking. Silence wasn’t his thing. Which meant that he was uncomfortable. Which meant that this was a disaster. A pit formed in your stomach as you tried again.

“What about Quidditch? You excited for the next match?”

“Yeah, should be fun,” he answered, eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away. He was fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he occasionally glanced outside as if he wanted to escape.

Panic bloomed in your chest. He didn’t want to be here. You were terrible. He didn’t like you back. He was probably still hung up on Lily, and he was just too nice to say no.

“I—um—James…” Your voice cracked as you reached for your purse, fingers trembling. You stood up abruptly, trying to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of your eyes. “You know what? It’s fine. You didn’t have to agree to this out of pity. I get it. I mean, I know you’re still… still hung up on Lily, and I probably just made this really weird, and—”

“Wait, what?” James shot up from his seat, nearly knocking over his butterbeer in the process. His eyes were wide, panicked. “No, no, no, wait, you’ve got it all wrong!”

But you were already rambling, words spilling out in a jumble as you tried to explain how you understood, how he didn’t have to pretend. “It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything. I know you’re probably—”

“Stop! Please, just—just sit down for a second, okay?” James’s voice was more urgent now, his hands reaching out as if to physically stop you from leaving.

You hesitated, your heart racing, before you reluctantly sat back down. “James, it’s okay, really, I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, softer. His hazel eyes were full of something—something raw and nervous and real. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not… I’m not hung up on Lily.”

Your heart stumbled at his words. “What?”

“I don’t like Lily anymore,” James said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “I mean, I did for a long time, but that’s… that’s not where my head is now. I like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and confusing. “You… like me?”

He nodded, his cheeks turning pink again as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah. And that’s why I’ve been so nervous. I don’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to mess this up, and now I’ve gone and made you think I don’t want to be here, which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

You stared at him, processing his confession. “You’re… nervous?”

James let out a huff of laughter, looking a little self-deprecating. “Yeah. I’m never nervous. Except… except with you. Because this actually matters to me. You matter to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the earlier hurt and insecurity slowly melting away as his words sank in. He was nervous because he liked you. Not because he didn’t want to be here.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a bit ridiculous for jumping to conclusions. “I thought you were… you know, regretting this.”

James shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I just… don’t really know how to do this, apparently.”

A small laugh escaped your lips despite the lingering tears. “You’re usually so smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you make me lose all my smoothness,” he said, a lopsided grin finally breaking across his face, though it was still tinged with nervousness.

You felt your shoulders relax for the first time that evening. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, James. We’ve been best friends for years.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with a softness that made your heart ache in the best way. “But this is different.”

It was different. And maybe that was okay.

“Maybe this whole diner thing isn’t for us,” James suggested after a beat of silence. “Too fancy, don’t you think?”

You chuckled, the sound a little watery. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. I talk better when I’m moving.”

You smiled, taking his hand, and let him pull you up. As you walked out of the diner and into the cool night air, the tension between you melted away. James started talking—about everything and nothing, rambling on like his usual self. And with each word, you felt the warmth between you grow, the awkwardness fading into something much more familiar, much more comforting.

And as you walked side by side, listening to James fill the quiet with his endless chatter, you couldn’t help but smile. This was what you’d always wanted. Him, you, and all the things that came with it.

#james fleamont potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter angst #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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girlrotterr · 2 months ago

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Oath.

knight!abby x fem!reader x assasin!ellie summary: In a kingdom on the brink of new leadership, tensions run high as a coronation draws near. a/n: my apologies if this is all over the place! (wrote this while sleep-deprived..)

The grand hall of the palace was draped in regal tapestries, each one heavy with stories of past rulers, their deep, rich colors glowing under the soft light of chandeliers that hung like constellations above. The crystal fixtures sparkled like stars, casting delicate rays that danced along the polished marble floors. The fragrance of fresh roses filled the room, mingling with the sharp scent of recently cleaned stone, yet you barely noticed the elegance, your thoughts too distant to care.

You stood before the large, arched window, the panes of glass cool against your fingertips. Outside, the sun sank slowly, painting the kingdom in golden light that blended into the soft hues of amber and rose. The sky, streaked with the dying colors of the day, was beautiful—achingly so—but it felt distant. Just like everything else.

Your face remained impassive, cold, as you gazed across the horizon. Today was the day of your coronation, the day you would become queen. Yet the weight of the moment, its significance, felt strangely hollow. The echoes of excitement from the kingdom beyond the palace walls barely reached you. The crowd outside, buzzing with anticipation, their voices and footfalls merging into a dull roar, seemed as distant as the horizon itself. You were aware of the world outside, but none of it felt real.

Two maids worked around you in practiced silence, their hands quick, delicate, and efficient. One was at your side, fastening gold earrings into place, each one set with gemstones that glinted under the light. Her movements were precise, careful, though you barely registered the cool metal brushing your skin. The other maid stood behind, her fingers weaving through your hair, creating an intricate design worthy of the crown that would soon rest upon your head. They were skillful, and yet, their presence barely existed in your mind, your thoughts far beyond this room, slipping through the palace corridors like a shadow.

The maid by your side fumbled slightly as she fastened the last earring, her fingers trembling as they touched your neck. You didn’t flinch. You barely blinked. But you could sense her nervousness, feel the tension rolling off her in waves. Perhaps it was the gravity of the day, the immense pressure of serving the soon-to-be queen.

Behind you, standing just inside the doorway, was Abby Anderson—your most trusted knight, your oldest friend. Her armor gleamed in the chandelier’s soft light, the metal polished to a mirror-like shine, each plate a testament to her dedication and discipline. But Abby wasn’t watching the door or the crowd beyond the palace gates. Her focus was solely on you. It always was.

She had been by your side since childhood, her loyalty as unwavering as the steel she carried. You both had shared so much—moments of joy, of sorrow, of quiet understanding. But today, her presence felt heavier, her gaze more intense. There was something in the air between you both, something unsaid, as if she could sense the quiet storm brewing within you, the unease you hadn’t spoken aloud.

Abby’s eyes traced your face, searching for something, though you gave nothing away. The years had made her keen; she could read you like no one else could, and yet, today, there was a barrier even she could not penetrate. You were a queen in waiting, but in that moment, you felt more like a pawn—moved by forces unseen, drawn into a game far beyond your control.

At last, the maids completed their work, their fingers delicately smoothing the final strands of your hair into perfect alignment. They moved with practiced grace, their hands lingering for just a moment before they stepped back, retreating as if fearful that any further motion might shatter the silence that had settled over the room. The soft rustle of their skirts was barely audible, and their presence faded into the background entirely.

Abby’s presence lingered behind you, ever watchful. You could feel her gaze, piercing through the room’s stillness. Her armored boots softly scuffed the marble floor as she shifted, the slight sound making your spine stiffen, though you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re prepared for this.” Abby said at last, her voice cutting through the quiet with a firm conviction. It was not a question; there was no room for doubt in her words. It was a truth—her truth—a decision she had already made for you. It wasn’t just encouragement; it was certainty.

For a moment, you remained silent, letting her words hang in the air like a blade unsheathed. Your fingers idly traced the cool glass of the window, the faint lines fogging slightly under your touch. The smooth, cold texture grounded you in the present, a fleeting comfort against the storm inside your mind.

“Do you remember how angry the servants would get at us?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking through your own silence, but softer than you expected. The memory flashed in your mind, stark against the dread of the present.

Abby looked at you, her eyes flickering with a hint of warmth as she recognized the moment you were recalling.

“We’d sneak into the kitchens,” you continued, “stealing bread, fruits—whatever we could grab. And we’d feed it to the stray animals outside the castle walls.”

Abby smiled faintly, just for a moment, her features softening in the memory. “They’d scold us for it,” she replied, her voice softer now, a distant echo of your childhood, “trying to hide the food on higher shelves or locking it away in pantries. But somehow, we always managed to find something.”

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you turned slightly, your gaze still distant, but now filled with the shadow of nostalgia. “And now those same servants quiver in my presence.” The words left your mouth like a quiet, bitter confession, their truth sinking deeper than you’d intended. “They bow when they see me. They fear me, Abby.”

The weight of your own words settled between you both, the warmth of the past quickly vanishing, replaced by the icy reality of the present.

Abby’s hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, her thumb brushing its pommel in a gesture that was as much instinct as it was protection. “They respect you,” she said quietly, her voice steady, though there was something deeper there, something unsaid. “They may tremble, but they will follow you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flicked back to her, meeting her gaze. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke.

Abby, your oldest friend, had always been there, her unwavering loyalty a constant in your life. Yet today, that loyalty felt like a shield you might need more than ever.

The chill in your chest only deepened. This wasn’t about respect or loyalty—it was about survival, about strength in a world where softness was weakness. You knew the truth Abby didn’t speak. Your reign would demand coldness. It would demand sacrifice.

The crown, though it had yet to rest upon your head, already cast a heavy shadow over your soul. Its weight had not yet made contact with your brow, but you could already feel its burden pressing deeply into your very essence, seeping into your bones and shaping your thoughts.

───────

Ellie sat in the cool shadows beneath the canopy of trees, her back pressed against the rough bark, the familiar weight of her knife resting comfortably in her hand. With slow, deliberate movements, she ran the blade along the surface of an apple, peeling it in thin, spiraling ribbons. The soft scrape of metal against fruit was steady, almost meditative, and each curl of skin fell to the forest floor in a neat pile. Jesse and Dina stood a few feet away, their voices a low murmur as they discussed the crowd. Ellie didn’t bother listening. Their words were just a distant hum, like the wind rustling through the leaves above.

In the clearing beyond, the crowd surged and swayed, a restless sea of bodies gathered at the palace gates. From their hidden vantage point, Ellie could see the mass of people stretching far beyond what any of them had anticipated. The coronation had drawn the entire kingdom, it seemed, and the air was thick with the buzz of excitement, the occasional roar of cheers rising up like waves crashing against rocks. The sunlight flickered through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the forest floor, but Ellie’s focus remained on the apple in her hands, her knife carving each slice with practiced precision.

“They’re packed in there tight,” Jesse muttered, his brow furrowed as he leaned against a low-hanging branch. His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the sheer number of people. “Getting close to the princess won’t be easy. Not with this many eyes on her.”

Dina sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the bustling mass. “This is insane. Look at them. How are we supposed to get anywhere near her with this many people watching? We’d be lucky if we even make it to the gates without being noticed.”

Ellie didn’t respond. The blade continued its slow dance along the apple’s flesh, peeling away another thin ribbon. She could feel Dina’s frustration simmering, could sense her impatience like a crackling fire, but she wasn’t interested in engaging.

Dina’s patience snapped, her gaze shifting to Ellie with evident irritation. “And you,” she snapped, “you don’t even seem to care. You’ve been quiet the whole time. Don’t you have anything to contribute?”

Ellie’s hand paused mid-motion, her fingers tightening slightly around the knife handle. She looked up slowly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “If you’ve got something to say, Dina, just say it. Or maybe you should focus on the task at hand instead of whining.”

Dina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Whining? You’ve been sitting here like this doesn’t matter. Do you even know what’s at stake? Or are you too busy with your little apple to care?”

Ellie rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and controlled. The knife still glinted in her hand, the apple now stripped of its skin. She fixed Dina with a steady gaze. “I know exactly what’s at stake. You think I got this job because by some mistake?”

Before Dina could say anything, Jesse stepped between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Alright, enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “Both of you, just stop. This isn’t the time for bickering.”

Dina huffed, her gaze still directed at Ellie but with less venom. Jesse turned to Ellie, his expression softening slightly. “Ellie’s here because Maria trusts her. She’s new to the group, sure, but she’s not new to the work.”

Ellie observed Dina’s expression shift from anger to reluctant acceptance, the tension still hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Jesse’s voice took on a firmer tone. “ If we’re going to make this plan work, we need to support eachother, stick to the plan, and cut out these pointless arguments. Got it?”

Dina didn’t immediately respond, but the rigid set of her shoulders softened slightly. She gave a grudging nod, still clearly annoyed but willing to cooperate. Jesse turned back to Ellie, offering her a brief, understanding glance

Ellie nodded in return, her eyes scanning the crowd, “There’s no way we pull this off in front of all these people. There’s no clean escape, no cover. We’d be exposed, and the guards would have us before we even got within striking distance.”

“So what? We just give up?” Dina said, “Go back to Maria and tell her we couldn’t handle it?”

Ellie shook her head, the faint smirk returning to her lips. “No, Dina. We don’t give up. We adapt. We do this the right way. We go in slow.”

“Slow?” Dina scoffed. “We don’t have time for slow.”

“We make time,” Ellie countered, stepping closer. Her voice dropped, cold and deliberate. “If we want this to work, we have to get inside. We need to learn everything—the layout of the town, the routines of the guards, how the people move, how they think. We slip into their lives like shadows. We blend in, become part of the scenery, and when the time’s right, we make our move.”

Dina shook her head, her arms still crossed defensively. “And how long is this supposed to take? A week? A month? We don’t have that kind of time.”

Ellie’s gaze flickered back to the palace, the sun casting long shadows across the stone walls. “As long as it takes,” she said quietly. “You’ve done this longer than I have, Dina, but you know this isn’t a regular kill. This is the queen-to-be. We don’t get a second shot at this. We do it right, or we don’t do it at all.”

Jesse finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “She’s got a point, Dina. If we rush this, we’re asking for trouble. We need to know what we’re dealing with before we act.”

Dina’s frustration was clear, but after a long moment of silence, she exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping in reluctant acceptance. “Fine. We do it your way. But if this goes sideways, Ellie, it’s on you.”

Ellie nodded, her expression unreadable. “It won’t.”

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting an amber glow over the town as the crowd continued to swell. The distant cheers grew louder, the anticipation in the air thickening as the coronation ceremony drew closer. Ellie watched the scene unfold, her mind already working, planning, calculating each move.

They would become part of this place—unseen, unnoticed—until the moment was right. And when it was, they would strike from the shadows, swift and lethal.

There was no room for mistakes.

───────

You jolted awake, your lungs burning as if they were being scorched from the inside. Coughs wracked your body, each spasm sending searing pain through your chest. Blinking rapidly to clear the haze from your vision, you realized the room was shrouded in thick, acrid smoke. The dim light that filtered through the dense fog was ghostly and indistinct, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

With your heart racing, you struggled to sit up, your movements slow and unsteady. The smoke clung to your skin, making it difficult to breathe, and you could feel your head growing light as if it were floating away from your body. Your eyes watered uncontrollably, and the oppressive weight of the smoke made every breath a laborious effort.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you staggered out of bed, your legs weak and uncooperative. The smoke seemed to thicken the longer you stayed in the room, and the oppressive heat made the air feel almost molten. You stumbled towards the door, each step a monumental task as you tried to shield your face with the crook of your arm, hoping to avoid inhaling more of the choking smoke.

You emerged from your bedroom, the palace engulfed in chaos. The once-grand hallways were now a nightmarish landscape of flickering flames and billowing smoke. The once-polished marble floors were now slick with soot, and the ornate tapestries that once adorned the walls were reduced to smoldering husks. The flames crackled hungrily, consuming everything in their path with an insatiable fury.

You pushed through the haze, your eyes watering, your throat raw from coughing. Your mind raced as you made your way towards your parents' quarters, the thought of them being trapped in the inferno spurring you on. The corridor twisted and turned, and the smoke grew denser, each breath feeling like it might be your last.

You reached their door, but your heart sank as you saw the chains wrapped around it. The metal glinted ominously in the firelight, each lock fastened tightly as if mocking your desperation. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you grasped at the chains, yanking and pulling with all the force you could muster. The locks resisted stubbornly, their mechanisms cold and unyielding against your frantic efforts.

The smoke was getting thicker, searing your lungs with every inhale, and your vision was beginning to narrow as you struggled to stay conscious. You coughed violently, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space, but you didn’t stop. Your fingers clawed at the chains, your voice a ragged plea as you strained against the cold metal.

“Help! Somebody—please!” Your voice was a mere whisper against the roar of the flames, barely carrying over the din of the burning palace. The locks seemed to mock you, their resistance only heightening your sense of helplessness.

Just as the smoke began to envelop you completely, your vision dimming to a suffocating blur, a figure appeared through the haze. Abby, her armor glinting in the flickering light, burst into view. Her expression was a mix of determination and fear as she dashed towards you, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Come on, we have to get out!” Abby shouted over the roar of the flames, her voice cutting through the smoke like a lifeline.

Before you could react, Abby grabbed you by the arm with a grip that was both firm and unyielding. The intensity in her eyes brooked no argument. She began dragging you towards the corridor, her strength propelling you forward even as you struggled against her.

“No!” you yelled, your voice cracking from the strain. “My parents—please, Abby! They’re still in there! You have to save them!”

Your protests were met with a resolute silence as Abby continued to pull you away from the door. Her pace was relentless, driven by a single-minded focus on getting you to safety. You flailed against her, trying to wrench free, your fists landing weakly against her armor.

“Let me go!” you cried out, hitting her with all the strength you could muster, but Abby remained unmoved. Her face was set in a grim line, her eyes fixed ahead as she navigated the treacherous path through the burning palace.

“I can’t!” Abby shouted back, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. “We’re not safe here!”

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly as Abby dragged you away, each step pulling you farther from the locked door and your parents. The smoke thickened, wrapping around you like a choking shroud, and the heat became unbearable. You could see the door now, its chains glinting through the smoke, but it was growing smaller and smaller with each passing second.

“Abby, stop!” you pleaded, your voice a strained whisper. “We need to go back!”

Abby’s grip tightened, her determination unwavering. “It’s too late,” she said firmly. “The fire’s spreading too fast!”

You could feel the heat intensify as the flames roared closer, the walls of the palace crumbling around you. The inferno’s glow painted the walls in flickering hues of orange and red, and the once-familiar corridors were now a labyrinth of destruction.

Your parents’ door was now a distant memory, the vision of it being consumed by the flames etched in your mind. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the sweat and smoke as Abby continued to pull you away, her determination a beacon in the chaos.

“Don’t—don’t leave them!” you sobbed, your strength waning as the fire grew fiercer. Your struggles became weaker, your body exhausted by the smoke and the frantic escape.

───────

“We must go now, Your Majesty.” A maid’s voice echoed through the room. She stood at the doorway, her head peeking in cautiously as if unsure whether to intrude on the final moments of your preparation. Her uniform was impeccably crisp, and her eyes darted nervously between you and the room, her posture stiff and formal.

You blinked, the trance you had been in dissolving as you scanned the room with renewed focus. The reflection in the mirror caught your eye. For a moment, the reflection seemed almost foreign, a ghostly echo of the queen you were about to become.

You turned to face Abby, who stood steadfast near the door. Her presence was as constant and reassuring as ever, her armor gleaming softly in the dim light. She hadn’t moved an inch from her post, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that was both protective and unwavering. It was as if she was willing to stand there for an eternity if it meant ensuring your safety and success.

You met her eyes, holding the gaze with a mixture of determination and an unspoken bond that had been forged over years of friendship and loyalty. The moment stretched, silent and weighty, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

With a final, lingering look at the mirror, you straightened your posture and adjusted the layers of your gown, the fabric rustling softly with the movement. The intricate embroidery glinted in the light, the gold threads catching the soft glow and accentuating the grandeur of the ensemble. You took a deep breath, gathering the last of your composure.

“Shall we go?” you asked Abby, your voice steady but carrying a hint of the gravity of the occasion.

Abby’s expression softened, though her stance remained resolute. She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting both pride and a hint of anxiety. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said softly, her voice carrying the unspoken promise of her protection.

The maid stepped aside, allowing you and Abby to pass. As you walked towards the door, the echo of your footsteps seemed louder than usual, the soft click of your heels against the marble floor punctuating the stillness of the room. The grand hall awaited, filled with the thrumming anticipation of the crowd, the culmination of everything you had worked towards.

You took one last deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown and the enormity of your impending role settle over you. With a final, resolute glance back at the room—the sanctuary you were leaving behind—you stepped through the door and into the corridor beyond. The sounds of the cheering crowd and the distant murmur of the kingdom’s voices grew louder as you approached the grand hall, each step bringing you closer to your fate.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby fanfiction #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson au #ellie williams au

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silencesscreams · 11 months ago

Note

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sat at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your dessert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to, i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

#james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #mrsaluado #lila writes #silencesscreams

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boysmentfs · 3 months ago

Text

My new boyfriend.

Tommy was Olivia's bff, he was always there for her above all things, they considered themselves almost "sisters" since tommy was not a guy like the others, he was a Twink, brown hair, youthful face, 20 years old, very thin, just like a noodle and clearly homosexual.

Olivia was the typical dumb blonde girl, tall, busty, the same age as tommy and popular but despite all this she always had things going wrong in love, she had recently met a fraternity guy named "Jake" But as expected, their relationship didn't last long and they had broken up a few hours ago, so she sent Tommy a message, so he could comfort her like he always does.

"Sis... I have ended my relationship with Jake, I am devastated... He was the most handsome guy in the world, I can't believe it"

"bestie, why do your relationships always take so little time? I mean, you've dated really hot guys... Hehe, I don't understand why they break up with you, you're beautiful, sis"

"I don't know, Tommy.... I would love to have a boyfriend who actually loves me for a long time, who protects me, listens to me and all that stuff, like you do."

"It's a shame I like guys, bff, because if I didn't, you know I'd be with you, but don't worry, you'll get a nice handsome guy with an attitude like mine!"

"I hope it doesn't take too long for that guy to come into my life, hey baddie, thanks for listening to me <3, now I have to go to sleep, sweet dreams! xoxo"

After that last message, olivia went straight to her computer and looked for something on the black market that could help her with her plan, and that's how he found a pair of red shorts, a chain and some earrings, In the description it said that with those things the guy who will use them would become the most handsome and loving guy in the world, so olivia did not hesitate twice and clicked to buy it.

The next day, the package arrived at her house, but I didn't want it to be so obvious, so I took the things out of the box where they were and handed them another one with a wrapper full of teddy bears and hearts, olivia knew that Tommy, seeing this, would not hesitate to open it, so once she closed the box, she sent it to Tommy's house.

A few minutes had passed since Olivia had sent the box to Tommy's house, When the package arrived someone knocked on the door and left, Tommy went directly to the door and opened it, curious to see the package he picked it up from the floor and began to open it, Tommy, seeing what was inside the box, was surprised. He never ordered clothes online, maybe they went to the wrong house, so he closed the box again, waiting for the real owner to claim it.

Once he left the box on the table, he went straight to the shower, when he finished his shower he grabbed his shirt but something was missing... And that was his special pink shorts, he remembered that he had lent them to his best friend so he thought of a solution, so he remembered that in the package they had sent him there were some red shorts so he went for them, once he used them, he would wash them so that the real owner would not suspect.

He grabbed the red shorts and put them on, It was a beautiful warm and sunny day so he decided to watch some TV, while watching TV he started to feel strange and a little hot, Something in his mind told him no try on what was in the box, the chain and the earrings, so he went for them and put them on, once je had them on he went to a mirror and saw himself, he laughed because he looked like one of her friend's boyfriends, but thin and without any muscle. After he saw herself in the mirror, he returned to the couch to continue watching TV.

And without realizing it, his foot began to enlarge as it became fleshier, his toes lengthened as veins sprouted and some hair grew on them, now he had feet of size 15, large masculine, all their delicacy was gone, now they looked like the feet of an jock.

His legs began to hurt, because they began to thicken and muscle began to come out, now his thighs were big while his calves were worthy of a real man, some hair began to grow on them.

The next thing to change was his butt and his bag, His big butt began to shrink to a decent size worthy of an jock, it was big but not as big as before although it was defined a little more, her pouch, which she was proud of since it was small and delicate, began to grow to a size 15 and also thickened while pubic hair came out, it seemed that she never shaved, but that made him look more masculine.

His designer thong also began to undergo changes, it went from being a red thong to becoming blue designer boxers so that his manhood would be highlighted even more along with his toned butt.

His stomach, which was thin, began to hurt as abdominal after abdominal came out in Tommy's stomach, a v began to be marked on the lateral sides while he gained a beautiful pack of 8 very worked abs, his chest began to expand outwards as two large defined pecs bulged out, a tattoo began to appear on a pectoral, his torso began to lengthen as he became more masculine, his back also underwent changes, it went from being feminine and thin, to being masculine and wide, muscle also appeared there, giving him a very manly back and worthy of admiration.

hiss shirt began to tear due to his large muscles, that was where Tommy reacted and was surprised and ran towards the mirror.

"Omg! What happened to me? I am dreaming? "This must be a dream, yes... I must wake up."

But before Tommy slapped himself, his arms began to hurt as they began to stretch and muscle began to come out, his biceps were now the size of a ball, his triceps were well worked, his delicate hands began to thicken while his fingers lengthened can and they started to look calloused due to all the exercise he did at the gym, wait... Exercise? Gym? He didn't exerc- but before Tommy reacted, two tattoos began to appear on his two muscular arms and another tattoo on one of his biceps.

Tommy couldn't anymore, he was about to cry, so he got the idea to call Olivia, but before he could do that, his face started to hurt.

Tommy's face, which was young, delicate and feminine, began to change as his jaw became marked, giving him a more manly appearance, His lips that were too full from being an expert cocksucker became thinner but still looked kissable, his nose became big and cuter, his eyes that were green began to turn brown, his beautiful blonde hair began to recede as it began to turn black, at the end, his hair ended up with a cut that any jock could have, his face had become the most beautiful, any girl who saw him would die to be with him, Tommy looked in the mirror again, looking at his new appearance, he became somewhat horny, without a doubt his new appearance was his ideal type, all the blood flowed into his bag giving him an obvious erection.

Tommy put his hand in his bag and started moving his hand up and down. He started to think about how many cute guys he could fuck... But as he thought about guys his erection faded, His mind began to give him new memories as a new alpha aura took over him. He began to imagine himself fucking girls with big butts and tits. His erection returned, but Tommy knew this wasn't right... He was... Homo... Homosexual?, NO, he was straight and loved raising beautiful girls with his bag, As he continued to raise and lower his hand he couldn't hold back anymore and he came and with that all his memories, personality and Tommy faded away.

"Seriously, Olivia is lucky to have me as a boyfriend, I mean, who wouldn't want someone like me?" Max said to himself as he flexed one of his arms in the mirror.

Tommy was now Max, Olivia's boyfriend, quarterback of the football team, leader of his fraternity, he loved parties, alcohol, exercising and having fun, max hated homosexuals, he said they could never be real men like him and his "bros."

After pulling up his pants he received a message from his girlfriend Olivia, Olivia knew that Tommy at this point had ceased to exist so she wanted to test out her new boyfriend.

"Hi love! I miss you... I would like to have you here with me, I want you to make me yours... come to my house <3"

"Well, today I'm free princess, to hell with today's training, I prefer to be with my beautiful girl, so you don't miss me so much while i arrived at your house, I'll send you a photo of me, princess ;)"

Olivia was happy with her new boyfriend, he was affectionate and listened to her all day, just like she wanted.

#gay to straight #male tf #personality change #reality change #jock tf #male transformation #frat bro #twink to jock #frat boy tf

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moonlightspencie · 1 year ago

Text

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

#i haven’t written a spn fic in years this felt good #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #delicate #reputation #taylor swift #gender neutral reader #luna’s dean fics

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bbydoll18xx · 4 months ago

Text

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Paige Bueckers x reader

KK tries to set you up on live, and things between you and Paige go south.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: angst, maybe some fluff?

This is heavily inspired by my love life, so yes, please feel free to feel bad for me thanks xoxo

“And oh, my god, he was so fucking stupid,” you exclaim exasperatedly, your longwinded rant having no ending in sight. “Like you’re literally in college and you can’t even hold a basic conversation? And don’t even get me started on his fucking mustache,” you add, gagging dramatically for good measure.

Hands were flying in the air as you spoke, and the girls of UCONN’s women’s basketball team listened amusedly as you complained about your latest failure of a date. You had promised yourself you’d get back out into the dating world after your two year relationship with your high school sweetheart had ended, but that was nearly three years ago. And now that you had gone through every stage of grief and were now (mostly) mentally stable again, you had begun dating to find ‘the one.’

However ‘the one’ seemed to be hiding among the frat boys and useless idiots you had been spending your friday and saturday nights with for the last six months. And you were quickly growing tired of their bullshit.

“And then,” you dragged out the word theatrically, leaning forward to the group of girls listening, “he told me he wanted to do a line of cocaine off my ass! Like who even says that?”

The girls erupt in a fit of giggles and gasps, disturbed by your most recent date.

You shake your head in mild embarrassment and place your head in your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you sigh, trying to avoid Paige’s stare.

She was always staring, as if she could tell what you were thinking. And to be honest, it freaked you out because if she actually knew what you were thinking, you’d be in some deep shit.

You had feelings for Paige from the first day you had met her, and the battle was certainly an uphill one at that. A little voice in your head whispered mockingly that the reason you had been going on all these dates was to distract yourself from the harsh reality that Paige was just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

And it really fucking stung.

KK cuts through the silence, placing a soothing hand on your back. “I know what to do,” she says with a knowing smile. You meet her smirk with a confused look, wondering what the younger girl had in mind. “Let’s go on live and find you a boo!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

The other girls erupt in laughter at the idea, nodding their heads in agreement. The only one who is uncharacteristically quiet is Paige, who has a funny look on her face. Her nose scrunches slightly, and because you had spent years memorizing every part of Paige, including her moods and facial expressions, you would almost say she looked pissed.

Glancing back over to KK, you let out another long sigh, throwing your hands in the air defeatedly. “Sure, why the hell not?”

She whoops excitedly, grabbing her phone and propping it up on the table in front of where the two of you were sitting. She clicks on the live, and it was not long before hundreds of people were flooding in with comments.

“Hey, y’all!” KK greets the fans with a small wave and a huge grin. You try to hold back a grin of your own, but her excitement was infectious, and you felt grateful that your friends cared about fixing your sham of a love life.

“We’ve got a special guest tonight,” KK explains, and you wave shyly at the camera. You typically did not love all the attention, and you tended to stay in the background when the other girls would go live.

“Okay, so boom, we are looking for a date for my girl over here,” KK begins, explaining the situation to the people on the live. “Serious inquiries only!” She adds, wagging a finger towards the camera. “She is precious, and some of y’all are straight up freaks.”

You giggle at her words, trying to read the comments. Many of them we’re trying to gauge your sexuality, and upon reading another ‘is she gay’ comment, you decide to clarify.

“I’m bisexual,” you murmur shyly. It had been nearly 6 years since you had realized you like girls, yet you still struggled with enunciating the fact.

“Oh girl, they love you,” KK sings, patting herself on the back for her idea. “How about if y’all have some talent, join the live and woo my girl.”

Paige has since moved from her chair opposite you to sit next to you on the couch. Her leg is pressed up against yours, the warmth of her body radiating onto yours, and you bite your lip.

“Yeah, yeah Paige is here. This ain’t about blondie today,” KK scolds the fans. “Now I want to see some good talent.”

You turn your head to look at Paige, and she rolls her eyes at KK. “KK, don’t be mean to them,” she laughs, waving to the live.

In your head you’re thinking that you honestly can’t even blame the fans. Paige was hot. You wanted to see her too.

KK lets in the first girl, who upon seeing Paige, shrieks and throws her phone onto the carpet of her bedroom. You laugh, and KK lets out a huff of annoyance, deleting her immediately and moves on to find another person.

“This one seems promising,” she mutters, and you play with a piece of hair nervously. Being in front of the camera felt ridiculous, and you wonder how you got yourself into this situation. You are quickly pulled out of your thoughts by another young girl, desperately trying to serenade you and the other girls with a song. You try your best to avoid cringing, but the performance left you with bad secondhand embarrassment.

A whole twenty minutes pass before someone promising pops up on the screen. A girl about your age with long dark hair and piercing green eyes is waving flirtatiously at the screen, causing you to sit up a little straighter. Next to you, Paige stiffens, and your eyes flit to her on KK’s phone, jaw clenched in a way that has your stomach rolling. You look down and notice her hand was closed in a fist, the other picking at a piece of lint on the couch.

You avert your eyes back to the girl who was still smiling widely, and you make casual smalltalk with her, feeling warm from the attention of a pretty girl.

Comments are flooding in, and while you’re glad to see that many of them are about what a cute couple you and the mystery girl would make, you also notice an influx in comments regarding how mad Paige looked.

Before you could look over to check on her, she was flying off the couch and stomping out of the room. You hear her door close loudly, and you meet KK’s eye with a confused look. Paige’s departure has the fans going wild, and you whisper to the younger girl that she should end the live.

“Okay, y’all, we gotta go. Feel free to DM her, though,” KK tells the dark-haired girl with a devilish grin, and she signs off quickly.

“What the fuck was all that about?” you ask no one in particular, eliciting shrugs from Aubrey, Ice, and Jana.

“She’s been moody all day,” Aubrey says casually, and you pout, thinking about your best friend who was clearly unhappy about something.

“I’ll go check on her,” you mutter, heading towards the closed door of Paige’s bedroom. Standing in front of it, you take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” you hear her mutter, and you enter the dark room, the only light shining from the tv and reflecting off the glassiness of Paige’s eyes.

You sit on her bed next to her, placing a comforting hand on her thigh. “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, not wanting to spook her. She rarely opened up about the way she was feeling, and you did not want to rush her into admitting anything if she wasn’t ready.

She shrugs, quickly wiping at her eyes, and your heart nearly crumbles at the sight. You rub soothing circles onto her leg and reach up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. The intimacy of it all is almost overwhelming, and you bite your bottom lip to keep in the feelings bubbling inside of you, threatening to expose everything.

“Just tired,” Paige mumbles, and you peek at her face, studying the beauty of her features.

Your phone lights up in your hand, alerting you to a DM you had just received from the girl from the live, and you attempt to hold back a wide smile at her boldness. Paige looks down at your screen as you text the girl, Scarlett, back with a giddy expression.

“I’m going to go to bed,” she says coldly, already moving to get under the covers.

“Want me to stay?” You ask hopefully, trying to sound casual. Sleepovers between the two of you had become a cherished ritual, and you needed the simple proximity to make you feel whole again.

“Nah,” she replies flatly, eyes closed and back turned in harsh finality.

“O-oh, okay. Well, goodnight,” you stutter, temporarily stunned at her poignancy, and you flee her room with your head hung low in rejection.

“Is she okay?” KK asks. You don’t even know how to answer that.

“I have no clue what her deal is,” you mumble. “She’s never not wanted me around, so I think I’m just going to go. I’ve got a girl to get to know,” you add, trying to make yourself feel better.

“We’ll let you know if anything happens,” Ice responds kindly, and you nod gratefully in her direction before you take your leave.

You ignore the anxiety as you walk back home, instead focusing on the flirty messages Scarlett was sending to you. ‘This is what I need,’ you think. Paige was never going to be yours, and now you finally had a real chance at getting over her.

With your head held high, you vowed that your feelings for Paige Bueckers would disappear. But would they really? Time could only tell.

Part 2

Part 3

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would be interested in a second part to this!!

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x you #uconn wbb

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