#the universe really wanted to see me struggle this morning

[greenpixiedust]

Tell me why I start my period with some of the worst period pains ever when I am on a 3 hour train journey😭

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone IV

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your toys are gone

Girl-swan gets juice spilt on her. Girl-moose is dropped in a puddle.

Both of them are filthy, covered in all the dirt that usually gets scrubbed off of you during bathtime.

Magda looks at them both with a raised brow, pinching girl-moose’s tail and girl-swan’s wing. She doesn’t want to really touch them with how dirty they are. She can’t really believe that you want to keep touching them when girl-swan’s wings are literally turning grey from how dirty she is.

She sighs deeply before throwing them into the washing machine, loading it up with washing powder and fabric softener and fiddling with the knobs until it’s on the most intense setting possible. Anything to get all the dirt and germs out.

She glances around before turning it on, spotting your baby blanket lying forgotten on the sofa.

You and Pernille are in your room, getting you dressed for another day at Chelsea training. You must have forgotten to bring it with you.

Magda picks it up. It doesn’t look outwardly dirty but she touches a wet patch and recoils. She brings it to her nose to smell it and relaxes slightly when all she smells is the milk you’ve spilled from breakfast.

She sighs though. It’s still dirty and she chucks it in the wash too, turning on the machine and leaving it to run. It should be finished by the time training finishes so all Magda needs to do is stick it in the dryer and it’ll all be fresh and warm for bedtime.

“We need to go!” She yells up the stairs,” Shoes and coats on please!”

You come barrelling down the stairs holding the gloves Zećira got you for your birthday. You’re wearing one of her full-sized Rosengård jerseys as well. It’s been rolled up as much as possible and tucked into your trackie bottoms and Magda kneels down to help you put on your shoes and coat.

You grab your usual training bag from where it’s sitting on the back of the dinner table chair, struggling to get it over both shoulders until Pernille helps you.

“Come on, come on!” You say,” Zećira’s teaching me penalties today!”

Pernille laughs at how quickly you try to get them out of the house but allows herself to be dragged along.

You have a lot of fun with Zećira at training and she does teach you about penalties. She shows you that you need to anticipate what way the penalty taker will move and you need to be quick enough to stop them.

(One day, you’ll be the most feared keeper to take a penalty against).

You’re happy for most of training until lunch.

Your food is sitting in front of you but you’ve not touched it. You keep digging through your bag. You look through it once then stop. You look through it again, your face getting more and more distressed the longer you search through it.

You practically look distraught by the time Magda arrives with her own food. Pernille’s still in the line but you’re sitting with Niamh, who looks worried over what she’s supposed to do.

Magda’s just sitting down when you burst into tears.

The scraping of cutlery and the chatter of voices dims as you sob.

“Lost!” You cry and Magda gently takes your bag from you. “They’re lost!”

Magda’s confused. Everything she packed in your bag this morning is still there and she rummages to the bottom of the bag and pulls out your keeper glove triumphantly.

“Not lost,” She assures you,” See, they’re right here!”

You look hopeful for a moment before you notice what’s in her hands. “No!” You cry,” Not my gloves!”

“Everything’s here,” Magda assures you,” Nothing’s lost. Nothing at all!”

“They are!” You insist.

“What’s lost?”

“My blankie!”

Magda feels a little bad.

“And my girl-swan and girl-moose!”

Magda suddenly feels a lot worse.

“They’re not lost!” She says quickly,” They’re not lost at all.”

“They are!” You cry, tugging your bag back so you keep empty it all over the table. “Not here!”

“They’re at home!” Magda explains before you start screeching,” They’re just in the wash.”

You take a break from crying to take in Magda’s words. Your bottom lip is still trembling but Magda thinks she’s done a good job at deescalating the situation…

Until you start crying again.

“You’re drowning them! Bad, Morsa! You’re drowning my friends!”

Yeah, Magda’s feeling horrible now.

She tries to pick you up but you refuse her touch, leaning away and clambering into a shell shocked Niamh’s lap, who has no idea what to do but bounce you on her knee.

“What’s going on?” Pernille asks. She’s hurried through the line quickly and places her plate down on the table. “What’s with the tears?”

You point an accusing finger at Magda. “My friends are gone! Morsa’s drowning them!”

“I put her swan, moose and blankie in the washing machine,” Magda explains.

“They’re drowning!” You insist, fat tears running down your cheeks,” They are! They are!”

Pernille sighs, picking you up before placing you on her lap as she slips into your seat. “They’re not drowning,” She says,” Your toys can swim.”

You sniffle. “Promise?”

“I promise. They can definitely swim.”

You wipe away your tears, flopping until you’re resting your ear against Pernille’s chest.

Magda feels terrible. She should have told you that your toys would be taking a little dip. You probably would have whined and made them late for training but that’s definitely a better alternative to this.

You remain morose and depressed all through training and it’s only when you get home that you perk up.

The washing machine is finished and you wrench it open.

Magda grabs your toys and blankie before you can.

“I’m sorry, Princesse,” She says to you,” But they’re still wet. They have to go to the dryer.”

“The dryer’s hot!” You shriek, looking close to tears all over again,” They’ll burn.”

Pernille picks you up, walking you up to your room to get you changed. “It’s just like the hairdryer,” She explains as you go,” And you don’t get burnt on the hairdryer, do you?”

“No, Momma.”

“Then your things won’t burn in the dryer.”

[l1tw1ck]

Neighbors

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 2,321🕷️

[Part Two] | AFAB Language Used

Alternate Universe: Miguel has a daughter

im very not normal about this man

CW: Drunk Sex, Size Kink, Dom/Sub, Oral, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Bathroom Sex, Squirting, Creampie

The neighbors invited you over for a housewarming party and you decided to go. They offered free wine and an assortment of baked goods and other foods, of course you went. What you weren't expecting, was to see your crush and neighbor, Miguel. You’ve known him for a pretty long time and you assumed he wouldn't be here. You wonder what, or who, convinced him.

“Hey, Miguel. I'm surprised to see you here.” You walk over to him.

“Oh, I wasn't going to come but..” He laughs. “Gabi told me she wants me to meet someone new and give her a little sibling. She's so adamant on it but she doesn't even know how it works. The first time she asked, she didn't mention a partner but I told her I don't want any more kids if I don't have one. One little rascal is enough.” He shakes his head. “Now she's obsessed with finding me a husband.”

“What does Gabriella think of me?” You ask.

Miguel’s thankful you can't tell he’s blushing. “Well, she's really fond of you…She said she'd like the two of us to…to be together.”

“Yeah? That's good. It's nice that the daughter of the father I'm pursuing is rooting for me.”

He feels his heart beating faster. “The father you're…pursuing?”

“You heard me.”

“You- you don't have to. Pursue me. I…” He looks down at his feet then back at you. “I already want you.”

“If that's the case, why don't we go to my place and make baby number two?” You chuckle.

“Take me on a date first, player.” He laughs.

“I’d love to. Are you free tomorrow night? What do you think about going out drinking? There's a nice bar around here that serves food.”

“Well, luckily for you, Gabi’s having a sleepover tomorrow. Why don't you pick me up at 8?”

“Sure thing. Wear something sexy.”

Miguel smirks. “Only if you wear a suit.”

“Deal.”

“Gabi, you're gonna be late!” Miguel stands in her doorway, hands on his hips while he watches her frantically pack her bag. She knows her friend won't mind if she comes later than expected but Miguel’s nagging is making her feel like she's gonna get crucified for being late.

“Calm down, papá!” She zips up her backpack and slips it on her shoulders.

“Come on, mija! Let’s go!” He hurries downstairs, Gabriella following closely behind.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“I- Because your friend will be upset!” He puts on a pair of shoes that are easy to take off.

Gabriella stops and crosses her arms. “Liar.”

Miguel sighs. “I’m…I’m going on a date tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?! With who?”

“...[Name].”

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get you two together for ages!”

Miguel laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, I need time to get ready.”

Gabi makes a face that resembles a certain fictional yellow sponge’s face. She looks very excited and veryy interested to find out all the details of your date. She’ll have to pester him about it tomorrow morning. Miguel will have to come up with a kid friendly retelling.

Miguel comes back home two hours before 8. The drive was only 30 minutes but he wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to get ready. He hasn't gone on a date in years, he’s so anxious.

He digs deep into his closet, pulling out a satin red dress he bought impulsively last year. He had nowhere to wear it but his friend convinced him to try it on and he loved the way he looked in it. He had to buy it, along with a matching pair of heels, just in case he got the opportunity to wear it. He internally thanks himself and his friend for their past decision as he slips it on. He admires himself in the mirror. You’re gonna love this. He searches for his unused pair of heels and puts them on. He struggles a little to walk but he’ll get used to it.

He walks over to his dresser and opens up a drawer, pulling out a makeup bag. He doesn't wear makeup much, he usually just covers up his eyebags, but he wants to look good for you today so he’ll try using the thankfully not expired makeup he has. He hopes you like it.

You wait outside Miguel’s door with a bouquet of red roses. Ah, first date jitters. You haven't felt like this in a while. Miguel opens the door. Fuck. He looks gorgeous.

“You look amazing, Miguel..” You look at him in awe.

“Thank you..” He smiles. “You clean up nice.”

“Why thank you.” You smile back and hand him the roses.

“These are beautiful.” He takes in the floral scent. “Let me put them in water.” He hurries inside and finds an empty vase. You wait patiently for him until he comes back.

“Your carriage awaits, my prince.” You wink, reaching your hand out. Miguel takes your hand and follows you to the car. “I figured getting a driver would be better, since we’ll both be drinking.” You open the car door. Miguel gets in and then you get in after him.

“I really feel like royalty now.” Miguel laughs.

“You should, because you are. Whenever I’m with you, I want you to feel like a prince. You deserve to be treated like royalty.”

Miguel looks at you, lovestruck.

“It might be too early to say this but…I love you, Miguel, and I’m always going to make sure you know that.”

“I love you too.” He’s smiling so much it hurts.

After about an hour and a half of drinking, the both of you are veryy drunk.

“Did you bring condoms?” Miguel asks, interrupting a previously wholesome conversation.

“...I didn't think you wanted to have sex already.”

He frowns. “Go buy some.”

“I- I can't.” You look at him sheepishly. “I actually tried to buy some at the stores near here and uh…they don't have my size.”

Miguel stares at you. You can almost see a loading symbol over his head. “You’re too small?”

“Oh, no, I’m too big.” You shake your head. “I’m not huge so I expected them to have my size in stock but I guess not. I had to order some online.”

He bites his lip. “Let me see.”

You smirk. “Are you just gonna look or do you want to give it a thorough examination?”

“I'm gonna suck your cock.” He says plainly and somehow also seductively.

“I’ll call an uber.”

Miguel pushes you against your front door and immediately starts kissing you. He was too impatient to wait any longer. He reaches for your crotch and starts groping you.

He pulls away from the kiss, a bit of his lipstick transferred to your lips. “I don't want you to treat me like a prince in bed. I want you to have control over me.”

“So you want to submit to me?”

He nods.

“Get on your knees.” You say as you unbuckle your belt and unzip your slacks. He immediately falls to his knees. You pull your boxers down, revealing your hard cock.

Miguel stares in awe. He opens up his mouth and tries to take all of you in his mouth.

“You’re so greedy, Miguel.” You chuckle, gripping his hair and pulling him away. He whines in dismay. “You want to suck my cock? Beg for it.”

“Ple- please! Please let me suck your cock, sir!”

“Good boy.” You let go of his hair. Miguel quickly swallows your length again, eagerly deep throating your fat cock and covering it in red lipstick stains. He definitely looks like he's enjoying himself, so much so that his underwear must be soaked in his slick. “I know you want to touch yourself, go ahead.”

Miguel quickly brings his hand underneath his dress and rubs his aching bottom growth through the lace fabric of his panties, moaning along your shaft.

“You look so beautiful like this.”

He whimpers. He loves to be praised. He looks into your eyes before speeding up, sucking you off even faster than before. He closes his eyes, getting into it. The feeling of your hot, thick shaft filling up his throat makes him so aroused. He could probably come just from sucking you off.

“Such a good slut for me…you really love my cock, don't you?”

If Miguel could purr, he would. You wrap your fingers in his hair and gently pull him away. He almost lets out a whine. “Can I fuck your face?”

“Oh God, please.” He nods.

You pull him forward, filling his mouth up with your cock, and start fucking his throat. He rolls his eyes back, lazily rutting his dick against his own hand. His eyes start to well up with tears of pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, doing so well.” You lick your lips. Miguel moans, tears rolling down his cheeks. They mix with his eyeliner, causing black streaks to stain his face. He has no idea how sexy he looks right now.

“‘M gonna come–” You groan. “And you're gonna swallow it all, aren't you, baby?”

Miguel would nod if he could.

“Good.” You bring him all the way to the base of your cock and pump his mouth full of your load. He’s quick to swallow, happy to consume it all. You pull away and admire his wrecked face. “You’re so pretty..” You sigh lovingly. “Do you want to stay over?” You ask, pulling up your pants.

“Yeah…Just have to wake up early to pick up Gabi at 8.”

“No problem. You want a ride?” You ask. He nods softly. You help him onto his feet and take him to your bathroom.

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” You hold onto the straps of his dress, waiting for his permission to strip him.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” He asks, frowning.

You chuckle at his drunken self. “Remember what I said? I'm sorry, baby, we can't.”

He pouts. “You said you wanted to give me a baby didn't you? Just breed me, already..”

“Oh sweetheart…” You take a piece of paper and get it wet then wipe off his makeup. “Let’s get married first, okay?”

He growls. He looks adorable. You pick him up and sit him down on the sink. You push his dress up. His lingerie is soaked. “At the very least, I’ll make you come, baby.” You pull his panties off.

“Nn- no…” He pulls on your tie. “Fuck me. And then- and then we'll elope-”

You laugh. “Didn't you say that I’m the one who's in charge? You're not being a very good boy..” You tsk.

“Please, Daddy.”

You sigh, swayed by his cuteness. “You win.” You slip two fingers inside him one by one. “You didn't make it a fair fight.” You slowly fuck him with your digits.

“Mm..” He bites his lip, enjoying the way your thick fingers feel inside of him. But he’d enjoy your cock way more. “Put it in, please~”

“Say it properly.”

“Please put your cock inside my pussy, Daddy.” He smiles cutely.

“Good boy.” You pull your fingers out and free your already hard cock. You slowly ease your length inside him, eyes trained on his face as you stretch out his cunt.

Miguel hisses in pain. You're big and it doesn't help that he hasn't had sex in over a decade. “Don't stop-” He moans. “‘S good- good pain-”

You lean into his neck and press soft kisses against it. You have to mentally restrain yourself from biting and marking him. “You’re doing good, baby, taking me so well.” You pull down the strap of his dress, freeing his breast and allowing you to grope it. He whimpers, rolling his head back as you reach deep inside of him. His eyes widen, a gasp leaving his lips as your cock brushes against his g-spot and sends a wave of pleasure up his body. He bites his lip as your cock moves in further and continues pleasing that area. “I’m all the way in, honey.” You go in to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your neck and joins in your passion, tongue dancing with yours.

He pulls away and looks at you with half lidded seductive eyes. “Fuck me.” He pauses. “Please.” He remembers his manners.

“That’s right, baby. You ask, not demand.” You smirk. You hold his waist and fuck him at a gentle pace. “God, you feel so good, baby…Fuck..”

For the first time tonight, despite the fact that it should've occurred earlier, Miguel feels embarrassed. But in a good way. He loves how pleased you look with his pussy.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “‘S good, so good, Daddy.” He moans. You're so big that even with the slow pace you're fucking him at it feels amazing.

“Can I go faster?”

“Yes- please~”

You pick up the pace. “You’re gorgeous, Miguel.” You kiss his cheek. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He moans even louder. “Thank you- thank you, Daddy-” He gasps. “Gonna- gonna come– can I come?”

You groan in pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, of course you can.” You stroke his t-dick, instantly dragging out his orgasm. He squirts on your cock, shaking heavily. You slow down before stopping. You’d definitely come if you kept going. Miguel moves his hips and before you can process what he's doing, you come. “Miguel..” You look at him.

He turns away from you. “‘M sorry..”

“We’re both drunk so I’ll forgive you just this once. Plus I’m more worried about you…I should buy you the morning after pill.” You pull out and pause, enamored by the way his pulsing cunt looks with your cum dripping out of it. You help him off the sink and onto his feet.

“Alright, let's clean up, hm?”

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[supernovafics]

lowkey, i wanna see steve in the “i’ll be there for u” world taking care of reader after coming back from a bar with some college friends—he’d be so sweet taking off her makeup & trying not to laugh at her messed up sentences

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: explicit language, drunk!reader, fluff

summary: in which after a night out with some friends, steve takes care of you

author's note: thank you for the request🫶🏾

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Your main goal when you entered the apartment was to not wake Steve up. 

However, that was almost impossible to do when you were accidentally shutting the front door much louder than you wanted to, and then you were tripping over the pile of shoes that sat next to the door and were actually neatly stacked for once. 

Somehow, even in your inebriated state, you managed to catch yourself and only stumbled a bit instead of falling straight to the ground. You couldn't help but laugh loudly at yourself and then you abruptly slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized how noisy you were being. 

You flicked on the light and then dropped your bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the floor so that you could fix the shoes. It should’ve taken barely a minute to do and you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand, but all you could do was giggle at your confusion. And then since you were on the floor, you decided to work on untying your Converses and taking them off, which also proved to be somewhat of a struggle because of your drunkenness. 

It was then that you finally came to the conclusion that you probably should’ve stopped drinking after your third drink. 

Your initial plan hadn’t been to get drunk, and you honestly didn’t even think that you’d end up going to the bar in the first place because it was a last minute plan set up by a few people in your communications class. But then you were lying on the couch in the living room, already in your pajamas at only nine o’clock on a Friday, and you changed your mind. You got up from the couch and traded in your old t-shirt and sleep shorts for a cute enough outfit, and then called Steve at Family Video. 

You told him that you decided to go to the bar and you were very close to asking him if he could meet you there after his shift, but then you remembered how early he had to wake up for his one tomorrow. 

“You okay?” The abrupt sound of Steve’s voice made you jump and drop the sneaker in your hand. The pile actually looked worse than when you started to fix it what felt like five minutes ago. 

“Woah, you scared me,” You said as you turned to look at him. A pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had a white t-shirt on. It was when you noticed that his hair looked like a disheveled mess and he was rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes that you remembered what your goal had been when you entered the apartment. “Oh shit, I woke you up. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” He told you with a shrug. “Why are you sitting on the floor?” 

“I messed up the shoe pile…” You mumbled and haphazardly gestured to the sneakers next to you. “Also, I think I’m a little drunk because the floor actually feels really comfortable right now.”

Steve smiled at that. “I think you’re more than just a little.”

“Not true,” You said as you shook your head at him, which he only smiled wider at because your head shake was much more dramatic than you intended it to be.

Steve reached his hands out toward you. “Come on. We’ll fix the sneakers in the morning.” 

You grabbed his outstretched hands and he pulled you up, which you couldn’t help but giggle at. You were simply looking at him and smiling widely before your lips were quickly finding his. 

After only a second, he pulled away, chuckling a little at your eagerness. “Hey, no funny business right now. You’re drunk.” 

Instead of responding to his very true statement, your arms wrapped around him and you buried your face in his neck. “It’s okay. I don’t care.”

You could feel him shaking his head at your words, but he still hugged you back. “I care.”

There was something about the way he softly said the two simple words that made you smile and hold him tighter. You were pulling away after a second, taking a reasonable step back away from him and then holding your hands up in a joking surrender. “Okay, fine. I’ll keep things completely PG.”

“Good,” Steve laughed before he reached out, intertwining one of his hands with yours, and then led you to the right toward your bedroom instead of to the left toward his. 

You sat down on your bed and Steve went over to your dresser, rummaging through it to find some pajamas for you to put on so that you could get out of the jeans and black top you were wearing. 

“Here, change into this,” He said as he handed you a random oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. You nodded and started to unbutton your jeans. “I’m gonna grab you some water for right now and aspirin for the morning.”

“Thank you. You’re the best. I love you,” You said, smiling widely. Your affectionate words right then were actually pretty tame compared to how sentimental you’d usually get whenever you were drunk. You’d done enough emotional drunken rambling to the cab driver you had on the way home. With absolutely no prompting, you told him about you and Steve and how you two had been best friends for years and years and then decided to move in together this past summer and then just recently finally got into a relationship. The driver was actually pretty interested in the story, or maybe it only felt like he was because of your inebriation— you’d wonder which was right in the morning. 

“I love you too,” Steve smiled back at you and then leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. 

You gave him a teasing look. “We’re supposed to be keeping things PG, remember?”

He laughed a bit. “A forehead kiss is the most PG we’ve been in a while.”

“I’m also completely okay with not being PG,” You told him.

“Not happening tonight,” Steve said, placing a quick kiss against your cheek this time before walking to the door and heading into the kitchen. 

You were fully changed when he came back, and the clothes you’d been wearing were in a heap on the floor next to your bed because you couldn’t feel bothered to put them anywhere else. Steve handed you a glass of water and he noticed that you put your t-shirt on backward, but he decided not to say anything about it and only smiled at you. He knew that you definitely hadn’t sobered up in the slightest because you didn’t question the amused look he was giving you. 

You drank some of the water and then placed the glass down on your nightstand. You got into your bed and pulled your blanket over your legs. “You’re staying in here, right?”

“Of course,” He nodded as he settled in next to you. 

You laid down, head easily finding the pillow, and then turned on your side to face Steve and he did the same. He decidedly kept a bit of space between you two because he wasn’t sure what you, or he, would be tempted to do if your legs became entangled and your warmth was radiating right against him. 

“So, how was tonight?” He asked. “I’m guessing you had fun?” 

“Yeah, it was good,” You answered with a nod and there was a hint of a smile on your face. “Missed you a lot. Probably told way too many stories about you to everyone.” You laughed as you covered your face. “I think I became the kind of girl that only talks about her boyfriend. I’ll probably never get invited out by them again.” 

“I wish I could’ve been there to see that,” Steve said, smiling softly and you had to push away the urge you had to run a hand through his messy hair and kiss him. “Wait, did you tell any embarrassing stories?” 

You shifted a bit closer to him and dropped your voice down to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t mention the time when we were twelve and you were staying at my house and I jumpscared you so bad that you peed your pants a little.”

“Now I don’t know if I believe you because you thought of that story way too fast.”

“It’s just one of my favorites, but I promise I didn’t say it tonight. Girl Scouts honor.”

He laughed as he shook his head. “You were never a Girl Scout.”

You shrugged and poked his side. “Shh, let’s just pretend for a sec.”

Steve only nodded in response and held back his laughter. 

The quietness that prevailed over the next few moments made a sudden wave of tiredness wash over you; it was as if a flip was switched and you were finally ready to pass out for the night. You shut your eyes and let out a soft sigh. 

You heard Steve’s voice after a second. “You okay?”

“Mhm, jus’ a little tired.” You closed the rest of the distance between you and shifted around so that you were settled back against him. You weren’t even really trying to make things non-“PG” between you two; settling in close next to him was always just the most natural thing to do.

“Okay,” Steve said and wrapped an arm around you, another instinctual thing to do. 

“I’m really sorry I woke you up. I know that you have to get up in like four hours,” You abruptly said as your hand found his and intertwined it with yours. “I really did try to stay quiet when I came in.” 

“I think I would’ve found you asleep next to the shoes in the morning if I didn’t wake up when I did,” Steve told you before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

You let out a sleepy laugh. “That’s probably very true.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[reiderwriter]

Hii! Could you write a Spencer x fem reader, she's extremely confident & forward and Spencer gets all flustered, shy and overwhelmed at how forward she is with flirting with him and complimenting him (even tho he loves it), thank you:-)

A/N: This was such a cute request, thanks for sending it in! I love shy and oblivious Spencer he's so silly and cute ㅠㅠ

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Spencer Reid is a genius. But if he hasn't noticed you've been flirting with his for a week straight, he must be an idiot. Non-BAU!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol intake. Kissing. Slightly suggestive ending.

Here's my masterlist, requests are open! 🎉

Working with the FBI as a consultant on a case was practically a dream come true for you, but what was even more dreamy was the man you got to work with whilst consulting. You’d arrived bright and early, really eager to help with the case you’d been called in for. On the phone, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner had asked for your help decoding some documents that the team thought had something to do with the Literature you were teaching as part of your course at a local university.

In all honesty, you were a massive fan of detective novels, an early love for Agatha Christie and the Golden Age of mystery making you entertain an idea in law enforcement before you decided that really wasn’t for you, so you were eager to help out in anyway you could fathom.

“One of our Special Agents, Doctor Reid, has decoded most of it, but he says there are some key areas he may be missing and he wants to pick your brains, to see if you can help him come up with something,” he said, guiding you into a small sideroom.

Having previously heard that Doctor Spencer Reid had achieved no less than three PhDs and three additional Bachelor's Degrees in varying subjects, you weren’t quite sure to expect when walking into the room. You certainly weren’t expecting one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen in your life to be sat reading through a pretty thick tome at an incredible speed.

“Reid, this is Professor Y/L/N, she’s here to help you decode the cypher. Professor, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” Hotchner introduced you, but as soon as you picked your jaw up off the floor, you instantly stepped forward.

“Please, call me Y/N. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you… Spencer was it?” You smile and stick out your hand. You notice the flush on the man's face and your grin grows even wider as he hesitates to take your hand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really shake hands, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He stutters through the words, almost struggling to get them out, but you don’t falter for a second.

“Kiss me then,” you say smirking up at him and you realise that the other agent had since left the room, leaving you alone with the object of your affections. Ignoring your response, but face tinged such a bright shade of red that you knew he was effected by it, he dives into the facts of the case.

“We think that he’s using some kind of cypher based on some books you’ve been researching recently at the University, which means we think he could possibly be a student of yours. I read through your PhD thesis this morning, and there are certain commonalities that suggest you could be the key to solving some of our unknowns.”

“You read my thesis? What did you think of it?” you ask, moving to sit in the chair directly next to him, scooting it a little bit closer than was polite.

“I don’t have a degree in Literature of the Renaissance Period, so I’m not sure how much value my opinion really holds in this scenario,” he looks at you and you’re pleasantly surprised at how genuine he’s being.

“Well, you’ve seen mine, can I see yours?” you allow the cogs in his brain to keep turning for a few seconds then continue. “I’m sure with three PhDs to your name, you’ve probably got a few research papers floating about, right?”

“Oh….” he blushes again, turning his eyes away from you and doing his best not to make eye contact. “I’m sure I could send them to you after we’ve completed this case if you think they would allow you a deeper insight into any of my fields of study.” He coughs a little to hide the way his voice pitched up as he spoke and kept his eyes trained on the book in his hands.

This consulting role was going to be the most fun you’d had in weeks.

–X–

A week later, you found yourself sat at a bar, surrounded by the members of the BAU team celebrating another case closed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to fully partake in their merryments exactly. You’d assumed, after an entire week of flirting very openly with Reid, that when he’d asked you to the bar that evening to celebrate wrapping up the case, he’d meant just the two of you. Alas, you had discovered over the week that not only was he the most adorable man you’d ever met, he was also the most oblivious. Impressive for a man with an IQ of 187.

You couldn’t complain too much. Your help on the case had meant the rescue of two young girls, two of your students in undergrad courses nonetheless, so you’d at least made a difference. You had nothing against the rest of the team either, having become fast friends with Garcia, and enjoying your twenty minutes of small ltalk in the morning at the coffee station with Prentiss, Morgan and JJ as well. Hell, you even loved Rossi, who gave off the fun Uncle vibe that you found rounded out the team well. But you couldn’t curb your disappointment still, so you distanced yourself from the table a bit and removed yourself to the bar to grab yourself a new drink. You stayed there for a few minutes to nurse it.

“Hello, beautiful,” the man sat at the barstool next to you leered down at you, “you looking for some company in the bottom of that glass tonight?” He winked at you and your skin crawled. It wasn’t just his creepy smile, and the disgusting way he dragged his eyes over your body, it was that he was also very likely older than your own father. Some people were into that, but you certainly weren’t

“Not today, thanks,” you said, hoping that would be enough to get him to leave you in peace, but of course it wasn’t.

“Hot piece of ass like you, you need a real man to take care of you.” He pushed his hand out and for a split second you were convinced he was going to make an attempt to smack your ass. Before he was able to make contact, and, perhaps more importantly, before you could be arrested for aggravated assault, a hand was wrapping around your hip and pulling you away from the man, your back colliding with a firm chest behind you.

“Y/N, Special Agent Hotchner is about to leave and he wanted to thank you for coming to consult for us. The FBI is always really grateful for conscientious citizens like you willing to help us keep the streets safe.” Spencer turned you around and said, emphasising words to make it clear what his job was, speaking loudly enough that you knew the words were only for the creep behind you who’d thought to lay a hand on you.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said as the man downed the rest of his drink and made to leave the bar, obviously embarrassed and threatened by Spencer’s arrival. He made to loosen his grip on you as the man left, but you through your arms around his neck, not letting him leave. If this was your last opportunity to make him realise what you wanted, you absolutely weren’t going to let it get away from you.

“I wanted to thank you for this week as well, Spencer. Hotch said it was you that recommended me for the consulting role.” He blushed and stood there a little awkwardly, but made no move to leave, his hands unmoving from your hips. It reminded you of your middle school prom, in all honesty.

“Oh that’s no big deal. It worked out pretty well in the end, though, right, with your students and everything.” You nodded and thanked him again, but you were still pretty reluctant to see him walk away, back to the table filled with his closest friends and colleagues.

“So, are you looking forward to going back home? I’m sure your boyfriend or husband or whatever will be really glad to see you again.” He mumbled and you felt your heart stop for a second.

“Spencer, I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a husband, or any kind of partner for that matter. I’m sorry if I made you think I do,” you saw his eyes widen in panic a little, and you relaxed a bit yourself as he started to talk again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed that someone as pretty as you couldn’t be single.” He stuttered every single word out, and you didn’t quite register his words for a second.

“You think I’m pretty?” you ask looking up at him and he gapes down at you, realising this conversation is just him shooting himself in the foot over and over again.

“Shit… what I mean is…Y/N you have to know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was your turn to blush then, feeling the sincerity in his words.

“You know, I thought you were asking me out on a date tonight.” You tell him, watching his entire face crumple again in distress.

“But I told you we were going out to celebrate finishing the case!” He spoke in his defence.

“Spencer, what were your exact words?”

“Y/N, do you want to grab a drink tonight? It would be nice to celebrate now that the case is closed and- oh. OH.” The realisation dawned on his face, and you enjoyed the little look of devastation that played out there as his blush deepened.

“It’s fine, Spencer, really. If you’re not interested in me, you’re not interested, I get it.” You sighed, finally moving to let him go, resigned to your fate now.

“Wait, Y/N, that’s not what I meant!” He grabbed you by the hand gently, not quite as close as you were the moment before but still standing notably close. You realised you probably had an audience for this.

“I didn’t realise that you’d want to go on a date with me, you’re so beautiful and smart, I just never thought you’d be interested.” Your brain almost exploded with that, and you had to make a conscious effort to not have your jaw drop to the floor, but apparently the man wasn’t finished. “I just assumed you had a flirty personality, and like, really look at you and then look at me-” you absolutely had to cut him off before he said anything else, so you did.

Crashing your lips up into his was the most sensible thing you’d done since stepping into the bar that evening. He was statuesque at first, unmoving while your lips pressed against him, but he warmed up to it and began kissing you back with equal fervor. You moved the hands that were holding yours to your waist, then moved your own hands up to tangle in his hair, playing with a few curls at the base of his neck.

After a few minutes, you finally pulled away to see a dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Oh. Oh, I see now,” was all he could get out, unable to form more words as he panted into the space between you,

“Yeah? That’s good. I’ve been flirting with you all week, so it’s nice of you to finally notice.” You giggle up at him slowly, and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“What should….what should I do now?” He asked, obviously a little bit unsure of himself, and happy to let you take the lead.

“Well, you can either take me back to your place now, or you could start with asking me out on that date?” He looked like he was seriously weighing up his options for a minute, before he looked you in the eye again.

“Can I do both?”

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @kspencer34

[vroomvroomcircuit]

"Diamonds are made under pressure, aren't they?"

Summary: It's about treading the line between 'diamonds are made under pressure' and 'bread only rises through rest', describing the struggles of two people that come with being described as one of the best drivers to ever exist and the smartest person in the room

Pairing: Max Verstappen x engineer!reader

Wordcount: 2k

🏎Masterlist🏎

_______________________

“Diamonds are made under pressure.”

This is a sentence, a one-liner, that has been thrown at (Y/N) through an off-sentence by a friend during one of their most stressful weeks of university. Ever since she lived by it. It was one of the mantras she retold herself over and over again during one of too many all-nighters, only accompanied by sugary energy drinks and crippling anxiety about her future if she doesn't get through this assignment on time.

In the end it all, meaning the late nights and early mornings in libraries, study halls and classrooms, was worth it, the grind she held through her bachelors in engineering got her a seat on the Red Bull Racing team in Formula 1. Ultimately, it brought her to her true love, Max Verstappen.

They have similar mindsets, after all, there is always room for improvement and why wait for it when you can do it now? So many people are counting on them anyway.

This is something they have discussed during late night talks. These started back then when he was in his third year with Red Bull and (Y/N)’s first.

Max was about to leave the factory after a long day of working on the new car for the upcoming season. He stopped when he saw a light still burdening in one of the offices. Being the environmentally conscious person he is, he wanted to turn it off. Good one, Max. Without you Red Bull would go bankrupt based on the energy bills alone.

Instead of an empty office, he was met with wide eyes. “Uh, I apologize for running in like that. I thought somebody forgot to turn off the light”, the driver explained his sudden appearance.

After recovering from the initial shock of having her door thrown open out of the blue, (Y/N) was quick to put Max back at ease. “Oh no, it’s fine. I guess it really is late. I just wanted to run the suggestions you made to the team through a simulation and see if the outcome really does change like you expect it to.” The young woman smiled tiredly at him before continuing punching some numbers into her computer and sipping on a can of Red Bull (the orange one is the best, you can’t change my mind).

“You don’t sound convinced by my idea too much”, he noticed with a small grin of his own, “Was what I said not smart?” He still whacked his brain whether or not she was with the team he worked with today. He surely would remember, right?

“Oh, I would know what you said word for word, I was with the other driver today. But Mike gave me the notes and why wait to put what you suggested to work when I can do it now?” (Y/N) winks at him.

“And still you think it won’t work.” And with that they started an in depth discussion about the outcome that is to be expected with the proposed changes. In the middle of another Maxplaining (Y/N) just turned her computer screen towards the man leaning against the doorway, proving her point she told him from the beginning of their conversation.

“Well, I guess you need to explain these results to me. Maybe over a cup of coffee?”

“I definitely need to, can’t have our golden boy lack knowledge in the field of engineering. We want these Championship wins.” With that she packed her back. “I know a place that’s still open.”

Born with that are many more discussions, partially very heated even, that could only be solved by getting one of the heavy textbooks out that (Y/N) still kept from her uni days. Sometimes held over coffee in softly lighted cafes around the world, later during dinners, which are only interrupted by waiters desperately trying to get their attention to jot down their orders, and in the end they continue them in the security that only their own four walls can provide.

One time during a race weekend the whole team had a bet going on about how long the two can keep talking about the same subject. After two hours they had to be stopped, both of them needing to follow their own programme points of the day. GP won the bet, having to listen to their conversations on a regular basis with no way to escape them, because they are vital with important key information. Still, it doesn’t mean that they are exciting.

Now, three years after that initial meeting, three WDC and two WCC have been secured since. During that time the aspiring engineer decided to pursue a masters degree in technical engineering alongside her work in the team (or more like Christian offering her a whole ride paid by Red Bull after hearing her talking about this and knowing how much extra value this brings to the upcoming seasons).

The couple’s apartment in Monaco starts to look more like a library than a living space for humans, textbooks and loose papers scattered over every available surface and the floor of their office. While the driver greatly admires his love’s determination to get through her programme with the best possible grades, he starts to worry a bit. He has heard stories from her friends and family from her time at uni and what her study habits had looked like back then.

Hell, Max himself plants his ass for more hours on the sim than probably necessary, since there is always room for improvement. But seeing his girlfriend become a zombie version of the person he got to know was definitely not what he had expected when she signed up for going back to uni.

“Schatje? I thought you wanted to join me in bed?” Max asked (Y/N) tiredly, who is still sitting in her seat at the office desk while pouring over textbooks and a writing document on her laptop. His voice tells her that he already had fallen asleep, but something must have woken him up. Was she talking to herself again? She tends to do that when getting lost in her own world of equations and laws of physics.

“Yes, I will be with you in a minute. Let me just write this down, I finally understood that concept”, the engineer waved him off absentmindedly, the other hand retracing a line in a book, which has been assaulted by differently colored highlighters.

But Max is nothing but a stubborn man and if life had taught him one lection then it’s to never give up easily. “Come on, it’s really late and all your smart thoughts will still be there after you get some sleep”, he tried convincing her, moving closer and massaging the tension away from his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“I told you, I’ll be there in a sec. But a masters thesis doesn’t write itself and I would deeply appreciate it if you would leave me be to finish this up.” Frustration starts to set in (Y/N)’s voice.

Max is not irritated by it at all. He had been the same, if not worse, to her in his most challenging moments of his career. He knows that he can be a harsh person, unfortunately even to his loved ones. But that also means he knows how to deal with harsh people.

“You know what, I’ll put the kettle on and make us a cup of tea while you wrap this up and we meet again in the bedroom. Okay?” Softly spoken, the Dutchman proposes the idea to her.

(Y/N) can’t really say no to this, knowing that her brain wouldn’t be able to process and absorb much more information anyways. Still, there is a certain guilt gnawing on her conscience whenever she is about to take a break from her studies.

With puppy dog eyes the engineer looks up to her boyfriend. “Can you make it a hot chocolate, please? And maybe some of the cookies you brought home from the bakery?” Her small voice is enough to ask Max to do nothing short of a murder and he would say yes without wasting any thoughts on it. “Of course, Schatje. Anything for my smart and brilliant girl.” He presses a kiss on her forehead before disappearing from the office.

Not long after this the couple finds themselves sipping from their mugs with some calming music playing in the background and munching on some treats.

“My love, I feel like when I talk to you now about the importance of taking breaks and resting, we both will have a déjà-vu,” Max says with a small smile.

He is not wrong. They actually talked about it a couple of months ago when Max had to be dragged off the sim, because he had been stressing himself out about a particular race way too much to consider it a healthy try to improve.

“I know, I know. It’s just, being smart is not easy and I try to live up to the title of the clever woman in my family and in the team,” (Y/N) confesses quietly. The driver puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her further into his embrace.

“What do you mean, Schatje? What do you have to live up to?” Murmurs are whispered into her hair.

“It can be hard, being the smart one. Because as soon as people catch on, they start expecting things from you. Suddenly, you are knowledgeable in every single subject available on earth. You become other people’s measurement scale. When they get something right and you wrong, they will rub it into your face.

You have to do great things, because they want you to do that. You will get pressured into using your intellect to the fullest extent, because otherwise they say your potential is wasted. Nobody wants you to do that, it would be a shame. Apparently to everybody and their mother.

This is why I sometimes hate to be the smart one. No one wants me to be average, they need me to be exceptional. That’s why I have to study hard and read everything there is on this subject. And diamonds are made under pressure, aren’t they?”

Max understands the kind of pressure that is on her. He felt like that for the majority of his life, having to exceed the expectations of other people over and over again, because only meeting them just is not enough.

Either he is the best driver out there or he shouldn’t even bother to try. That is something he had been told from his early days into his driving career. He lived by it like it was the only truth that mattered.

This was until he met her. (Y/N) showed him that trying is better than never starting. That his best will always be enough. Nobody has been born being a master in something. Failing is an important part of the way to perfection. Mistakes have to be made to improve, to learn what needs to be improved.

And he wants to show her that all of this also counts for her, too.

“Do you wanna know what Christian said to me a couple of months ago? ‘Just like dough, you can rise only if you rest.’ You need time to recharge to be able to do your best. Let’s take the day tomorrow off, recharge our batteries and just laze around and snooze in a bit. After tomorrow, I’ll help you study.”

A study date with Max Verstappen is too good to say no to. Whenever he quizzes (Y/N), she gets a kiss for every correct answer. So the questions might get easier over time. Still, he motivates her to do her best while looking out for her water intake and food consumption and taking regular breaks for stretching her body or going for a walk.

Max is right, you need to rest to continue achieving greatness.

[sunnymoonxx]

better to stay quiet (I?) | miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: miguel found a universe where you and your daughter were safe and happy and decided to visit. for months, he pretended to be your husband, but you slowly started to realise some things were different.

warnings: S M U T, soft and subby miguel if you close your eyes, also english is not my first language so yeah, enjoy ig <333

m.list

You were lying underneath your blanket, reading a book you recently bought last week, waiting for your husband to return to your room. You last heard of him four hours ago when he decided to put Gabriella, your daughter, to sleep. It was close to midnight when you put your book down thinking about what could be taking so long. It was already past your bedtime, and you wanted to do some things before you went to sleep.

Right as you lowered your foot on the floor to find out what he was doing, the door to your bedroom opened, your husband standing in between them. White, see through, shirt tight on his body, and grey sweatpants which he wore almost every day. You didn't complain.

You turned your head to him, smile playing on your lips. His hair was messy, and dark circles started to appear under his eyes. "What took you so long?" You laughed as you watched Miguel slowly approach your bed and throw himself on it a few seconds later.

"Bria wouldn't listen," he whispers, enjoying the soft matress underneath his back. He watched as you towered over him, looking him deep in the eyes, full of amusement. "she demanded I read her a bedtime story but wouldn't stop asking questions." He smiles at the memory, sitting up to be face to face to you. His brown eyes stared deep into yours, scaning your face like he just saw you for the first time.

"Well, she takes after her father." You joked, pushing the strands of hair back to have a clear look at him. He was obviously tired and not in the mood to do anything you were planning. "You also ask awful lot of questions." You murmured as you lightly kissed his forehead and went back to lean on the bedframe.

"I ask the important ones," he responded, sass in his voice, not taking his eyes off of you. "She asks everything." Smile appearing on his lips as he moved to be closer to you, sitting right next to you, shoulders touching. You smiled to yourself, resting your head on his shoulder and your arm on his thigh. You couldn't not notice how bigger he had gotten. A few months ago, he was almost as tall as you, now? Now, he manhandles you without struggle, his size is your height twice, and his strength increased incredibly. Now, his one hand can hold both of your wrists while still having space. You didn't understand this rapid change but you didn't complain. In some things, you liked it more. In some, places.

"She's still a child, Mig." You looked up at him, catching him staring at you. "But you ask questions that you already know." You snorted, caressing his cheek. "Like, last week you asked me when's my mother's birthday." You pointed out, sitting straight. His furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Honey, you went to her funeral."

"Yeah," he laughed at himself, remembering the incident. He was so beautiful, looking down, sitting next to you, not doing anything. You could stare at him forever.

Among his change of size, you also couldn't understand his change of relationship with Gabriella. A year ago, they hated each other, Gabriella always running to you because Miguel didn't know the right thing to say. Now Gabriella adores him, always being with him, playing sports together, planning on how to prank you early in the morning. You adored this change, making you change your mind about him being a bad father. Maybe he just needed some time to adjust. Even you needed time.

His change of actions towards you. At work. In private. In bed. He never really paid attention to your needs in bed, you always have to remind him, followed by him rolling his eyes. Now, he takes you without warning. Always thinking about you, sometimes even forgetting about his own needs and falling asleep, you smushed in his arms. His fingers and tongue dancing between your legs, making you feel things you never knew existed. Whatever made him change, you loved every second of it.

And you wanted to feel that way tonight again, so you got up to straddle his lap, your hands on his shoulders. His shocked face made you smile, overwhelmed of how cute he was without even trying. "Is Bria asleep?" you asked, trying to make sure not to cause any future trauma. Without hesitation, Miguel nodded his head, looking into your eyes like some lost puppy. It made you go crazy.

You mumbled to yourself before taking his face into your hands and drowning him in your kiss. His hands automatically moved to your waist, pushing you against his crotch which grew bigger with every minute of you kissing passionately. Another thing you noticed that changed. He got bigger. Thicker. And fuck, you couldn't get enough of him. Taking him into your mouth, letting him spread your cunt causing you to cover your face in the pillow, trying to stay quiet. Letting him fuck your tits. Letting him fuck you against the kitchen counter. Letting his cock destroy you.

Him biting your lower lip and moving his big hands under your clothes made you moan against his mouth and make the wetness in your panties grow stronger. His hands were wandering underneath your shirt before they found what they were looking for, grabbing your tits, his thumbs playing with your nipples. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, down to your collarbones. You nails digging into his shoulders, you were sure you left a mark on him. But this was one of the things you loved. You marking his back with your nails, making sure to leave scars the next day for everyone to see. And him leaving hickeys on your neck and stuffing you with his cum everytime he fucked you, marking you as his.

"Fuck Miguel," you moaned as he ripped your shirt in two, throwing it away on the floor. You couldn't count the number of shirts he destroyed with his hands or his teeth. You could swear he had claws. As soon as your shirt was off, he attacked your tits, taking each one into his mouth, teasing you. His hand slipped down to your lower belly, playing with the hem of your panties. You moved your hips against his crotch, making him moan against your nipple. You loved how much control you had over him.

But after a while of his teasing, you ran out of patience, taking his hand and pushing it under your panties, his fingers quickly metting with your wet clit. You moaned at the sensation, closing your eyes as he started to move his fingers up and down your slit. Your hands travelled up his head to pull on his hair to hold yourself onto something. His lips moved back up to your neck as his fingers started to make circles around your entrance. You cried out, wanting nothing than to feel his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"So wet," he said, mocking you but not stopping the movement of his fingers. You leat out a whimper when his fingers moved away from your entrance, teasing your clit again. You decided to torture him too so you quickly put your hands inside of his pants, grabbing his thick cock, already covered in pre-cum. You smirked to yourself.

"You're worse," you managed to say before his fingers came back to your entrance, this time thrusting them inside of you. But even he couldn't contain himself as you started to pump him, bring your hand to your mouth, wetting with saliva before bringing it back, stroking him faster than before. The room started to be filled with moans coming from both of you, his fingers deep inside your cunt and your hand around his throbbing cock. Both of you felt your orgasm approaching and decided to stop. Unspoken rule. Cum only around his cock.

"Y/N, please," Miguel's whiny, begging voice almost threw you over the edge. His cock out, lying on his abdomen, his hair messy and forehead sweaty. Fuck, you could cum just from the view. You quickly pressed your lips against is, distracting him, before taking his cock back to your hands and aligning him with your entrance. You could feel the tip of his cock spreading you lips, having to contain yourself to not make any sounds. Like Miguel could read your mind, he pressed his lips against you harder, devouring you, giving you the chance to sit on him without making any noise. You listened and sat on him hard, his thick cock spreading your cunt, your walls almost crushing him. Both of you couldn't stay quiet and moaned into each other's mouths. His cock felt so good, so deep inside of you, spreading your little pussy. You could stay like this forever.

"Y/N, please move," he whimpered against your lips, encouraging you to move your hips, moving up and down. His cock sliding out of you, so satisfying to watch your cunt devouring him back. It's like he was made for you, to fuck you hard with his thick cock. His hands moved to your hips, helping you to bounce on him faster and faster. Your tits bouncing with every thrust, his hips moving up and down for more friction, for more pleasure. His eyes fixated on you, bouncing up and down, enjoying how his cock spread your tight little cunt, making you cry from the pleasure.

Your hands moved to hold your tits, your thumb playing with your nipples, not stopping fucking him fast. The room filled with moans, whimpers, and your ass meeting his balls.

"You feel so good," you cried out loud, feeling your orgasm approaching as you kept bouncing on him, sending waves of pleasure through your body. And Miguel decided to make it worse by bringing his two wet fingers to your cunt, rubbing your clit. You screamed at the sudden action, his other hand quickly covering your mouth. Tears running down your cheeks from all the pleasure, his fat cock inside of you while his long fingers kept rubbing your clit. Not to mention his large hand on your mouth, keeping you quiet. All of these things made you shake on his cock and with his next thrust into your cunt, your walls clenched around him, cumming hard. Your head fell on his shoulder, orgasm taking over your body. But Miguel didn't stop pounding into your cunt from below, causing you to cry from the overstimulation. Not so long after, Miguel reaches his peak too, his cum spreading into your cunt, filling you up.

Both of you sit there for minutes, trying to recover from your orgasms. His fat cock still inside of you, your walls surrounding him. You didn't want him to move, so you laid on him, pushing him to lay down on the matress, you lying on top of him.

His strong arms surrounding your body, still shaking after you fucked him hard. His fat cock staying in you, still spreading your tight cunt.

"After you recover," he whispered into your ear, biting into your earlobe, his voice now more firm and steady. "can we go round 2?"

You smiled to yourself, lifting up your head to look at him. Your lips lightly touching his. "See, if all your questions were like this, I wouldn't complain at all." You proclaimed before taking his head and kissing him once again.

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[ros3ybabe]

🎀 Overcoming Gym Anxiety 🎀

I got asked about this through my inbox by @sxfiaaa so I figured I'd make a post about it and hopefully help a lot of people with something I too used to struggle with!

🩷 Wear Comfortable Clothing

We've all seen the beautifully dressed people on Tiktok, Pinterest, etc in their matching sets and cutr gym clothes. If that is what you're comfortable wearing to the gym, do it! Wear it, and be confident in it! If you're more of a loose clothes/sweatpants/baggy shirts or hoodie type of person, do that! Wear whatever you feel comfortable (and cute) in, because the better you feel going into a workout, the more you'll be able to focus on your workout!

🩷 Know What You're Doing When You're There

This just means go in with a plan! You don't need to know how to use every single machine or do every single exercise known to mankind. Scroll tiktok or pinterest for some workout videos for inspo (please make sure the video you get inspo from shows proper form!!! Proper form is so important for being safe!!)

If you know you can go certain days of the week, make a workout split to follow that! EX 3 day split: Monday - Leg Day, Wednesday - Upper Body, Friday - Full Body

OR, if you just want to go do cardio, then plan for that! I didn't know how to use a treadmill, but I went to the gym at my university and stood on the treadmill til I figured it out!

🩷 Remember This

No one is going to look at you and judge you or think mean things about you. Everyone is at the gym for the purpose of bettering themselves and their health. If you find people giving you occasional glances, maybe it's because they don't recognize you from the gym (or they do recognize you from somewhere else), maybe their admiring your outfit/physique, maybe their avid gym goers who are watching your form and technique, or maybe their just zoned out and you happen to be in the line of sight.

When I'm at the gym, I look around between sets and take note on other people's form to see if maybe I should tweak the way I do a certain exercise, or I'm admiring another girls outfit or physique because there are a lot of beautiful women at the gym. Sometimes, I'm thinking "dang, they're lifting so heavy, how cool!" or "wow, their form is amazing, they really know what they're doing." I've never thought bad abut someone at the gym because why would I?

🩷 Don't Be Scared To Ask For Help

if there an exercise you really want to do but don't know how and videos aren't helping, ask someone around you who isn't in the middle of an exercise and looks like they may know. The guy at the gym doing upper body who has good biceps may be the right guy to ask about upper body exercises. The girl doing impeccable Bulgarian Split Squats might be the right person to ask for help with those types of movements. Just make sure they aren't in the middle of an exercise, because that can cause some unwanted issues, especially if they're mid-rep, that can turn into a safety issue.

People love to help people, especially at the gym. If you politely ask for help from someone, they may take it as a compliment that you think they look like a person who is knowledgeable on working out. I'd definitely be so flattered if someone asked me for help or advice at the gym!

🩷 Random Advice:

remember your why! no matter how anxious you are, remember why you're going! what are your goals, what do you hope to achieve, how proud will you feel after?

start small if you have to! if it's really anxiety inducing to start working out, make it your first goal to at least step into the gym. then 2nd goal, walk around the gym to get a feel for it. 3rd goal, maybe 5-10 minutes on a treadmill, and then keep building momentum each day.

be careful with the hours you go! there is such a thing as peak gym hours. It varies by place, but a lot of gyms are busy between 2pm and 6pm I've seen. I personally love going to the gym super early morning, it's a little less busy and I'm a morning person so it works out for me! If you can only go during peak hours, bring a friend or keep your headphones on and do your thing!

Bring a friend! If you're really anxious about going alone, bring a friend with similar goals! Sometimes it can be a lot nicer to learn something new with a friend then try and learn it on your own! Plus, it's like extra motivation and accountability!

Have a motivating pre workout routine. Play some music while getting ready, prep your bags, prep your playlist, get your workout itself figured out, and just keep yourself excited to go! I love blasting high-energy music that makes me feel like a baddie on my way to the gym.

I hope this was helpful!! My thoughts were everywhere but I tried to convey them as best as possible! I'm happy to answer any questions or offer more tips and advice, don't feel scared to ask! <3

til next time lovelies 🩷

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap IV

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Keira Walsh x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You finally meet Keira Walsh

You've spent the weeks running up to the group stages of the World Cup with the Swedish girls - for one of the first times in your life - but you flip flop between Morsa and Momma when you want to.

This is one of those times.

Momma's been put into a group with England, meaning Leah's team, meaning Keira Walsh.

It was a struggle this morning for Momma to put you in her Denmark shirt instead of a Keira Walsh England one.

Your Denmark loses and, even worse, Keira Walsh goes off injured. Your grandparents cover your eyes when it happens so you don't see her get stretchered off but you remain antsy the entire match afterwards, especially when Momma gets into a few scrapes herself.

You're allowed out of the box and onto the pitch when it's over and you tentatively approach Momma, pulling on her shorts.

"Does this mean Denmark stops playing?" You ask, biting at your lip.

"No, princesse," Momma says," So long as we win our next match, we can finish second in the table and get through to the knockouts."

You nod, pulling at your jersey. "So you're not too sad?"

"Only a little sad," She confirms, taking your hand with a smile," Come on, princesse, I think Rikke has some skildpadder just for you waiting in the locker room. How about we go eat our feelings?"

You smile as Momma brings you into the tunnel. "Morsa says that's unhealthy."

Momma winks. "I won't tell if you don't."

You giggle and nod, holding Momma's hand tightly just in case she really is upset about the loss and needs comfort.

"Luce!" Someone from the England side snaps," I can walk!"

"You're on crutches!"

"Yes! And I can walk!"

Momma seems a bit confused at the upset and hurries you along a bit quicker, hand moving to your shoulder to force you ahead of her and further down to the Denmark changing rooms.

"Hey! Wait! Harder, wait up!"

Momma stops, shoving you behind her a little bit. When you peer out from behind her legs, Keira Walsh is standing there. She's on crutches and looks to be in quite a bit of pain.

"Keira Walsh," Momma says neutrally, still keeping you pinned to her side," How is your knee?"

"Not good," Keira Walsh replies," It'll get better." She seems a bit distracted and she smiles down at you before looking over her shoulder. "Luce, G, mind helping me out here?"

Lucy Bronze and Georgia Stanway (you recognise her because Momma says that she plays at Bayern, where you all are going to be moving to after the World Cup) hold onto her as Keira Walsh takes off her shirt.

She smiles at you again. "Hi," She says," Er...Aitana sent your mums a picture with me in it. I...er...I heard she sent you some of my shirts as well."

You nod, stepping out from behind Momma.

"Well...here, I'd like you to have this one too."

"Really?"

"Course. Anything for my biggest fan."

You take the jersey and Momma helps you put it on.

You look up at Keira again, smiling. "Thank you."

Keira's smiling at you too even though she looks unsteady on her feet. "You'll have to return the favour one day, huh? When you're playing in a World Cup, I'll want your shirt too, okay?"

"How about that, princesse?" Momma says. She kneels down next to you, a hand on your shoulder. "Keira gives you her shirt now and you give her yours when you play at the World Cup. Seem fair?"

You nod. "Yeah!"

"I'll look forward to it," Keira says," I think that I'll be your biggest fan when you're older."

Your face grows a little bit red under the praise and you shift on your feet a little bit to dispel your excitement. "I don't know if I can give you my jersey when I win," You say a little apologetically," Because I already said that I'd give that to someone else. Maybe when I beat England though."

Keira laughs. "That's good by me."

Georgia Stanway laughs too. "It won't in a few years when she's scoring past us."

"I don't score." You shake your head quickly. "I save. Like Zećira."

"A keeper then," Keira says," Even better. I've never had a keeper shirt."

"I'm gonna be the best keeper," You say.

Lucy Bronze laughs and yells out," Oi! Mearps! Take off your shirt!"

Mary Earps, who has begun to make her way down the tunnel, frowns. "That's a terrible pickup line."

"Not for me," Lucy says," For Pernille's kid. She's going to be a keeper when she grows up. Says she's gonna be the best."

Mary Earps is a very good goalkeeper and, a bit like Keira Walsh, you're slightly star-struck. She smiles easily at you though and strips her shirt without a second thought, passing it over to you.

"Thank you," You say, practically whispering as you hold it tight in your hands. She's smiling at you and you feel a little bold wearing Keira's shirt and holding Mary's. "I'm going to be better than you."

It sets off a howl of laughter from Lucy and Georgia and a wry smile from Keira.

"God, I hope so, kid. I'll hold you to that."

"I will!"

Mary laughs too and crowds into your space as Momma snaps a photo before sending you off to the locker room to have your skildpadder.

"I think you all just made her week. It's all she's going to be talking about. I don't know if she'll sleep tonight."

Keira winces. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Magda's got her tonight."

[russellsppttemplates]

Dad!driver looking after mom!reader whe she's feeling overwhelmed with the baby.

Driver of your choice.

Tw: postpartum, breastfeeding

"Hey, little one, aren't you fussy today?", Daniel cooed at your daughter as he picked her up from her cot, holding her against his chest. Sophia seemed to be going through a rough patch in her sleep, or maybe you had said 'she's a very good baby, sleeps very well', outloud too many times and the universe ought to test you.

Like clockwork, you were up as soon as you heard her cries, shifting your position against the pillows so you could get her, "I have her", your husband said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb your sleepy state. Because Sophia had been struggling with sleep, you and Daniel hadn't been sleeping much either, the only difference being that he wasn't recovering from giving birth to a baby, so between you two, he was the one dealing better with the sleep deprivation.

"Come here, babygirl, I have just what you want", you stretched your arms, holding her and helping her approach her mouth to your nipple, "there we go, my love, it's all good", you smoothed put her head. Daniel excused himself, saying he was going to the kitchen to get something.

You had finished feeding Sophia and gotten up to burp her when Daniel got back, "I was on the phone with my parents, and grandpa Joe and grandma Grace are more than happy to take over and be with Sophia for the afternoon", he offered as he walked closer to you, "you've been stretching yourself thin, and I figured it would do you, and us, some good to have some help. Besides, mum and dad were excited for some cuddles", he attempted, checking any signs of you not agreeing to the idea, "they really don't mind?", you asked, "they don't", Daniel said as he kissed your forehead, "they'll be here in fifteen minutes".

When Joe and Grace arrived, your mother in-law kissed your cheek sweetly before whispering, "go and rest, darling. Don't listen to the voice in your head saying you're a bad mother because you'd like some hours away from her, it's completely okay. She loves you so much, and she wants you, and needs you, to be happy, too", she smiled, rubbing your shoulder as you and Daniel went upstairs while they stayed in the dowstairs area of the house.

"I was thinking we could go and have a shower, those 'everything showers' people talk about", Daniel suggested as he walked you inside your shared bedroom, "I got that set from the laundry room earlier this morning", he said as he kissed your shoulder as you looked at your favourite lounge wear set laying on top of your bed. It was soft and stretchy, so, really, it was the perfect fit for the time being.

"You really are the best, Danny", you whispered, turning around and kissing his lips, "I always try to make sure you know why you keep me around", he joked, picking you up and taking you to the bathroom.

Like he promised, Daniel turned the shower and walked in with you, helping you wash your body and grabbing the razor from your hands, helping you shave your legs before you did the rest, kissing his tanned skin afterwards as you both lathered shampoo in eachother's hair, "I love you so much, Y/N", he would whisper every time he felt like it, "you're the most gorgeous woman", another kiss was pressed on your skin, "the best mummy for Sophia, and the best partner in life".

"My sister said I should get this body oil and make sure you used it, so I think giving you a massage is the best way to guarantee that", he winked once you got out of the shower and wrapped yourselves up in towells, "just be careful around my chest, please", you said as you lied down, seeing Daniel's beaming smile. You had been slowly learning to love your body after having a baby, and seeing you grow so comfortable and proud of your body made him smile as he felt that in a way his words of encouragement and actions had been fruitful.

The massage was blissful and playful, too, giggles flying around in the room as you grabbed some of the oil and rubbed it on Daniel's skin, "thank you, for this, I wouldn't have admitted it, but I needed this", you mumbled, "Soph is downstairs, if they need anything, they'll call, and besides, they raised kids and grandkids of their own. Soph, even with her sleep all messed up, is still the quietest of the grandchildren", he chuckled.

Once your hair was dry, Daniel laid next to you in the bed as you fell asleep, hoping to sleep properly now that you knew your daughter was fine too.

You wake up from the nap to smell some delicious food, heading downstairs to see the table set up, Joe playing with Sophia on her tummy time and Grace taking a tray out of the oven, "I made roast chicken, that recipe you really like", she smiled sweetly before you walked closer to your daughter, "and for her, we took one of the frozen bags in the freezer", she said as she rubbed your back, "you're doing great, darling, she's such a happy baby", she comforted.

"Daniel is a great man", you began, "I know I keep telling you this, but it's true. You raised a great son, both of you did", you told Grace and Joe once Daniel grabbed Sophia and took her to her nursery to change her nappy and put her pyjamas on her, "you are both a great team, dear", Joe added.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[forhappysake]

Teach Me, Pt. 2

A/N: The second half of "Teach Me," in which a certain professor really wants to see you again. 5.8K words.

Warnings: professor!spencer x fem!reader, implied age gap, mentions of scars and an old gunshot wound, dom!spencer if you squint, use of nicknames (good girl), oral & unprotected sex (be safe ppl)

You silently thanked the universe that you wouldn’t have to see Spencer in class again until the next Tuesday. Though he’d slipped you into his pajamas, laid you in his bed, and woken you up with a kiss and a plate of pancakes on Friday morning before your final midterm, you knew you needed a few days to process this new development in your life. Not only had you slept with someone, but you’d slept with your professor. While you didn’t regret it, you knew you needed to sleep on it before you dove into anything too serious with him. 

All of it was a lot to consider, and Spencer knew that. He stood before you at his apartment door after you’d finished breakfast and slipped into some extra clothes you’d happened to have in the back of your car. He wore a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, not having to lecture on Fridays. “I’ll see you Tuesday” he reminded you as he got ready to send you out the door to campus that morning. “I’ll call you sometime next week to set up another date if you’re still open to the idea.”

You’d nodded, of course, wanting to see him again. “I would like to go out with you. This has been wonderful. I just-” You stumbled over your words for a second, causing him to raise his eyebrow at your evident hesitation. 

He reached out, placing both his hands on your shoulders as if to ground you for a moment. “Take a breath, tell me.” His brown eyes scanned your face, no doubt profiling you. 

You sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. “It all makes me a little nervous, you know. You said yourself, that our dynamic isn’t the most conventional. Just… give me a little time to get used to the idea.”

Spencer had offered you a small smile, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug. “I completely understand,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice echoing through his chest as you rested your head on his collar. “Don’t worry about it today. Go ace your midterm. We’ll talk more later.” 

You smiled up at him, thankful for his kindness as he reached around you to open the apartment door. He followed you down the stairs and out of the building without another word, watching you carefully as you climbed into your car. You waved as you started your engine, backing out of the parking spot in front of his building. Spencer smiled back before turning his back to the road and heading back inside his apartment complex, his mop of brown curls disappearing behind the glass doors. 

�� — —

The midterm had gone well. You couldn’t fault yourself for any mistakes, you surmised. You weren’t exactly focused on studying the night before, anyway. As you drove back to your apartment after the exam, you tried to take Spencer off your mind by focusing on what you were going to accomplish over the weekend. 

You accomplished very little. Aside from some basic cleaning and keeping up with your laundry, you spent the weekend struggling to keep Spencer off your mind. You thought about shooting a text message to his number, which he had kindly typed into your contacts before you left his apartment the other day. However, you held yourself back. You’d promised yourself that you’d take the weekend to let this all sink in and you figured it was better not to rush anything. 

However, by the time Tuesday came around, you were more than ready to get a look at your professor-turned-lover. You found yourself dressing up a bit more than usual, adding some additional curl to your hair and smacking on a thin layer of tinted lip gloss, slipping into a flowing skirt and a knitted sweater to keep you warm despite the cool spring breeze. You walked into the lecture hall, slipping into your usual seat, and getting out your notebook. 

Moments later, the side door to the lecture hall swung open and Spencer walked in. He was dressed in a plain black dress shirt with dark pants and an equally black suit jacket. As he made his way to the desk, his eyes flickered up at the audience. You met his eye and he offered you a small smile as he set his books on the desk. 

“Hello, everyone. I hope you had a good weekend.” He seemed quite chipper. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he talked. “I know I did,” Spencer added before turning his back to the audience and writing the day’s topic on the board. 

You could hardly hear a word he said as you focused on his hands. The prominent veins on the back of his hand were accentuated as his slender fingers slid the chalk gently over the board. Even when he was done writing on the board and turned back to the class, your eyes stayed transfixed on his fingers, remembering what they’d done to you only days before. 

“Y/N?” the use of your name snapped you out of your chance. Spencer furrowed his brow, walking across the lecture stage to stand straight in front of you. “Did you hear what I asked you?” 

“Uh-” you fumbled for a second, panicking as you looked to the board to see if you could deduce his question based on his writing. 

Spencer smirked. You’d been caught. He knew you were distracted. “I would encourage you to pay attention to this lesson, as this information will undoubtedly be on the final exam.”

You lowered your eyes, cheeks burning as you heard a classmate giggle behind you. “Yes, sir,” you mumbled. Spencer cleared his throat before continuing with the lesson. You did your best to copy the notes he wrote on the board, but your mind kept drifting back to your previous exchange with Spencer. You couldn’t help but wonder why he called you out like that in front of everyone, especially if you were the one who made his weekend so great. 

When class ended, you quickly packed up your materials and rushed out of the lecture hall. You avoided the gaze of the rest of your classmates, trying to escape without another mention of the period. As you stepped out into the hallway and walked out of the building, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Checking your screen, you saw his name on your screen. Oh god, you thought, Spencer Reid is calling. 

“Hello?” you answered, not slowing your pace as you walked to the parking lot. 

“Where’d you go? I was hoping I’d get the pleasure of seeing you after class.” You could almost hear the frown on his face. 

You sighed as you reached your car, fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock your car. “Why? So you could reprimand me for not paying attention. Trust me, calling me out in front of everyone was enough. I get it.”

“Do you?” Spencer asked. Just as he spoke, you looked up to see a figure leaning against your car. You gasped, dropping your keys in the process. Spencer stood with his back against your car. He smirked playfully, bringing his phone down from his ear and tucking it in his pocket. 

“How the hell did you beat me here?” you said, bending down to pick up your keys as you attempted to regain your breath. 

“I’ve got longer legs. You look beautiful today, by the way,” he said. You glared up at him as he took your backpack from you, slinging it over his shoulder. “Come with me.”

He turned around and started walking in the direction of the faculty parking lot. “Where are we going?” you asked. 

Spencer smiled. “I promised you a second date, didn’t I?” 

You furrowed your brow, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. “No, you said you’d call me to set up another date.”

He hummed in faux thought. “Maybe, but this is more exciting anyway. Don’t you think?” As the two of you reached his car, he tossed your backpack in the back seat before opening the passenger door for you. You hung back, a bit wary of what he had planned. 

Spencer could sense your unease. He approached you gently. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll take you back to your car and later we can plan something less spontaneous.” He paused before lowering his voice, “Really, I just wanted to see you. I’ll admit, I missed you this weekend. It took everything in me not to call you.” 

You met his eyes for the first time since you’d spotted him by your car. “Well, considering I was in the same boat,” you slid into the passenger seat, looking up at him, “take me away, Doc.” 

Spencer smiled, quickly shutting the passenger’s side door and jogging over to the driver’s side. Sliding in next to you, he leaned over to give you a soft kiss on the cheek. “And we’re off!” he said with a large grin on his face, putting his vehicle in reverse and pulling out of the university parking lot. 

The two of you rode in comfortable silence. Spencer drove you further away from the city, out into the country. You tried not to think too hard about where you were headed. After about ten minutes on the road, Spencer spoke first. “So, what did you do this weekend?” 

You audibly laughed, rolling your eyes. “Let me think,” you held up your fingers and counted off as you listed your very short list of achievements, “I did a load of laundry, I watched two terrible movies, and I did my best to take my mind off of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

He raised an eyebrow, taking his eyes off the road to make a quick glance at you. “Why would you want to take your mind off me? What else is there to think about?” he asked playfully, putting a smile on your face. 

You decided to change the subject. “What about you? What did you do this weekend?” 

Spencer offered you another playful glance. “Besides you?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as you whacked him on the shoulder. “Okay, okay,” he said, raising one hand in defeat. “I’ll have you know that on Friday I went to see the lovely philharmonic downtown and on Saturday I spent the evening with some coworkers from the Bureau.”

“Coworkers from the Bureau,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes. “Does one of these coworkers happen to be the one who gave you that pasta recipe from the other night?” 

Spencer nodded, “One and the same. I told him that my date rather enjoyed his recipe. He nearly choked on his drink when he heard I had a date.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. 

“Well,” Spencer stumbled with his words for a second as he tried to form an appropriate response. “I don’t exactly do this,” he waved his hand to gesture around the car, “a lot. In fact, I’m known for quite the opposite, I suppose.” 

You hummed in curiosity. “Does that mean I’m one of the few women who have been graced with the pleasure of experiencing the romantic side of you, Doc?” 

Spencer laughed, putting a hand on your thigh that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter faster than they had before. “You could say that,” he said. As fast as he’d put his hand on your thigh, he removed it, using both hands to turn the steering wheel into a parking lot off the side of the road, “and here we are.”

You looked away from his face for the first time in minutes to see where he’d taken the two of you. You were parked on the side of a hill, a drop-off on the other side of the parking lot enough to make your stomach churn. Despite the height, you were taken aback by the view overlooking the city and the way the colors of the sunset were bleeding across the evening sky. However, your eyes were quickly drawn to a building across from the parking lot. As Spencer stopped the vehicle, you swore you could hear music coming from the inside of the building. “What is this place?” you asked, nearly breathless. 

Instead of responding immediately, Spencer climbed out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, offering his hand as he helped you step out of the vehicle. “This,” he started, “is a very nice restaurant suited for a girl such as yourself.”

You slipped your hand into his as the two of you approached the building. He reciprocated, offering your hand a small squeeze as the two of you entered the restaurant. Though the lighting was dim, candles on each table gave the room a nice ambiance. A few couples were sitting throughout the restaurant. Your eyes were quickly pulled away from them when Spencer was approached by the hostess. “Did you have a reservation for tonight, sir?” she asked with a smile. 

“Yes,” he answered, “it should be under Reid.” The hostess nodded, inviting you and Spencer to follow her to a table in the corner of the room next to a large window with another breathtaking view of the city. 

As you slipped into the seat across from Spencer, you couldn’t help but joke with him, “I thought you said this wasn’t planned.” 

Spencer shrugged. “I figured if you said no, I’d just come here and get dinner myself. This is a hard view to beat,” he gestured to the window. You hummed in agreement, hardly noticing when a server approached your table. 

“Good evening,” the server started, “Could I get you both something to drink?”

Spencer ordered you both a glass of wine as the server provided you with food menus. “I’ll be back with those drinks and to get your orders,” the server said before walking away. You picked up the menu from the edge of the table, your jaw immediately dropping. 

“Dr. R- I mean, Spencer! The prices at this place are outrageous!” you said in a hushed whisper. Spencer waved his hand in dismissal, looking down at his own menu. Your eyes scanned the page in a panic, looking for some entree that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. 

He could tell you were still fretting over the price as he reached across the table and lowered your menu so he could look you in the eye. “Y/N, I’m a grown man with no dependents besides my mother. I’ve worked for the FBI for over a decade and I’ve been teaching at various universities on and off for years. Money is never an issue. Do you hear me?” You could tell he was extremely serious by the tone of his voice, so you only nodded silently and scanned the menu once more.

Your server reappeared with your glasses of wine and prepared to take your order. You asked Spencer to go first, during which time he ordered something to the effect of a cajun pasta. Your mouth watered at the thought. “I’ll have the same,” you told the waiter with a smile. The server took your menu and nodded before heading back to the kitchen area. 

Spencer sipped his wine quietly and you felt a sudden boost of confidence come over you. “So,” you started, “I want to know more about the famous and mysterious Spencer Reid.” 

He tilted his head in curiosity, setting his wine glass down on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, swirling the wine around in your glass, “where you grew up, about your family, maybe some tidbits about your past.” 

Spencer considered this request for a moment, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he started, clearing his throat. “I grew up in Vegas. My parents split up when I was pretty young. I never had any siblings.” 

You nodded, soaking in the information as you took a sip of your wine. “So, why the FBI? Why the BAU?” 

“My mother always told me I could do whatever I wanted. I had multiple degrees by age twenty. The FBI found me. I was lucky enough to be picked up by the BAU.” He narrowed his eyes in thought, turning his head to stare out the window, “Especially after my Mom got sick, I never had a real family experience. The BAU became my family.” 

You smiled at the sentiment, reaching across the table and covering his hand with your own. He looked away from the window, eyes a bit glazed as you rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. “They’re lucky to have you,” I said with a nod. 

Spencer gave a thoughtful smile, but as he was about to respond the waiter arrived at the table with your plates. You surveyed the dishes in front of you and when you looked back up, Spencer was still looking at you. “So, what do you think of the pasta?” he asked. 

You picked up your fork, twirling it on the plate and raising the fork to your mouth. “It’s wonderful,” you said with an enthusiastic look, “however, it’s not as good as yours.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, “You mean that?” 

You nodded. “This might be good, but it’s not authentic Italian cuisine from the Reid kitchen, inspired by some mystery FBI agent!” you joked. Spencer laughed, a genuine laugh that caused him to throw his head back. 

His curls fell gently in his eyes when he straightened his head up. Spencer brushed them out of the way, offering you a look at his lovely brown eyes. He took a bite of his pasta and gave a thumbs up in approval, washing it down with a sip of his wine. You stared at him closely, examining every feature you could in the warm lighting. It was the first time that you noticed a small scar on the side of his neck. 

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing to the spot on your own neck as you stared at the scar. Spencer reached his hand up, brushing some of his hair out of the way as he felt the place you were referring to. “Oh, I-” he stuttered, “I got shot once.” 

You raised an eyebrow, nearly spitting out your wine. Spencer shrugged. “Crazy things happen when you work for the Bureau. I’m sure you can imagine.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I can imagine,” you repeated, swirling your pasta on your fork. “However, I think it would be more fun if you’d just show me.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?” he said as he took a sip of his wine.

You leaned across the table, a surge of confidence driving your movements. “I’m asking to see all your scars, Dr. Reid,” you said lowly. “I’d love to know all your secrets.” He furrowed his brow as if confused before the true meaning of your words soaked in. 

“Well,” he said, setting his glass back on the table and removing the napkin from his lap. “I’d be happy to show you everything,” Spencer whispered. “Just, not here.” 

You giggled, tilting your head to the side in curiosity. “Does that mean you know a place?” you asked. 

He smiled, offering a shy nod. “I’d say so.” With that, Spencer hailed the waiter and quickly paid the bill for both of you before rising from the table. You allowed him to lead you out of the restaurant and back to his car. He opened the passenger door for you before walking around and sliding into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine. 

You toyed with the hem of your dress in anticipation. Though you’d already slept with Spencer once, you couldn’t help but feel a touch nervous. His implication from your previous night together echoed in your head: “There’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

After you arrived back to his apartment building, Spencer led you on to the elevator. The short ride up to his floor was completed in absolute silence. You glanced at Spencer, who was gently tapping his foot against the elevator’s floor, no doubt impatient to get back to his place. 

Entering Spencer’s apartment, you were struck by how clean it was. “Are you sure you weren’t expecting a guest this evening?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He slipped out of his suit jacket with a shrug. “Maybe I just wanted to be prepared in case a beautiful woman like yourself was kind enough to share the evening with me,” he said. You blushed at his words, turning your back to him in hopes to conceal the deep shade of crimson spreading across your cheeks. 

Spencer finished hanging his jacket on a hook by the door and you could hear his footsteps approaching from behind you. You turned to face him as he wraps his arms around your waist. You rested your hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. “What do you think you’re doing?” you asked playfully. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” he mumbled, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were soft at first, nearly exploratory, like he was unsure what to do next. However, he quickly found his rhythm, sliding a hand up your back to tangle in your hair as you stumbled backward into the nearest wall. 

He held you there, using your position against the wall to hold himself close to you, enjoying the small gasps and deep sighs that escaped from your lips as he removed his mouth from yours and began his pursuit down your body. His hands reached under the hem of your sweater, as he pulled it over your head and dropped in on the floor next to you before he continued his movements. Spencer’s lips traced a line down your neck before he dropped to his knees in front of you, simultaneously loosening the tie around his neck and tossing it on to the couch behind him. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, genuinely confused as you raised an eyebrow at him. 

Spencer ran his hands up your legs, pushing your skirt up over the apex of your thighs as you leaned back against the wall. “I’m getting my dessert,” he mumbled. 

Your mouth dropped open, a combination of his idea and his words catching you by surprise. “Here?! Against the living room wall?” you asked incrediously. 

Your shock seemed to pull Spencer back to reality as he looked up at you and laughed. He pulled his hands from your legs and positioning them at the hem of your skirt, “Sweetheart, we’re going to do everything on every inch of this apartment before the semester’s over.” With that, he pulled your skirt and underwear down in one movement, leaving your lower half completely bare before him. 

He tapped your thigh with his index finger. “Up,” he said. You did as you were told, picking your foot up off the ground. Spencer put his hand on the back of your thigh, lifting it up and placing your leg over his shoulder. Before you could register what was happening, he leaned forwards, burying his face in between your legs. 

You immediately moaned as he focused his attention on your clit, causing you to arch your back off the wall. He reached one hand up to hold your hips in place, while he used the other to trace your slit before sliding it into you. Spencer leaned back at that moment, watching your face as you fell apart in front of him. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, always intent on making sure you were enjoying yourself. 

“A-amazing,” you groaned. Satisfied with your answer, he slid another finger into you before continuing to lap at your core. 

You could feel the tightness in your lower stomach increasing with each movement he made, and you reached down to grip a handful of his brown curls. “I’m close,” you whined. Spencer didn’t respond, keeping up his movements and increasing the pressure he placed on your clit. The increased pressure along with the motion of his fingers inside you drove you over the edge, and you let out a loud moan as you came. Spencer, ever the gentleman, stayed in his place until you were finished. You gave his curls a final tug, letting him know you were completely finished before he relented, pulling away from you. 

Your legs shook as you tried to maintain your balance. Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you to the couch, allowing you to lay down to catch your breath. He sat down on the coffee table next to you, smoothing your hair away from your face. 

“How was your dessert?” you asked. 

Spencer laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Great, I had my favorite.” You leaned your head back, letting out a satisfied sigh before your purpose in all this popped back into your head. You quickly sat up from the couch, putting yourself at eye level with Spencer who remained perched on the coffee table. 

“I believe you promised to show me all your secrets, Doctor,” you said with a sly smile. Spencer sighed, rising from the coffee table and undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. 

He slipped the shirt off his shoulders, discarding it on a nearby chair along with his dress pants before standing before you in only his boxers. You took note of the many scars dotting his figure, letting out a sigh. Spencer caught you staring, raising an eyebrow at you. “What are you looking at?” he asked. 

You looked him in the eye. “You’ve had a rough life, Spencer Reid.”

He looked down at you thoughtfully, his dark eyes glimmering mischeviously in the dim light of his living room. “Maybe so, but I think I’m doing okay right now.” He leaned in to kiss you, this one much more passionate than the last. You let his tongue slip between your lips, exploring your mouth as you moaned into the kiss, the excitement of what was to come making your lower stomach tighten. 

“I’m about to be doing even better,” he whispered as he took your hand and led you down the hallway to his bedroom. When the door swung open, you were greeted by the familiar dark wood of his bed frame and the low light that shone throughout the green walls. 

The two of you stumbled back on to the bed, similar to the first night you’d been together. Thankfully already free of your clothes, Spencer climbed on top of you, reaching a gentle hand behind your back to unclasp your bra as you cast it aside on to the floor. He bent down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth as you groaned out. You ran a hand through his hair as he seemed to enjoy himself, sucking hickeys into your chest as he moved to the other side. 

After a moment, he stopped, crawling up so you were face to face. “I saw you staring in class today,” he whispered, leaning down to suck a dark mark into your neck. 

“You expect me not to?” you asked, struggling to form words as his stubble tickled your jaw and his hot breath splayed over your neck. He looked up at you through his lashes, your heart burst as you soaked in his dark brown eyes. “You look at me like that, and you don’t want me to be distracted?” 

Spencer smiled at you. “I know how easy it is to lose focus,” he murmured. “I have to teach with you in the room every day. You think it’s simple for me?” He pulled back from you, rising from the bed and pulling his boxers off, leaving him fully bare in front of you. 

Spencer reached for his dresser drawer, where you knew from your previous rendezvous that he kept his stash of condoms. In another surge of confidence, you sat up from your position, holding out an arm to stop him from opening the drawer. He looked at you with confusion, before he understood what you were implying. “A-are you sure?” he asked, a bit wary of the idea himself. 

“I’m on the pill. We’re both clean,” you listed. Spencer considered this for a moment before nodding, getting back to his previous thoughts. 

He climbed back on to the bed, pressing a passionate kiss to you lips as he wrapped your legs around his hips. “You think it’s fun for me to stand in front of the class and drone on and on about things I’ve had memorized for fifteen years?” Spencer pulled back, expecting a reply. You simply shook your head at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, mesmerized by his words. 

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re right. It’s not fun.” With that, he reaching between the two of you, lining himself up with your core before quickly pushing himself all the way in. The groan that left your lips was nearly animalistic, and Spencer swallowed the sound with another kiss. 

His pace was slow at first, his thrusts calculated and evenly timed, allowing you to get used to the feeling oncemore. After a minute, you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted him to ruin you. “More,” you gasped out, “I need more.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling back from you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you in half as he continued to pound into you at a faster pace. You could feel yourself getting close, and your orgasm was fast approaching when Spencer slowed his pace again. You almost cried out in frustration when he began speaking again. 

“Every day I walked in that lecture hall, and every day I’d have to see you there,” he said, punctuating certain words with particularly sharp thrusts of his hips. Your nails dug into his back as he continued to speak, his forehead pressed firmly against yours. “Do you know what I thought about each time I saw you?” he asked. 

You shook your head, hoping that the right answers would encourage him to reward you with an orgasm. He tucked his head into your neck as he continued driving into you. “I watched you walk in, set down your things,” Spencer murmured. “Then I had to watch you adjust that little skirt you wear, and all I could think of…” his pace picked up again, your moans nearly drowning out his final statement, “was how I’d rather bend you over the nearest desk instead.”

You nodded in quick agreement with everything he said. He reached between the two of you, rewarding your enthusiastic response by drawing tight circles on your clit as he examined your face. Sweat had developed on his brow, and a few stray curls stuck to his forehead. Spencer looked like a man starved, chasing some high he wasn’t quite ready to reach. “I bet you’d like that, huh? You want me to let everyone go early so I can have a private lesson with my star student?” 

You continued to nod, too fucked out and eager to reach your high to even consider the potential implications of what you were agreeing to. Spencer smiled down at you, an evil smirk on his face as he continued his movements. Your legs were shaking from the force of his thrusts and your impending orgasm. You were so close, you just needed something more to push you over the edge.

In a move you never would have expected, Spencer reached his free hand up to your throat. You stretched your neck out in an effort to show you consent. A wicked grin passed over his face as he tightened his hand, constricting your air as he offered you a final harsh thrust and emptied himself inside of you. His final words did you in: “You’re such a good fucking girl.”

With Spencer’s final utterance, the tension that had been building in you finally snapped. You came fast and hard, crying out his name into the otherwise relative quiet of his bedroom as his hips stilled inside of you. You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to gain your composure as Spencer laid on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. 

After a moment, Spencer pulled out of you, a shudder leaving your body as you tried to adjust to the emptiness. He sat up on the side of the bed, looking back at your bare figure laying on display for him. The sheen of sweat that coated both of you was evident in the low light of the room as you let out a nervous laugh. “That was-” you stuttered, not able to finish your thought. 

Spencer looked at you, brows furrowed. “Great? Terrible?” he asked, his dominate facade crumbling as you caught of tinge of concern in his voice. 

“Amazing,” you whispered, offering him a small yet sincere smile. The two of you sat in silence for a minute before he rose from the bed, offering you a hand. “Where are we going?” you ask. 

“No bath this evening, since it’s quite late,” he said, glancing at the clock, “but I think we both could use a quick shower before we go to bed.” You took his hand with a shy smile as he led you back to his bathroom, warming up the shower as you sat on the edge of the sink. 

You thought about the words he’d uttered minutes before, wondering if he had meant what he said about the lecture hall. “Did you mean what you said?” you asked. 

“About what?” he said, turning back from the shower to face you. 

“About watching me in the lecture hall… and about the… other stuff you want to do,” you said shyly, a deep blush settling into you cheeks. 

Spencer approached you, leaning on the bathroom counter with his arms on either side of your legs, caging you in. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes on yours offering an unwavering gaze. “Every word,” he said. “Which means,” Spencer pulled away from you, helping you step down from the counter and holding the shower curtain open for you, “that you, my star student, should stay after class when I dismiss early next week.” 

As your jaw dropped, Spencer landed a playful smack on your ass before climbing in the shower behind you, closing the curtain. This man will be the death of me, you thought.

[laundrybiscuits]

“It’s happening,” crows Dustin. “Eddie, it’s happening, it’s happening, she said yes!”

Eddie blinks up at him from the blankets. “Is…this about your little girlfriend, Henderson?” Is there a school dance coming up or something? Wait, it’s the summer, school’s not happening.

In a just world, Eddie Munson would never have to think about high school again; in a just world, Dustin Henderson would not have woken him up by breaking into his trailer at ass o’clock in the morning.

“No, man, Erica! Erica Sinclair! She’s gonna run a My Little Pony game for us!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns over to bury his face in his pillow. “Lock up when you leave,” he says, muffled.

———

He honest-to-god thinks it’s just a weird dream for the next few days. He’s almost completely forgotten about it when Mike corners him at work.

“You have to make her stop,” Mike says.

“Okay, Wheeler, two things. First: who am I making stop what? Second: I’m not making anyone stop anything. Really not my style, and also, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever this is.”

“You’re already involved! We’re all involved! We’re all, like, liable.”

“Right.” Eddie wipes his hands on a rag and ambles over. “Kid, you have got to start giving me some context here. What are we talking about?”

Mike gives him just the absolute bitchiest eyeroll any human being has ever mustered in the history of the world, and sighs noisily. “Erica wants to run a stupid game, and Dustin keeps encouraging her. Tell Erica and Dustin that we play Dungeons and Dragons with like, cool monsters and shit. Not some stupid game about ponies. It’s not even D&D, it’s a whole new stupid system that she’s making us learn.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s—a few things to unpack in that little speech, but Eddie can’t help the delighted grin spreading over his face. “That’s for real? The pony game? Shit, this is going to be the best thing ever. What system is she planning to run the campaign in?”

“Oh my god,” says Mike, and storms out of the garage.

———

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

Eddie wonders how complicated it is to file paperwork for adoption.

“Some of us like D&D,” says Will.

“Yeah, we don’t want your stupid generic whatever. We’re not playing,” Mike snaps.

“That’s not what I said.” Will looks annoyed with Mike, which has been happening a lot lately. Eddie’s glad the kid seems to be growing more of a spine; you can’t just let your tragic heterosexual crushes walk all over you, but that’s the kind of lesson every young gay needs to learn the hard way. “I’m fine with trying something new. I’m just saying, the next campaign after this should be D&D.”

“Sure, what-ever, nerds,” drawls Erica. “We’ll see how you feel after you experience the magic of Ponyland.”

Lucas puts his face in his hands when she says the magic of Ponyland and lets out a pitiful groan.

“Whoo!” cheers Dustin. “Let’s get started!”

———

It takes them a solid two hours to make their characters. Even Eddie, who’s been vaguely aware of GURPS since it was released a couple years ago, is struggling a little to adapt. It’s just been a while since he played anything but D&D, but he’s enjoying the change of pace. He likes this kind of challenge; it’s like figuring out how to play a familiar song in an unfamiliar genre.

Erica is not especially patient with them, but she’s clearly done her prep work, so Eddie thinks they all manage to get through the character creation process more or less the way it’s supposed to be done.

Steve gets back from work right when they’re putting the finishing touches on their characters. The way he blinks all sweetly confused makes Eddie think that Dustin was definitely lying about having permission to play here, and also that Dustin probably has a very troubling stash of keys to all their homes squirreled away somewhere.

“If I may, Lady Sinclair, I’d like to humbly suggest a ten-minute break?” Eddie says, before Steve can decide whether or not to be mad about this whole thing.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up while you still can,” says Erica. “Steve, I hope you got good snacks around here.” She makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the boys trip over themselves to follow her.

“I would die for that child,” says Eddie.

Steve laughs, low and a little tired. “Yeah. Um, me too.”

“So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Henderson didn’t actually clear this with you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “He might’ve said something last week? Sometimes when he’s on a tear, I just kinda let him talk.”

“Y’know, we’re at a pretty good stopping point for today, if you want us to clear out so you can get some rest.” Eddie can see the smudgy shadows under Steve’s eyes from halfway across the room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve peels off his vest. He’s wearing an entire perfectly normal shirt underneath, so there’s no reason for Eddie to hastily avert his eyes like Steve’s doing a damn striptease. “I might go take a nap, though. Gonna trust you not to let them burn down the place, got it?”

Eddie does a silly little salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. No hint of flame shall breach these walls.”

Steve laughs again, a gravelly chuckle, and musses Eddie’s hair on his way to the stairs.

“Why do you have that dumb look on your face,” says Erica suspiciously, standing in the kitchen doorway and clutching the biggest bowl of ice cream Eddie’s seen in his life.

“What look, there’s no look,” says Eddie. “Let’s play some GURPS.”

Edit: now a complete fic on AO3!

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Thursday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Flowers for my love. Jungkook is trying absolutely everything he can to get you back. No matter how ridiculous it might seem. Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 3.2k (longer one this time lol) a/n: So I haven't posted anything for this series in almost a month so I'm really really sorry for that. I have so many other series going at this point that it's taken me a second to come back around and write for this one again. This one is a little bit longer to hopefully make up for it. Let me know what you think! p.s. Pretty much wrote all of this is one night so I hope it's not complete crap but I thought it was cute hehe Start from the beginning

Jungkook's visit yesterday threw me for a loop to say the least. 

I've tried to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't get to me but no matter how many pep talks I give myself or how many times I've tried to scold myself instead, nothing works. 

I miss him, and I hate myself because of that. 

I've been able to go through my morning and most of my afternoon with radio silence from him which has been incredible for my stress levels but I can't help but feel his absence more and more as time goes by.

He was hardly ever around for the last few months of our relationship so I don't know why his presence; which I had specifically chose not to have around now almost feels more painful. 

"Maybe I just need a walk" I say out loud "Yeah a walk and some fresh air should clear everything up" I continue, trying to lie to myself in thinking that some sunshine might actually fix this. 

Walking out of my apartment and heading straight to the subway I make a decision to go to a little cafe that I used to go to with my classmates. It's been a while since I've been there and their strawberry crepes were to die for from what I remember so I think it's time I treated myself to something nice.

~~~~~~~

Leaving the station I notice a big crowd starting to  gather around and I get a glimpse of what they're all staring at, seeing that it's some guy getting picked up off the ground and rolled out on a gurney. 

Taking a closer look, believing that I somehow know them, I feel the need to make sure they're okay but I'm stopped by the police tape they've put up. 

Once the guy's head turns towards me my eyes widen in horror seeing that it's Jungkook. "Wait! Wait! Jungkook! Wait that's my boyfriend!" I say and duck under the yellow tape not bothering to worry about the repercussions. 

When he hears my voice and opens his eyes and I see them quickly change from seeming like he had been on the edge of life and death into his big doe ones, sending me a bright smile, showing zero sighs of distress anymore and leaves me stopping in my tracks.

"CUT" I hear someone shout in the distance. "Who is this girl and why is she on my set?" the same voice say as they gradually get closer. 

"No one" I say, crossing my arms over my chest and see Jungkook give me an awkward smile in response. I scoff and don't bother listening to no doubt the director trying to speak to me and from the small bits I catch onto it sounds almost as if he wanted me to complete the scene. 

"Not interested" I mumble and walk off, ignoring their efforts to keep me there. "Baby wait!" I hear Jungkook say as he struggles to get the belt they had fastened off of him. 

I don't even bother responding and continue to make my way down the street to the cafe, praying that he won't follow me but it seems as though the universe is laughing at me because despite the growing crowd around us he still is able to keep his eyes on me. 

"Y/n wait! Please!" he yells, making sure that there's no way possible that I couldn't hear him but I choose to ignore him nonetheless. "Please Noona wait!" he continues, using a word that he knows will get a reaction out of me and my steps stutter for a second but I regain my balance seamlessly and pick up the pace seconds after. 

"Excuse me, sorry. Excuse me, thank you" I hear him say, continuing to use that loud voice letting me know that he's still on my tail but as soon as I get to a crosswalk I start to walk a bit faster, hoping to cut him off and lose him when he hopefully gets stuck waiting for the next light and luckily this time it works. 

I take a quick glance behind me to check and see him standing there catching my gaze and turning to a flower vender beside him and buying a bouquet of sunflowers, my favorite flowers during this time of year and I know he didn't just get them randomly because no matter how much I think he doesn't pay attention or care about our relationship I know he makes sure he knows the little things about me.

And that's one of the things that makes me want to take him back. 

"Y/n wait! Please" he yells and I turn around just in time to see him decide to take a risk and cross the street without waiting for the light and seconds later I hear the sound of tires screeching on the pavement and see Jungkook duck out of view. 

"Jungkook" I whisper, stopping dead in my tracks, my body totally frozen at the thought that he might've gotten hit. 

Moments later though I see the sunflowers resurface above the crowd and his head soon after that and I watch the exchange between him and the driver and then soon see him turning back to me and abandoning the conversation to start running after me again. 

"Wait!" he says and I turn on my heel to keep going, hating the fact that I've already lost the distance I had gained between us. 

I duck into a random shop in hopes that he'll somehow lose sight of me and walk right past it, losing me and hopefully letting me resume my intended relaxing day to myself. I'll just stop by the bakery instead and make my way home so I can head in the opposite way of what he probably had expected me to be going in. 

As I hear the shopkeeper welcome me I quickly return their greeting and hide behind one of their shelves, picking up a random book and holding it up to my face. Making sure it's open and covering me just enough for him not to notice, but also giving me enough visual to see him pass by and continue his search in the opposite way, just as I had planned. 

I watch as he walks past the store, frantically turning his head in all directions to see if he could finally catch sight of me again and to my delight he continues on the path he had seen me on a few minutes before. 

I let out a deep breath at the sight and put the book down, finally gaining some of that peace of mind. 

"Were you looking for anything specific dear?" the older shopkeeper asks. "No not really, I was just trying to lose my tail" I say pointing towards the window. "My ex boyfriend has been trying to get me back and he won't stop trying to talk to me so we can 'Talk things out' or whatever" I say, letting out a huge sigh, happy to get a chance to talk to someone at least a little bit. 

"Well have you given him a chance to say his piece yet?" she questions, leaving me shocked, expecting her to side with me. "Well...no, but we've gone through these sorts of problems before and I just don't want him to say something that will convince me to give him another chance again" I say, walking towards her and leaning on a shelf nearby. 

She takes a second to think before responding and says something that I was hoping she wouldn't. "You need to give him a chance to at least say something. Everyone deserves closure don't you think?" she says with a soft smile, hoping to get through to me. "Unless he's violent or something of that sort. Then he can go fuck himself" she says with a grin, already knowing that's not the case. 

I open and close my mouth a bit, not really knowing how to respond and she laughs at my reaction, loving how much she's caught me off guard. "He was the young man that just passed by with those sunflowers wasn't he?" she says with a knowing smile. "How did you-" I start out but she cuts me off with another laugh. 

"That boy had the most adorable panicked look, searching here and there as if he had lost his owner. He's quite handsome if you ask me" she say winking at me and making me blush a bit at her straightforward nature. "Give him a chance love. And if you let him go, then you let him go. Trust me, you don't want to deal with the what ifs if he stops trying" she says giving me a soft smile. 

I know she's right and I know I should at least hear him out but at this point I think it's something I've gotta work my way up to. His all or nothing attitude right now is just too much for me. 

"You're right. I'll take some time and when I'm ready I'll sit down with him to talk it all out. Thank you. Oh I'm sorry I should probably get out of your hair. Uh" I stammer at the end, feeling guilty for taking up so much of her time. 

"Um here, can I buy this?" I ask, placing a little bear with a lavender flower embroidered on it's collar on the counter, grabbing the first thing I laid eyes on. It can't be more than four inches tall with it's cute round belly and a little sun hat on it with the ears sticking through it. 

"Keep it" she say, not even bothering to offer room for discussion as she walks away from the counter. "It's full of lavender petals so keep it close and the smell will help calm you down whenever you need it. You might even want to hold it close when you're talking to that boyfriend of yours" she says with a wink and walks to the back of the store, disappearing behind a shelf, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

I pull out my wallet and put a five dollar bill in the tip jar and take a second glance at the bear and hold it up close to my face, breathing in it's sweet and slightly musky fragrance. I smile down at it's cute little face and put it in my purse. 'I've never been in this bookstore before' I think to myself, now finally taking a second to check out the rest of the interior beyond the immediate storefront. 

I make it a note to come back here one day and return her kindness by bringing something for her to repay her not only for the bear but also for her hospitality and advice.

I take one last glance around and turn to make my way out. 

"You certainly took your time in there" I hear a familiar voice say beside me, leaving me holding my breath for a second at the scare. "Jungkook" I say placing my hand over my chest before using that same hand seconds later to wack his arm making him drop the flowers he had started to hold out for me to take. 

"Hey! What was that for?" he whines, rubbing his arm for a few seconds and picking them back up. "That's for not only scaring me just now, but also scarring me earlier today with that stupid ambulance nonsense" I say throwing my arm out towards what I now know as being a stupid movie set and when I turn back to face him all I can see is a big grin on his face. 

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" I question crossing my arms over my chest. "You know you called me your boyfriend back there right?" he says, his smile growing even wider. I scoff at the memory and don't even dignify his words with a response, turning and making my way back to the bakery just as I had intended as my plan B.

"Wait Noona please" he says and places a light grip on my arm. "What?" I spit out, turning to face him again, a look of displeasure on my face which somehow makes him smile even wider. "Can I at least walk you home?" he asks, poised in anticipation. 

Now that the shop keeper had equated him to a dog I can't help but notice how much he's been giving off golden retriever energy these past few days. Excited and begging for my attention no matter what I say.

"I'm not going home" I say pulling my arm out of his grasp but he grabs onto my hand this time instead, making me stop again, knowing that as much as I want to, I'm probably not going to get my way this time. "Can I walk you to wherever you're going then?" he questions, now completing the look with his puppy dog eyes that pull on my heartstrings every time.

"Fine" I say and he happily catches up to me after deciding to hand the flowers off to some guy and his girlfriend, knowing for a fact that I won't take them. For a second I don't even realize that he had decided to hold my hand again until he sways them back and forth a bit making me rip mine out of his grasp and opting to cross my arms over my chest instead, leaving it hard for him to try to grab onto me again. 

~~~~~~

Walking up to the bakery a few minutes later I stop and face him for a second hoping to shoo him away. "Okay, you can leave now" I say and take a few steps but I still feel his presence close behind me. "Why are you following me?" I ask turning around again, not amused at the fact that he's not listening to me. 

"Who said I was following you? I wanted to get something from here too! You know I like the chocolate donuts here, remember?" he says giving me a soft smile. "Fine" I mumble and reach for the door handle but before I can his hand reaches for it and opens it for me. I spare him a glare and he sends me a sweet bunny smile in return making me roll my eyes in response. 

I walk in and when he tries to do the same he notices a group of older woman making their way out and he waits to hold it open for them as well and I can't help but roll my eyes again, watching him continue to play the sweet loving gentlemen. They smile and thank him a few times in return which he responds with a smile and once they're finally out he heads inside intending to stand next to me in line but is cut off by a few people between us leaving me smiling in victory but it doesn't last long. 

"Excuse me sorry do you mind? I'm with her" he says pointing towards me leaving me widening my gaze and turning around but not fast enough for the others to notice if he's lying or not. "Yeah, sure" one of the guys says and they step aside and let him walk up to me but in the process of squeezing through he stumbles and falls into me a little bit, leaving him latching onto me, pressing me up against the wall I had been leaning against. 

"S-sorry Noona" he apologizes, ears turning red clearly embarrassed at our current position. "It's fine" I grumble and push him off of me, creating some much needed space and walking up to the counter where they're waiting for the next customer. 

"Hi can I get a raspberry donut and a ham and cheese croissant? Thanks" I say and the worker looks over at Jungkook as he is standing next to me and waits for his order. "Oh we're not, we're not together" I say tripping over my words, this being the first time I've said that in front of someone while he's standing right next to me. 

The worker looks between us and draws what I can assume is a line under my order that she's written down and then asks for Jungkook's which he orders just what he had said before, a chocolate donut. 

"Thank you" he says warmly and the worker looks between the two of us, not believing my words from before but smiles almost amused by our situation and tells us our orders will be right out before handing the paper over to the cashier where she gives me my total. 

Before I'm even able to reach for my card though I see Jungkook place his phone on the card reader to pay. 

"Hey!" I say in protest while Jungkook tells her to ring him up again for his donut as well. I decide it's useless arguing with him in public and walk off to the side to wait for our food. "I can pay for my own food" I grumble as he walks up to me. "I know, but I wanted to" he says simply and we wait in silence until they hand us our bags. 

"So where are you going now?" he asks, holding the door open for me again and jogging after me, having to hold the door for the next person again. "Home" I say and make my way to the subway entrance. "Can I walk you home?" he asks, already knowing the answer but trying anyway. 

"No Jungkook. You can't. You asked if you could walk me to wherever I was going next but that isn't an invitation to follow me around for the rest of the day. Just leave me alone." I say, the last part not as confident as the rest. "I just want to make sure you get back safely" he offers and at that my blood starts boiling. 

"I'm more that capable of taking care of myself! I don't need you to babysit me because last time I checked I was the one that was older than you" spit out at him, pressing a finger on his chest. Getting more and more irritated with every breath and watch as his eyes get wide, surprised by my sudden hostile nature. 

"I'm s-sorry I didn't think tha-" "And that's exactly what your problem is. You don't think about what I want or even what I don't want. Now will you please leave me alone? I don't want to deal with this today and I don't want you to follow me" I say, punctuating my words so it'll get through his thick skull. 

He opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off again before he makes me even more upset. "Don't" I say and walk away, throwing my food away in the nearest trashcan and descend down the step into the subway station, hoping and praying he doesn't follow me. 

This time around though the universe smiles down at me, granting my wishes but leaves behind a broken and beaten down Jungkook, truly trying to figure out how everything went so wrong. 

Wednesday / Friday Series Masterlist

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