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sunnami · 7 months

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you'd be the love of my life when i was young

summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)

tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)

They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.

What a load of bullshit.

You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate.

There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months.

Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.

Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room.

And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them.

Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them.

(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.)

Were you dying?

That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees.

No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends.

That was absurd.

You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.

(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”

You huffed.

Maybe you’d try Severus next.

Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.

Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)

Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.

“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?”

Ba-dump!

Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.”

Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares.

(And you were. If only you knew.)

“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius.

Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.”

“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.”

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it at all.

Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.

James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.”

“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.

“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.”

Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins.

(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.)

Something stirred deep in your belly.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”

People could get the wrong idea.

You could get the wrong idea.

“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.

You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.”

“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head.

“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.

“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.”

They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart.

James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily.

“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat.

“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.”

“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words.

“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder.

“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.”

You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression.

(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)

“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)

But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.

“I’m fine.”

As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization.

You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends.

And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship.

Who were you to get in the way of that?

—

They would understand, you convinced yourself.

They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace.

But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise.

If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it.

Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs.

It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests.

(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.”

You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.”

“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.”

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.

“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”

“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.”

Oh.

You were well and truly screwed.

“Thanks,” You croaked.)

But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses.

(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?”

You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”

Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”

“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.”

Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”

But only the wind replied.

Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat.

“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.”

You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone.

You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”

It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too.

You didn’t go to his match later that day.

It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)

Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own.

You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”

“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”

You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!”

“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.”

“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.”

“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.”

“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.

Still, you missed them.

“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”

Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”

You cried louder.

“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”

Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”

Narcissa glared at him.

Lucius raised his arms in surrender.

Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?”

You nodded weakly. “I love them.”

“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?”

“I love them!” You hiccuped.

“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.”

“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob.

Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much.

“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.”

—

Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready.

Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes.

Did you have a place with them?

You were about to find out.

“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.

(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.)

“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you.

Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you.

Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”

You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month.

A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist.

“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain.

(You made him feel unafraid of the moon.)

“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”

“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this.

“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested.

“Because you don’t feel the same.”

The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along.

“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”

“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”

“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.

James only smiled, stealing your third kiss.

Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory.

(You were art that he wanted to worship.)

He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”

He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.”

“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.”

You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.”

Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.”

You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?”

You nodded. “P-Please.”

Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.”

He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips.

Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath.

You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.”

Then, Lily captured your lips with her own.

She tasted like happy endings.

note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #reader insert #marauders imagine #hp fluff #hp angst #marauders fluff #marauders angst

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breadbrobin · 4 months

Text

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo x reader #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

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redstarwriting · 10 months

Text

shit happens

spider squad x platonic!reader

request?: yes

request: “Okokok, first of all CLASH WAS SOOOO GOOD OMGGI come bearing a request only if u want to. Teen!spider!reader who is Miguel’s favorite because they don’t cause him trouble. But it’s only because they get severely anxious when they break rules (I’m not projecting, you are). So he assigns them to go on a mission with the problem children hoping they’ll rub off on them, but the problem children just corrupt them. I just need more spider children being chaotic together and tired spiderdad MiguelMwah mwah love ur writing )pls only write this if u feel like it)”

requested by: anon

word count: 2k

genre: platonic

Warnings: language, anxiety, Miguel being unrealistic with his expectations, electrocution, spider squad gettin thrown around

A/N: omg wait no bc same HAHA as someone with diagnosed severe generalized anxiety i get so anxious to break the rules even though my spirit always tells me to lol, i hope you enjoyed this anon! thank you for the request :)

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You were the golden child. There were quite a few teens in Spider Society, but you were by far Miguel’s favorite. And that’s all because you did what he said. Now did that mean you never questioned his authority? Of course not, you questioned him all the time. But you were too nervous to go against him. You were too nervous to go against anyone. It’s proven a problem in your job since the police are not your biggest fans, but luckily you befriended a nice police captain who eases your fears every now and again. Your weekly visits with Spider-Therapist have been helping with the problem, too. Which is great for you. But you still did what Miguel said. Mans could be scary.

And that’s how you ended up here. With Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales, and Pavitr Prabhakar. There was an anomaly that needed taken down in Hobie’s world, and Miguel stuck you with the four of them. To say you were nervous was an understatement. “Right, so anyone got a plan?” Hobie asks, in his thick accent. “What? What do you mean, dude, we’re in your world,” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “So? Not my villain, dunno ‘ow to stop ‘im.”

“Okay, well we know that he’s an electro variant, so… what can we do with that?” Gwen asks, and Pav sighs. “Be electrocuted,” he says sadly. “Miles can handle that,” Gwen says, and Miles snaps his head toward her. “Miles cannot handle that! Why are we saying Miles can be electrocuted?!” Miles yells, and the other three shush him. “’ow ‘bout you, mate, any ideas?” Hobie asks you, and you shrug. You look around before pointing up to the water towers on the roofs of the multiple buildings in New London. “Water,” you suggest, and they all look where you’re pointing. “Smart,” Gwen says with a nod. “How do we get the water to him, though?” Pav asks, looking at you again. You frown. “I… actually didn’t think that far.”

“Well, ‘at’s, easy. We just bust ‘em. Get ‘im to fly near one and,” Hobie makes an explosion noise and uses his hands to imitate an explosion. “What? But what about all the people who will lose water?” you ask, and Miles cocks his head to the side. “It’ll get fixed fast, probably. It’s our job to fuck shit up and then have other people fix it cause if we don’t fuck shit up, shit gets fucked anyways,” he says, and you sigh. “But Miguel said to try and not cause too much of an issue—”

“Oi. Who gives a flyin’ fuck what ‘e said. Not me. And this is my bloody world, I’ll cause as much damage as I want to,” Hobie says, and you look down. “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, mate,” Hobie says, and you mumble another ‘sorry.’ “You know what? I think Electro can wait a minute,” Hobie says, turning towards you, “More important matters to figure out ‘ere.”

“Like what?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Why are you so nervous?” he asks, and you gulp. “I-I’m not, I just—”

“You definitely are,” Gwen says, and Miles throws in a ‘yup!’ with a nod. “Is it us?” Pav asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. “W-What? No, that’s not it,” you say, waving your hands in a frantic way to say no. “I just am nervous in general. It really isn’t that big of a deal, guys, we should be focusing on—”

“Nope. You’re not gettin’ outta this, you been in ya ‘ead this ‘ole time.”

“I’m always in my head, it really isn’t that big of a deal—”

“Is ‘at why you try to avoid everyone? Don’t talk to no one?” Hobie asks, and you gulp. “I-I talk to some people…” you mumble, and a small frown forms on Gwen’s face. “The therapist in Spider Society doesn’t count,” she says, and you look down. “Well, why not…? He’s a person...”

“Because he’s like 40, and you’re our age,” Pav says, “you’d get along better with us, bro.”

“Miguel said that if anyone could make us not as ‘moronic’ it would be you, but I feel like he just kinda takes advantage of you instead of recognizing the pressure he puts on you. I have some experience with that,,” Miles says, and you sigh. “He scares me, okay? If I break the rules then I might simply pass away from him yelling at me,” you say, and Hobie shakes his head. “Love, the rules are all bollocks. Made by people who just wanna control your life.” Gwen nods. “Miguel is cool, sure, but if anyone can get away with anything… it’s you,” she says, and Miles chimes in. “And if you’re really that scared, remember he literally chased me around his world and destroyed a train because of me. You’ll never piss him off to that point.” You stay silent, playing with your fingers. Pav reaches out and grabs your hands. “Rules are meant to be broken, (Y/n), I learned that from Hobie. And besides, the villains we face are the biggest rule-breakers imaginable,” Pav assures, and you nod slightly. “And rules are such rubbish. ‘ey’re always different anywhere ya go. Try not to put so much weight on your mind ‘bout it, breakin’ ‘em ain’t a big deal,” Hobie says. You do actually kinda feel better. Hobie brings up a good point. Rules are different everywhere you go, so breaking one every now and again isn’t that big of an issue. In fact, it can be kind of encouraged. “Besides, breaking rules is almost like challenging ideologies, you know? Like, in breaking a rule, you challenge a system in place that is telling you not to break them. No one likes that. Where would we be if people didn’t break rules?” Gwen says. “That was deep,” Miles says, and Pav nods. “'at was a wicked way a’ puttin’ it, Gwendy.”

That’s a good point, actually. You think for a bit. If you look at it as challenging a system, or even doing what’s right, who’s to say it’s a rule that shouldn’t be broken? Hobie smiles underneath his mask because he knows they’ve gotten through to you. “So, whaddya say we go blow up some water tanks, eh?” Hobie stands, rubbing his hands together. “Okay,” you say. Gwen and Miles fist bump, and Pav does a little clap. The five of you jump into action, immediately starting to taunt and lure Electro to get him close to the towers so you can douse him and put him out.

The plan was going pretty well for the first two attempts, but he eventually catches on to what the five of you are doing. Which makes it harder. Miles does, in fact, get electrocuted. As does Gwen and Hobie, and coming in as no shock to anyone, Miles is definitely the least affected. You were able to dodge all of the attacks. “You’re doing great, (Y/n)! Mind telling me how the fuck your spidey sense is so strong?!” you hear Miles yell. “MILES LOOK OUT!” Gwen screams, but it’s too late. He gets electrocuted again. “Ouch, bro! That one looked like it hurt!” Pav yells, and Miles, who is now lying face down on a roof, raises his hand up in the air, flipping him off. You snort, and then see Hobie fly past you, landing on another water tower. “Hey! Dumbass! Over here!”

“Oh, please. You expect me to fall for that? I know what your little plan is, and I’m not about to be put out,” Electro says, firing some electricity out at Hobie. Unluckily for Hobie, it breaks the water tower and electrocutes him and the water that pours out of it.

You land next to Hobie, who is now just laying on the rooftop, but he grunts and mutters some British slang that you wouldn’t understand even if he explained it to you. So, you know he’s fine. “I have an idea,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we need to make sure no one is on the street.”

“What’s the goody-goody plannin’ on doin’, huh?” he says, standing. “You’ll see, just make sure there are no civilians or anyone who will get hurt. And keep him distracted.” With that, you leap and go to another one of the water towers. You take a deep breath, thinking back to what Miguel said before the five of you left.

“Try not to destroy the city while you’re at it. (Y/n), I trust you’ll keep them all in line,” Miguel said, and you timidly nod. You’d love to not destroy the city, but it’s so hard doing that as a Spider-Person. But you also don’t want him to yell at you for going against his orders. Now you’re conflicted. “No promises, Miguel. We’re gonna do what we gotta do,” Miles says and Miguel sighs. “If anyone can reign the four of you in, it’s this one. Don’t let them pressure you into acting up, okay?”

You frown. Fuck that. Miguel is pressuring you into not doing your job right. You can’t always be perfect and careful. And lucky for you, the four of them were really good at distracting villains. You web two of the support legs, yanking them and breaking them off the water tower. It starts collapsing, but you catch it. “Shit, you’re heavy,” you grunt, but regain your balance, holding it on your shoulders. You twist your body, ripping the other supports off and making the water tower completely free. You get Electro in your sight and take a deep breath. You lift the water tower, tossing it up in the air before leaping out of the way and towards Electro. You shoot webs from both hands, connecting them to the water tower and yanking it towards you. You swing it around, connecting it with Electro’s body. Sure enough, it knocks him down and explodes on impact, drenching him. And you. And Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pav; but hey, you did it.

You land on a roof and look down. Sure enough, Electro is knocked out cold and completely out of electricity. You swing down, placing him in one of the technological cells that Miguel developed specifically for Electros, and nod. “That… probably could have gone better,” you mutter to yourself. Your self-deprecating thoughts were cut off immediately. “That was AWESOME, (Y/n),” Gwen says, giving you a thumbs up and hug. “Yeah, little Spider, that was bitchin’,” Hobie says, giving you a fist bump. “You made it look so easy! How did you do that, you have to teach me!” Pav says, clearly excited and impressed. “You were out here talking about how you didn’t wanna break rules so instead you broke an entire water tower? That’s cool, why don’t you try being less cool next time for the sake of us,” Miles says giving you a pat on the shoulder. You smile. “Thanks, guys.” Their praise was enough to make you feel better for completely and totally wreaking havoc.

But when the five of you return, soaking wet, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said… to not destroy the city…” he mutters, looking at you with disappointment. You look down. “City’s still standin’, mate. (Y/n) kicked ass,” Hobie says, and the other three make sounds of agreement. “Y-Yeah, Miguel. All I did was break one water tower, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say, and he sighs. “One? You all broke four water towers on four different buildings! And you flooded an entire street! You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Dude. I’m a teenager. Shit happens,” you say, a sudden burst of confidence from being around the group of four allowing you to speak out. Miguel puts his hand on his jaw, sliding his hand down. “Remind me to never team the five of you up again,” he mumbles, and Hobie elbows you. “Nah, we’re a band now. Sorry ‘bout it,” Hobie says, motioning everyone to leave Miguel’s sight. You all follow. When you’re out of Miguel’s office, Hobie bumps your shoulder. “See, that wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

He was right, it wasn’t that bad.

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#spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderpunk #spidergwen #hobie brown #gwen stacy #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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chrisevansonly · 5 months

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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 (𝐫𝐮𝐞’𝐬 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 1)

𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it’s your little girls first time experiencing snow and charles couldn’t be more excited to share that with her and with you

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: non super fluffy!!

𝐀/𝐍: HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON!!!! omg i’m so excited for this christmas celebratory little fanfic party time!! i love christmas and what better way to start it off than dad! charles 🥰🥰

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Lyla Marie Pascale Leclerc was quite honestly the cutest little five month, almost six month old in the whole world, and of course as her mother and father you both weren’t being biased at all.

She was a late summer baby so when the holiday season began to come around Charles couldn’t help but become more excited at the fact that his little angel would be experiencing her first snow. Not to mention her first Christmas and you’ll admit you’d been getting in the spirit and looking forward to it, but Charles, well he took it to another level

“Lyla, regarde maman mon ange…” (lyla, look at mommy my angel)

You stood in front of Lyla, your phone out as she sat in the snow, her hands hitting the ground as she squealed happily

“Are you enjoying the snow baby girl?”

Honestly her squeals could cure anyone’s sadness, especially as she looked up at her father, Charles melting as she reached up at him

“Is it cold? You ready for papa to carry you around again?”

“She noticed you weren’t busy enough, you’re back to carrying duties my love”

Charles smiled, picking her up off the ground before coming over to you so he could place a kiss to your lips, Lyla whining as you got the attention she wanted

“Oh was maman stealing papa’s kisses? I’m sorry little love” you cooed softly kissing her forehead, effectively returning the smile to her face, that only amplified as Charles pressed kisses around her face

“Maman is all left out now..”

At the sound of the slight drop in your voice, your little girl looked at you her lips forming into a pout before she reached for you, your eyes softening as you took her and kissed her cheek

“Aw je t’aime tellement mon petit amour, merci bébé” (aw i love you so much my little love, thank you baby )

Charles was more than happy to watch the two of you cuddle up together, there was nothing more he loved than spending time with his girls, and now having the winter break, he had all the time in the world to spend with you two before heading back to pre season testing in February.

While you continued walking throughout the park, Charles picked up some snow and molded it into a snowball, bringing it over and holding it out to Lyla, causing more happy squeals to come from her

“This is a snowball princess…you throw it anywhere you want, here try it”

The little girl looked at her father as she took the snowball, obvious confusion in her eyes before she threw it, the best a five month old can, landing straight on Charles’s chest, his mouth dropping in faux shock

“Well done my love!! You got papa!” you laughed, causing Lyla to follow through, her laughs only getting louder when Charles dramatically fell to ground, snow continuing to fall around him

After a few seconds of squirming you put Lyla down and let her crawl over to her dad, letting her climb onto him and hit his chest, babbling softly until he grabbed her gently and lifted her into the air, more laughter spilling around him as you joined them in the snow.

The same spot where Charles once made you fall in a snowstorm 5 years ago on this same day, the day that changed your lives forever and brought two perfect people together, and now you had a daughter to share the love with.

The same spot that love once flourished is the same spot that love still grows…even in the snow…

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reidmotif · 6 months

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And For My Next Trick...

Summary: Reader is invited to a Halloween party where she doesn't know anyone. Everyone seems absolutely insistent she has to meet a mystery man who'd love her costume ALTERNATIVELY: Reader and Spencer unknowingly match costumes at a Halloween party.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, light mentions of drinking, oral sex (f recieveing), handcuffs during sex, one shitty “now you see me” magic sex reference (sorry), heavy making out, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Why did I agree to this? Who goes to their friend’s company-mandated Halloween party? Who goes to their friend’s company-mandated Halloween party when they work for the damn FBI?

The answer was of course, summed up with a simple “Penelope Garcia”, a force of nature when it came to swaying people into novel life experiences, as she’d done with me in this moment.

When I offhandedly recalled that I hadn’t been to a Halloween party since college, Penelope grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me a little, eyes wide like saucers, like she couldn’t believe what I’d said.

“What?! What have you done since then to celebrate, then?” She asks, watching me intently.

“Nothing.” I respond, plainly, watching as her face morphed into one of further disbelief than before.

“What can I say?” I say, giving a laugh at her over-exaggerated antics at my admission, shrugging in the face of it. “I just don’t vibe with it.”

“What’s there not to ‘vibe’ with?!” She says, still holding onto my shoulders, absolutely unable to accept that I may have grown out of Halloween as the appeal of the holiday slowly dwindled with age.

“Everything.” I respond, still laughing. “I don’t like over-drinking, I don’t like sexy costumes, I don’t like being scared. Halloween’s less fun when you’re older.” I listed and reasoned off the top of my head, as Penelope stood there shaking her head, not accepting my answers in the slightest.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to let the spirit of Halloween die inside of you so young.” She responds, incredibly serious and unmoving. “You can have fun without all that! Come on! I can prove it to you.” She adds, definitively.

I raise an eyebrow, watching her with an amused expression. “Can you now? And how’s that?”

“Spend Halloween with me!” She retorts, instantly. She smiles big, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she grew more and more excited at the idea.

“Aren’t you spending Halloween with your work friends?” I ask, knitting my brows. “Your FBI work friends?” I say, in that tone, letting her know that there was definitely a part of me opposed to spending any day of mine with people I didn’t know whatsoever.

“Oh come on! Don’t give me that!” Penelope says, nearly pouting in front of me. “It’ll be fun! They’re my friends and they’re sweet and I think they’d love to meet you! You’ll have fun. Trust me.” She says, looking deep into my eyes as she willed me silently to say ‘yes’ with her expression alone. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking it over before she breaks my thoughts with a, “Please?” and in a quick moment, she’s overcome all my defenses and I nod, weak to her pleas.

“Okay! Okay! Fine!” I say, smiling a bit. “I’ll go. But I swear, if all I get out of the night is shit-faced drunk with a hangover the next morning, I’m never trusting you with my plans ever again.” I warn, raising an eyebrow and she just shakes it off, smiling wide.

“Deal. You’ll have fun, I promise.” She reiterates, and I nod, not realizing what I’d gotten myself into at that point.

So that night, when Penelope pulled up in front of a bar after picking me up from my apartment, I gave her a quizzical look, tilting my head in confusion.

“I thought this was a work party. You guys have work parties at bars?” I ask, knitting my brows.

Penelope giggled as she put the car in park, shaking her head. “Oh, my dear. You have no idea.” I stare at her, patiently waiting for her to elaborate, and she does, continuing in her excited fashion without requiring any prompting from my end. “We rarely have time for any ‘parties’ of the sort, given the whole insane schedule thing, so when we get a chance to host a shindig like this, we go all out.” She says, grinning wildly. “Especially when it's Halloween.”

I got out of the car, trying to discern what she meant, but gave up, deciding to just nod and go along with it, knowing more questions would just confuse the hell out of me anyway.

“Did I mention I absolutely love your costume?” Penelope compliments, I smile, waving her off.

“I literally dug it up from my senior year of college. I’m just glad it fits.”

The number I was wearing, in question, was a sparkly red leotard, with black stockings. A bit of height was added to my figure through the kitten heels on my feet, and adorning my neck was a traditional bowtie, alongside a little top hat with red detailing around the head. On my waist hung a stuffed bunny, adding a bit more intention to the outfit.

A magician’s assistant, in all its glory. It was a bit showy, but I figured most people would dress up regardless, and I wasn’t about to pay money for another costume for a holiday I rarely paid any mind to in the first place.

“Whatever it is, it’s working for you.” Penelope says with a wink, leading me into the bar.

The bar felt absolutely alive, buzzing with energy as multiple people walked around in costume, fog machines set up on multiple fronts to add a bit of a ghastly ambience to the scene, Halloween music playing in the background as people chatted each other up. The lights were dimmed, and I followed Penelope deeper into the party.

She turned around, handing me a cup with an unidentified liquid, and urged me to drink with her.

“It’s just punch! I swear!” She says to me, over the music, and I down the beverage quickly, glad she was obeying my request of not leaving the party absolutely wasted. It left the distinct flavor of artificially flavored cherry in my mouth, and I looked at her, wondering where she’d take us next, but before I could say anything, a blonde woman dressed as a black cat approached the two of us and Penelope immediately wrapped her arms around her, smiling.

“(Y/N)!” Penelope says, “This is JJ, JJ, my plus-one for the night, (Y/N)!” She exclaims, excited to introduce the two of us.

I shake JJ’s hand, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you- I love your costume, black cats are my favorite.” I say, and she grins gratefully.

“Last minute costume. Can you tell?” JJ responds, and I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” I respond warmly, already feeling a sense of kinship with the woman, her smile and lighthearted nature easing me into the interaction.

“Your costume.. magician?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she gives me a look-over.

“Magician’s assistant, actually, but yes.” I say, laughing a bit. “I suppose in a certain light I may just look like a sexy magician, in hindsight.” JJ laughs at the joke, making me laugh a bit more as well.

“God, people here are going to think you and Spencer came here together.” JJ says, smirking, pouring herself a glass of punch.

“Spencer?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I won’t spoil his costume, but trust me. You have to find him at some point in the night. He’d love your costume.” She says the words with a playful lilt, my curiosity piquing at the idea of this mystery man who’d apparently be enamored by my choice of clothing tonight specifically.

“I have to find my husband.” She quickly adds, “But it was nice meeting you! Have fun!” She says, sauntering away, and leaving me and Penelope alone.

“Okay- so I was thinking we could look at the games they have here and then-” Penelope says, but I stop her.

“Who’s Spencer?” I ask, my interest in the subject not being fully satiated here.

“I work with him!” Penelope responds, and I laugh at her uncharacteristic briefness.

“Penelope, you work with everyone here.” I say, and she laughs.

“Okay, okay, but- seriously! I don’t want to spoil the surprise. It’ll be much better if the two of you run into each other.” She says, and my fascination only increases. “So.” She says, trying to segue into another topic, but I shake my head.

“Pen- if it’s alright with you, I’m gonna try and explore on my own, yeah?” I say, trying to seem as polite about it as possible, but she understood immediately.

“Don’t worry. I understand completely.” She says, with a wink. “You’ll know him when you see him.” She says, before walking away, and I was left alone, beginning to traverse through the party.

I met a number of characters that night, engaging in pleasant conversation and accepting some alcohol in small quantities, keeping myself in the right headspace so that I could continue my search for the man that’d been brought up to me before. When I’d bring his name up in conversation, as to get a hint to where the man would be, I’d always get the same reaction. A flash of recognition, and a smile. A “Do you two know each other?” and when I’d shake my head, they’d follow it with a, “He’d love your costume.”

For God’s sake! I knew he’d love my costume! Every living soul at this party had told me so! I’d love to just see the guy at this point!

I was just about to give up my search for the man, when I finally spotted a small crowd in the corner of the party that was a bit quieter than normal. I made my way into the group of people, coming to the front to be met with the sight of a man in a costume.

A magician’s costume.

“For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.” He says, looking around the crowd, and the moment his eyes land on me, I raise my hand above my head, and he nods, gesturing me over.

He speaks quietly, grinning a bit at me. It’s boyish and sweet as he looks me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Magician’s assistant?” He asks, with a little bit of laughter in his voice, and I nod, and he responds by nodding back. “I love it.”

“I know.” I say, laughing. He looks a bit confused, until I say, “Trust me. Practically everyone at this party has been telling me to find you-"

I suddenly realize there's a good chance this may not even be the aforementioned 'Spencer'. "Oh, God, I hope you are him, otherwise this’ll be really awkward.” I say quickly, realizing I hadn’t even described my plight in the first place to the stranger in front of me, before he quickly alleviated my nerves.

“Spencer Reid.” He says, grinning.

“Thank god. You are the right person.” I say, with relief. “(Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N).” He says, smirking. “Ready to help me with this trick?” He says, putting on a bit of a performance for the people gathered around us, and I nodded.

“Pick a card, any card.” He says, fanning a deck of cards in my direction, all face-down. “Show it to the audience, but don’t tell me the card!” He says, dramatically, turning away entirely and covering his eyes with his free hand, and I found myself giggling at the silliness of it all. I quickly picked a card from the middle of the deck, the two of hearts, ironically, and showed it to the audience, who all nodded in recognition.

“Have you picked your card?” Spencer asks me, still turned away and I reply.

“Yes, I have.”

“And have you shown the audience?” Spencer continues, in the same, climactic tone from before.

“I have.” I say, with a smile.

“Alright. Put her back into the deck, and tell me when you have.” He replies, still totally turned away, his eyes shut.

I place the card back in the deck, nestling it between the cards and he grins as he feels the disturbance to the deck. “The card is in the deck.” I confirm, and he turns back, beginning to shuffle the cards with fast, adept fingers. I watch his hands carefully, before he draws my attention back to his face by speaking to me.

“So, (Y/N), what brings you to this party in the first place? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the building.” He asks, casually, his hands still moving quickly.

“Oh- what?” I found it impossible to focus on both his hands, and the conversation, so I turned my attention towards the latter. “Penelope.” I respond, after processing the question. “She’s my friend, she told me to come. I don’t know anyone here besides her.” I add, answering his question.

“Ah.” He responds, cooly, keeping direct eye contact on me the entire time, and I was unable to tear myself away from his gaze. “Do you make it a habit to come to parties where everyone’s a stranger to you?”

I laugh a bit. “Absolutely not. I mean, everyone’s been nice so far, I’d say, so it’s not half-bad.” I continue, relaxing into the banter with him. His aura was magnetizing. Maybe it was the magician persona he was putting on, maybe it was the fact that he was dead handsome, but I found him increasingly attractive with every passing second.

He grinned, and I noticed that as our conversation dwindled, his hands began to slow. “Alright. Now, if my magician senses prove me right, is..” He takes a long second, making a show out of pulling a card out of the deck, “this your card!” He finishes, showing a.. six of spades.

I laugh a bit nervously, “Uh, no?” I felt a blush rising to my face as he seemed to grumble, looking more thoroughly through the deck.

“This?” He asks, holding up a three of diamonds.

“Nope.”

He holds up a queen. “This one?”

“Still no.”

“God, I swear..” He finally shows me the entire deck, watching me intently. “Do you see your card anywhere here?” He asks.

I scan the deck, expecting to see the two of hearts but didn’t, and I furrowed my brows.

“Is it not there?” Spencer asks, a specific lilt in his voice, as he grins playfully at me, and I look at him, still confused.

“No, but I swear- I did put it back.” I say, looking through the cards in front of me one last time.

“That’s strange.” Spencer responds, beginning to think. “Do you mind if I just..” He suddenly took a step closer, invading my personal space in such a swift manner, I barely had time to process what was going on.

I could feel his breath hitting me from above, as I turned my gaze up at the man in front of me. I could see him clearer, this way. The way his brown eyes watched me as well, the pink of his lips, the way his soft hair fell across his forehead. He reached forward, causing my breath to hitch before he slowly found my hat, lifting it from my head.

“(Y/N), do you mind checking your hat for a moment?” He says, giving me the article of clothing.

“Oh, I-” I stutter a bit, before taking the hat from his hands slowly and looking inside, seeing-

No fucking way.

I pulled out the two of hearts, which had somehow found its way into my hat.

“How- You-” I say, before he stops me.

“Show the card to the audience.” He says, grinning, and I do.

“That’s your card, isn’t it?” He muses, and I nod, absolutely dumbstruck.

He gives a little smirk. “Take a bow. For being such a good assistant, you know.” He says, and I bow my head a little, still trying to wrap my head around how he managed to do the trick in the first place.

The little group around us gave small claps and dispersed once the trick was over, leaving me and Spencer alone.

“So..” I start, but he laughs and interrupts.

“Before you ask me, no. I will not tell you how I did that.” He says, almost reading my mind.

“Come on!” I say, grinning. “You have to. That’s- that’s impossible.” I stammer.

“I just did it, didn’t I?” He says, with a bit of cockiness in his voice, which made him even more attractive than before.

“Okay but- No way!” I say, trying to think. “You must’ve planted it there. Or-”

“I planted the card in a hat that had been on your head the whole time?” He responds, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’.” He says, smiling. “It’s just magic. And a magician never reveals his-”

“I swear, if you finish that cliched sentence..” I warn.

He raises his hands up in surrender, that boyish grin still gracing his face. “Okay! Okay! It’s true though.” He adds, and I find myself rolling my eyes.

He notices my displeasure, and laughs a bit. “Okay, tell you what. What if I taught you how to do the trick? That way I’m technically not flat-out telling you how to do the trick.” He says, and I nod, excited.

“Wait- yeah. I would do that, in a heartbeat.” I respond, and he looks animated at the prospect.

“It’s a bit loud here.” He says, raising his voice a little over the music in the bar. “I know we just met but- uh. Would you wanna come to my apartment?” He asks, a bit hesitant. “In the name of magic.”

I watched his expression carefully, and saw the implicit desire painted in his eyes.

Wow. This costume must’ve worked a lot better than I expected.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I respond, sweetly. “Lead the way, magic man.” I say, a bit teasingly. There was something exhilarating about knowing that there was a good possibility he wanted me, the same way I found myself wanting him.

He smiles, offering his arm to me as we walk out of the bar together. He leads me to his car, opening the door of the passenger seat to me like a true gentleman, and I smile, getting in. He starts the vehicle, beginning to drive away from the bar.

“Have you always done magic?” I ask, attempting to start a conversation with the man next to me, who was still a near stranger at this point.

He laughs a bit. “Yeah, actually. Before I ever started working for the FBI, I learned as a kid.”

“What do you like about magic?” I ask, a little lamely, still trying to continue the flow of discussion between us, making an effort to know him better.

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t have too many friends growing up, so when I did.. I liked to entertain them.” He lets out a dry chuckle, a bit self conscious. I listened intently, finding myself more intrigued by him as he opened himself up to me. “It sounds silly, but I’ve always just enjoyed the feeling of making someone feel.. wonder.. amazement..?” He adds, hesitantly. “It’s just nice.” He finishes.

“That was probably way too personal for a question about magic, huh?” He says, after a moment.

I shake my head. “No! No. That’s a great reason. Probably better than anything I could ever come up with for any of my own hobbies.” I say, trying to make him feel at ease, the way he had for me before.

He smiles gratefully. “Thanks.”

“So about that trick..” I start, grinning.

“I’m not telling you how I did it!” He says, laughing. “You gotta work for it.”

“Oh, come on.” I exclaim, before pausing.

“Okay, tell me this. How many ways can you do that trick? Is it only with specific cards?”

“Nope.” He responds. “I can do that trick 52 ways. It’s all in the hands” He says, a little bit of pride in his voice.

“52 ways, huh?” I say, grinning. “My god, Spencer Reid. You must be really good with your hands then.” I say, trying to flirt just a bit.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He responds, and for a second, I hear a hint of lust in his voice, and I realize I wasn't insane for thinking he wanted me back. I could feel his tone causing my cheeks to heat up, and my panties getting wetter in an instant.

“Oh?” I respond, my voice suddenly hoarse.

“Yeah.” He responds, voice a bit deeper than before.

“I’m sure you could show me once you get to your apartment.” I say boldly, testing the waters and I see him lick his lips, nodding.

“I’d like that.” He responds, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, driving a bit faster than before.

As soon as we made it past his front door, Spencer was pushing me against the wall, planting his lips on mine in a frenzy, as my hands went to take off his coat, both of our intentions clear at this moment.

His hands trailed down to my waist, pulling me closer against him to the point where I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. The sensation caused me to moan, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue into my mouth, exploring as we continued to seek pleasure from the other, not paying mind to the consequences of our spontaneity.

His hands began to move to the zipper of my leotard, slowly pulling it down as my hands went to his belt, undoing it as quickly as I could. I felt something in the pockets of his slacks, and pulled it out to reveal a pair of handcuffs.

“Not my government issued ones. They're apart of the costume gear” He says, immediately, beginning to kiss at my neck. “We could use them, if you want.” He murmurs, his hot breath right at the hollow of my collarbone.

I breathed in sharply, nodding. “Oh, god. Yes.” I could feel him pulling me by my hips, his lips never leaving the expanse of my skin as he pushed me onto his bed, caging me in between his arms as he continued with his ministrations.

I could hear the soft moans of pleasure drawing out from my lips, my eyes fluttering shut. For an instant, I couldn’t feel his presence on me, until my hands were being raised above my head, and the small “snap” of handcuffs could be heard against me. I watched him, his gaze determined and lustful, checking the handcuffs to make sure they weren’t too tight, but that I couldn’t escape.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, beginning to kiss my fingertips, and making his way down my arm. He finally manages to pull off my leotard, and in a moment of what I could only describe as carnal desire, he rips open my stockings, discarding them on the floor as he made his way to the growing wet spot on my panties.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He growls, his breath hitting my wet heat, and I moaned at the sensation alone. He slid my panties down, leaving me entirely bare while he stayed mostly clothed, only adding to the appeal of our encounter.

He settled in between my legs, and I watched him, my breath coming out in short, small gasps.

“I need to taste you.” He murmurs, and I nod.

That’s all it takes, and he’s nearly devouring at my cunt. I can feel his tongue everywhere, languidly working at my sex before circling around my clit. I throw my head back, and feel my hands itching to grab at his hair, to grind against his mouth. It’s like he could feel my desperation, smirking against me.

“Patience.” He murmurs, and I grumble a bit, but the annoyance quickly dissipates as he moves to suck around my clit, causing an entirely new slew of sensations to rack my body. I can feel myself writhing, and he hooks his hands under my thighs to keep me in place. Before I can even tell him, I’m coming against his face, my body convulsing in his touch as he continued to eat me out like he couldn’t get enough.

He only stopped when I weakly moaned his name, looking up at me through my thighs, my wetness coating his chin. “Please- I need you.” I say, trying to now fulfill the growing ache that came from being so painstakingly empty. He nodded, understanding me immediately and moving to undo the handcuffs. Immediately, my hands wrap around his neck as I feel him free his cock from the confines of his briefs, and I briefly glance down, taking note of his size, and knowing how well I’d be fucked in a few brief moments.

He guided his member to my aching cunt, and pushed into me, inch by inch. I could feel my breath snatched away in an instant, as my jaw dropped in a quiet moan. He seemed to enjoy the sensation of entering me as well, his eyes closing in concentration.

“So warm.. so perfect.” He murmurs, moving down to kiss my jaw. “Can I move? Can I please move?” He begs, the neediness in his voice apparent.

I nod, feverishly. “Yes. Please.”

He immediately starts moving in a fast pace, using a strength I didn't know he had in him. I could feel myself shifting up the bed with every thrust he pummeled into me, and every movement of his hips only elicited longer, louder moans. It seemed to spur him on, as he pushed my legs to my chest to gain an even deeper angle, which had me screaming in pleasure at that point.

“I’m not gonna last..” He moans out, and I nod, indicating we were in the same boat. His hand slipped in between our bodies, finding my clit in an attempt to have me finish before him.

“Please, pretty girl.” He moans, his movements never letting up. “Come for me.”

I do, feeling myself tighten around his cock, as my walls spasmed all around. It seemed to push him towards his release as well, as I felt his warmth seep into my deepest point. He pulled out of me, exhausted, laying beside me on the bed.

His hands reached over for me, and I made my way into his arms, laying my head on his chest, feeling our rapid heartbeats calm down together after our act of passion. His chest rises up and down, as does mine, and we bask in the afterglow of what just took place.

“We never did get to that magic trick.” I say, finally speaking, my words coming out a little breathlessly.

I can feel his laughter as he places a tender kiss to the top of my head, as if we’d done this a thousand times before. “After that, I’ll teach you whatever you want. Sure you could teach me a thing or two too, hmm?"

“Deal.” I say, closing my eyes and relaxing in the warmth of a man that was no longer as stranger than before.

wow!! sorry for disappearing on you guys like that!! idk how long it's been since my last post, all i know it's been a while and i'm very deeply sorry!! i hope this makes up for it. i actually wrote this as a submission to @imagining-in-the-margins 's meet cute challenge, so! fun fun fun. please reblog, like, comment, or whatever!! i genuinely love seeing what everyone has to think . just as a warning, my posting may get sporadic for the next month or so, but i promise by december we're gonna be on that weekly fic grind. again, so sorry for the sudden disappearance!!! i appreciate everyone very much for their patience!!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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hannahmanderr · 10 months

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I haven't seen anyone else talk about this yet so I'm going to assume no one has (and if this is the millionth post about this I am so sorry), but apparently there was a leak at Viacom last month, and one of the things that got leaked was the original Danny Phantom pitch bible, and let me tell y'all, there is some interesting lore to be had. I've taken the liberty of summing up a few notable points, but feel free to read for yourself - it's pretty short.

Jack was originally written as an ex-spy, test pilot... basically if it was a daring job, he probably had it. His IQ was supposedly only one point off from Maddie's, and his bumbling was more of a result of him being more "brave than smart."

Maddie was originally written as "one of the world's most respected theoretical physicists" and the brains between her and Jack. Get this: her full name was supposed to be Madison!

Sam and Danny's psychic connection was actually a result of the accident. When he was in the hospital and still very much saturated with ectoplasm, she gave him a "get better" kiss on the forehead, which sparked the connection. The connection would've manifested in a number of ways, including a perpetual ability to "sense" the other, see visions, and hear each other's thoughts, though it was supposed to be somewhat unpredictable.

Jazz hid her brains from her cheerleader friends because she wanted to fit in with them.

Danny was supposed to be the only person able to see, hear, and interact with ghosts.

On the subject of Danny, his reputation for being a scaredy-cat was much more well-known, even to the point where Sam and Tucker gave him the nickname Danny Phantom before he even had his accident. This kid was scared of his own shadow, frogs, you name it.

Overshadowing was originally called "ghosting," and the more intelligent a person, the more difficult it would be to control them.

Jack and Maddie were hoping to break the barrier between the "Real World" (our world) and the "Unreal World" (the ghost world). They wanted to get through to the spirit realm to be able to communicate with the dead in order to help make the world a better place (think picking Einstein's brain a little more, seeing what other music Mozart has cooking, etc.). That dimensional barrier was damaged when they first tried out their experiment, and Danny - who was hiding out from Dash in the lab - would be caught in the middle.

Much like how fans have interpreted things and how the show tried to imply, Danny felt responsible for unleashing the ghosts into our world and decided to adopt the name Sam and Tucker had teased him with to help put a stop to their reign of terror.

Seriously, y'all should read this. There's a lot of interesting info in here, and really it sounds like such a cool concept?? Like I'll probably add my personal thoughts in a reblog, but there's a lot of potential for untapped creativity from the phandom here. Plus it's always nice to see what's technically official content almost 20 years after the show's premiere.

#danny phantom #danny phantom bible #nickelodeon #dp #official content #pitch bible #danny phantom pitch bible #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton

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clusterbuck · 22 days

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my heart is working overtime

7x04 coda

Tommy kissed him.

Tommy—

A sound escapes him, soft but bright, and it takes him a moment to realise it’s a laugh.

Tommy kissed him, and five minutes after Tommy left for his shift and let the door swing slowly shut, Buck is still standing in the same spot full of wondrous laughter about it, because—

Tommy kissed him.

Buck fights the urge to reach up and touch his mouth, then realises there’s no one here to judge him and lets his fingertips trace the outline of his lips, committing to memory the feeling of Tommy’s mouth pressed against his. The scrape of Tommy’s stubble against his skin, the pressure of his fingers on his jaw—

Only—he doesn’t have to strain to preserve the memory, because he gets to do it again. On Saturday, when Tommy takes him on a date.

The laugh bubbles out of him again, wild and free, and he doesn’t know what to do with limbs. He doesn’t know how to settle in his skin, to be the same person he was before Tommy knocked on his door.

He doesn’t know if he is the same person he was before Tommy knocked on his door. If maybe being kissed like that changed something fundamental about him.

But then he remembers being thirteen years old, and the fierce burning in his chest when his best friend Johnny got his first girlfriend. He’d known, even then, that he wasn’t supposed to want Johnny to dump the girl and hang out with him instead, but Buck is starting to suspect he hadn’t know why he wanted that.

He remembers it happening again in high school, and again and again, so—

Maybe he is the same person he’s always been, only now he has all the information.

Buck’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to find a text from Tommy. Saturday. Don’t forget.

He stumbles over to the sofa and sits down, a grin creeping across his face all over again. Not a chance, he sends back, and sits there clutching his phone and staring into space, hoping that Tommy texts back. Terrified that Tommy will text back, because what if he doesn’t know what to say?

His grin fades. God, they’re going on a date. He’s going to have to know what to say.

The thought rises slowly. Just the hint of an idea at first, like a whale brushing the surface before it breaches, and then it crashes down on him with all the force of a blue whale.

What if he doesn’t know what to do?

What if he’s not good at it?

He’s only ever dated women before. He doesn’t know if he’d say he’s good at it—if it’s the kind of thing you can ever really be good at—but he knows how to do it, knows what’s expected on a first date with a woman.

What if dating a man is—different, somehow? What if there’s something he’s expected to know?

And buried under all of these questions, the real one he doesn’t want to look at head on: what if he has no game when it comes to men?

Because Tommy is—Tommy is cool, like he’d just spent all week complaining to Maddie about. Even if he hadn’t quite known how much he’d meant it until Tommy tilted his chin up and slipped the puzzle pieces into place.

Tommy flies helicopters to Vegas for one night, and to the middle of the ocean when his friends ask for it. Tommy plays basketball like he’s possessed by the spirit of James Naismith himself, and he kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Whereas Buck tied himself in knots tight enough to nearly break Eddie’s leg because he couldn’t deal with how pretty Tommy looks with that fucking smile on his face, then word-vomited about just wanting to get to know him.

He’s not sure that counts as game.

He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this.

Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As—

He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now.

Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.

“I’m bisexual,” he says to the empty apartment, and he’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake. The apartment doesn’t answer, of course, but it doesn’t matter. Buck knows.

And he’s going to tell Maddie. He wants to tell Maddie, and soon. But he doesn’t want to do it over the phone.

He can’t call Hen, either, even though as soon as the thought occurs to him there’s nothing he wants to do more. He wants to call Hen and ask if she’d know, somehow, if she’d seen something in him he hadn’t yet known how to see.

But if he does, Hen will call Chimney, and he’s back to Maddie again.

And Eddie—

On any other day, Eddie would be his first port of call. But he can’t, not when Eddie is, allegedly, high on painkillers.

Not before he’s apologised for his behaviour on the basketball court.

Not before he’s explained himself—

Though something in him twists at the thought of going to Eddie and laying this all out for him. At the thought of telling Eddie that he’d kissed Tommy, and that he wants to do it again.

Eddie’s his best friend. Surely he wouldn’t—

Buck isn’t even sure what he’s afraid of. That Eddie would have a problem with him dating a man? That Eddie would have a problem with him dating Tommy, as if he’s trying to steal him away?

Neither seems like a likely scenario when he thinks about it with his rational brain, but he tries to imagine telling Eddie about his date on Saturday and feels like his heart drops into his stomach all the same.

He’ll tell Eddie after, when he knows how it went. Maybe that’s the thing he’s worried about—telling Eddie, and then having to admit come Monday morning that the kiss in Buck’s kitchen is as far as that particular road is going to go.

Which might just be the case, if he has no game with men. He doesn’t really know how he’s meant to fix that between Saturday and now.

Although… from the look on his face right before he’d leaned in, Buck gets the feeling Tommy just might want to help him figure it out.

#911fic #911 spoilers #911 7x04 #shush emma #emma writes

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ddejavvu · 5 months

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hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

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The Woes of Betrothals (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Part 2 about the wedding is out now! Read it here

Synopsis: Recently betrothed, Prince Aemond is unsure on the virtues befitting that of a good husband. Ser Criston offers some surprisingly useful insight.

Warnings: nothing explicit, just Aemond being emotionally constipated

Word Count: 3k words. this was supposed to be a short one shot 😭

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: In a fluff writing mood recently, so expect to see more fluffs coming your way (not just for aemond :)) 💗

lovely dividers once again credited to @firefly-graphics !

Heavy grunts and the clashing sound of steel on steel resonated through the training yard of the Red Keep. Surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, Prince Aemond, his forehead beaded with sweat, moved deftly to dodge a blow struck by Ser Criston Cole’s morningstar.

It was nearly noon, and the Prince and Kingsguard had been training since the break of dawn. Ser Criston had a look of exhaustion on his face, the midday sun clearly taking a toll on him, but Prince Aemond continued sparring with a fierce determination, parrying Criston’s offensives with utmost precision or viciously swinging his sword to land a blow on the knight.

Whilst the prince was fond of training for long hours, Ser Criston was familiar enough with Prince Aemond’s various moods to know that today, while he was there in person, he was not in spirit. Seeing a chance, Criston quickly moved to swing a blow at Prince Aemond, and succeeded in catching him off guard, knocking the sword from the Prince’s hand for the first time this morning.

Criston expected the prince to get angry that he had been bested, but Aemond merely raised a brow and rolled his eye, “I yield. Let us cease training for this morning.” Applause broke out through the training yard, and Criston had to hide a grin. It had been a while since he managed to beat Aemond in training.

As the crowd dispersed, Criston noticed Aemond polishing his sword at a corner, a brooding look on his face. Feeling particularly emboldened this morning at his victory, Criston walked towards the prince, setting down his morningstar as he questioned, “What troubles you, my prince?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are insinuating, Cole,” came Aemond’s curt response, but Criston was undeterred. “You may pretend all is well, but you have been on edge for a few days now, aye?” Criston commented, observing how the prince’s jaw was clenched. Oddly enough, he noticed doubt shining in the prince’s lone violet eye., catching Criston off guard “You may have been sparring with me this morning, but your heart is elsewhere. Tell me what troubles you, my prince.”

Criston expected the prince to scowl and tell him it was none of his business, but instead, Aemond let out a pensive sigh, before tentatively asking, “Ser Criston, how do you reckon one should please their betrothed?”

Criston’s ears immediately stood up in attention. Gods be good, the One-Eyed Prince was asking him for advice? And about his betrothed no less. As a Kingsguard, Criston had to suppress a laugh at the irony. “Are you referring to the Lady Y/N Y/L/N, my prince?”

“Well, it could hardly be anyone else, could it?” Aemond retorted, though his heart was not in it. Criston watched, amused, as Aemond hummed contemplatively, “As you know, she and I were betrothed less than a moon’s turn ago. I had not crossed paths with her often before that, but…” Aemond swallowed, thinking of how brilliantly she smiled at him every time he had the fortune of being graced with her presence. He had always knew that his marriage would be one of duty and political benefit to his house, but over the course of getting to know the lady over the past few weeks, he found her company pleasant, and her gentle charm and surprisingly humorous wit a welcome change in the usual dreadfully boring courtiers at the Red Keep. And with every passing moment he spent in her presence, he felt a small sliver of affection for her begin to blossom in his heart. “As I got to know her more, I soon began to wish to be the sole cause of her brilliant smiles, her beautiful laughter, and selfishly, the sole receiver of her love and affection.”

Aemond had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was sounding like a lovesick fool, in front of Cole, of all people. Gods, he was an idiot, an utter idiot. Swords he could swing and books he could read, but when it came to affection, he found himself no better than an ignorant babe. “It sounds as though you harbour a great affection for the lady Y/L/N,” Criston smiled. “Yes,” Aemond said softly, his voice tinged a little with despair. “But I am unsure on how to best express my affections. She is akin to an ethereal maiden, and I’m naught but a crippled prince, who is stumped in my duties as a husband. I cannot seem to muster up the courage to proclaim my love for her, or shower her with praises and compliments.”

‘Gods, what if she is unhappy with my performance of my duties as her husband because I am too much of a coward to even talk to her about my feelings?’ Aemond thought in alarm, mind racing. He did not want to be the reason why those lovely smiles of hers cease to exist. He wanted to make her feel like the most blissful woman in the realm. But he was completely clueless as to how. Words seemed completely inadequate to express the depth of his affection for her, and he had never been the best with his words anyway.

Just then, Aemond felt a hand on his shoulder, grounding him to reality once more “Breathe, my prince,” Criston’s steady voice calmed Aemond down, making his racing thoughts come to a screeching halt. “I do believe you are overthinking things, my prince. Contrary to popular belief, I think that affection need not be expressed in elaborate gestures or through fervent declarations of love all the time.”

Aemond’s eyebrows shot up, “Then how will she know how much I appreciate her? I can barely converse with her without looking like a stuttering fool.” Criston smiled, a sort of fatherly affection filling his eyes as he glanced down at the prince. “Though I am lacking in experience in matters of the heart, I believe that affection isn’t always just about grand gestures. Words are not the only outlet to express your admiration of her, my prince. You can start with the little actions: spending time with her, bringing her flowers, talking more with her about her interests, that sort of thing.” “And you think that that would be sufficient?”Aemond was a little sceptical.

“Of course, that would not suffice in the long run. You are to be married, my prince, you will spend countless years with each other, you will have to do more than that.” Aemond’s face turned crestfallen, causing Criston to pat his shoulder, “However, given your trouble in expressing your feelings, these small gestures are a start. Build up from there, and you’ll find it easier to demonstrate your love for her over time.” Aemond’s gaze was still pensive, but his eye was sparkling a little with hope. “But what if I’m at a loss of words every time I’m with her? Won’t she find my company dreadfully dull then?” Criston couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, though Aemond looked faintly offended at that. “Sometimes, your company is good enough, your Grace. Not all your time spent together need be filled with meaningful conversations. Basking in each other’s presence is bliss enough.”

Satisfied with Criston’s response, Aemond stood up with a decisive look. “I am grateful for your advice, Cole. I shall depart to implement your advice at once.” Before leaving, however, Aemond tilted his head and smirked slightly, “You are rather good at giving romantic advice for a knight, Ser Criston. Your wisdom is wasted on being a Kingsguard.”

Criston barked a laugh, thinking of that someone from so long ago. “Mayhaps, your grace. But I think I am rather content imparting my knowledge to you for now.” Aemond said nothing at that, only raising a hand in farewell as he strode off. Criston watched him depart, a slight grin on his face. ‘The Queen would be delighted to hear of this,’ he thought to himself with a degree of satisfaction.

You were sitting in Princess Helaena’s apartments, forehead furrowed in concentration as you delicately weaved a needle through the handkerchief you were embroidering for your betrothed. The midday sun shone through the long windows, casting a light golden glow throughout Helaena’s chambers.

“Here, what do you think of this?” Helaena leaned over to you, eyes shining with anticipation as you held up your work so far. “It’s beautiful,” Helaena complimented, “Is that a raven?” You nodded, tilting your head to inspect your work. “Do you think it is too unusual to embroider on a handkerchief?” Helaena laughed, “You should not be asking me. Given the fact that-” she held up her own embroidery, and you laughed when you caught sight of a large beetle on her handkerchief.

“I have to ask, however, why a raven?” Helaena inquired. You bit your lip softly, remembering your last interaction with your betrothed, Aemond. Knowing your love for birds, Aemond had taken you to Grand Maester Orwyle’s rookery, to see the various birds he had fostered there. You had both taken a liking to the ravens, with their intelligent eyes and strangely silent demeanour, compared to the other noisier birds in the rookery. You thought to yourself that they reminded you much of Aemond, though you did not say it out loud, watching with fond eyes as Aemond fed a raven and stroked its feathers, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed.

“Your brother seems to like them,” you answered, smiling. Helaena beamed, “I’m sure he would be pleased with your gift.” “I do hope so,” your voice trailed off hesitantly, causing Helaena to take your free hand and squeeze it lightly. You had been much enamoured with your betrothed ever since your arrival to King’s Landing several moon turns ago, and you have come to know and appreciate him for his silent, thoughtful aura. However, his comportment did spell some uncertainty in you. While you knew this was a political match, your heart couldn’t help but yearn that your future husband would love you as much as you did him.

But it was nigh impossible to tell what the One-Eyed Prince was thinking whenever we spent time together. He seemed perfectly cordial to you…but you wished you could get a further glimpse into what he felt for you. Did he feel at least a fraction of the adoration you felt for him? Or were you doomed to spend a lifetime in a courteous, yet dispassionate and loveless marriage with a man you long admired?

Your thoughts were cut off by a sudden knock on the door. Startled, you nearly dropped your embroidery, but Helaena caught it deftly just in time. Sheepishly murmuring your thanks, you watched as a serving girl came into the room and curtsied in front of the both of you. “Your Grace, my lady, Prince Aemond is requesting to see you.”

Aemond? Your heart began pounding furiously, delight and anticipation filling you. Was he here to see you? You tried tamping down your excitement, thinking firmly to yourself that he could be equally as likely to be here for Helaena. “Did he say which of the two of us he wanted to see?” “He wished to see Lady Y/N, your Grace.”

Your heart was beating so fast it felt dangerously close to exploding. Your mind was spinning in a dizzying rush of emotions. Helaena dismissed the serving girl, and smiled at you, “Well, I should not keep my brother waiting any longer for his betrothed. Go.”

“Thank you, your Grace. Will I see you at dinner with the Queen tonight?” “Of course. You must tell me everything that happens,” Helaena’s eyes twinkled merrily. “That is a given,” you stood up and curtsied, before exiting the room, clutching the handkerchief you just sewed like it was the last thing grounding you to reality. Your steps were light and airy, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Aemond standing by a window, his back to you, looking as majestic as ever in his training gear and his long silver hair flowing down his back. Your betrothed.

“My Prince,” a sweet voice broke through Aemond’s thoughts. He turned around, his eye widening as he beheld his fair lady. She was dressed beautifully as always, in a light pink gown with a square neckline and elbow length sleeves. Pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes, serving only to accentuate her lovely complexion. He strode to her as she curtsied, his hand reaching out to her shoulder.

“At ease,” Aemond’s voice was like velvet. “You are my betrothed, there is no need for such formalities.” You nodded shyly, meeting Aemond’s eye, surprised that today, there was actually a flicker of emotion behind it. Noticing how he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, your eyes widened slightly as you realised that Aemond Targaryen, the usually composed and unflinching prince, was nervous. And it was because of you.

Aemond cleared his throat, finally revealing what he had been hiding behind his back. Just when you thought the day’s events could not get any stranger than seeing Aemond being anxious, you were caught even more off guard when you spotted an assortment of pink, blue and orange blooms in his hand.

“These are for you, my lady,” he added, eye darting over her face to drink in all her beautiful features and most importantly, her reaction to his attempt at expressing his adoration for her. He was immensely relieved to find nothing but genuine delight on his betrothed’s face.

“Oh, they’re wonderful,” you exclaimed happily, a flush going to your cheeks. “You are too kind, my prince. Thank you, I love them.” Aemond watched tenderly as she took the flowers and held them to her nose. She was simply angelic.

You inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers, feeling your heart flutter at his sudden, but welcome gesture of affection. Perhaps this was a sign he returned your feelings?

Aemond took a deep breath, trying to recall all the advice Criston had told him in the training yard just now. He had stopped by the garden to pick out the prettiest wildflowers he could find, but he found that none could compare to the sheer radiance of his betrothed when she smiled. ‘Focus’, Aemond told himself sternly, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘This was about making her see how much I care for her, not waxing on and on internally about how utterly struck I am by her beauty. I cannot mess this up.’

‘I must make her see how she has come to become the sun in my life.’

But Aemond was cut off by your sudden ‘Oh!’ Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin, afraid that there was something wrong with the flowers. But he was puzzled when you extended a handkerchief to him, smiling brightly. “I embroidered this for you. Take this as a token of gratitude for the flowers.” Aemond turned over the handkerchief delicately, tracing over the raven and various flowers sewed at the corner of the handkerchief, along with his initials, ‘A.T’ He felt his breath catch in his throat, “This…this is…”

You watched him nervously as he stammered before falling into silence. Did he not like it? Perhaps he thought the raven was too much? You gripped the flowers in your hand a little tighter, saying a prayer to the Seven in your mind.

Your worries were immediately allayed when Aemond pressed a shaky kiss onto your forehead. Startled, yet utterly enchanted, you stared up at him, who looked almost as shocked as you were at the kiss. “I…I take it you like your gift then?” you asked softly.

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I think ‘like’ is an understatement, my lady. It is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given to me. I shall cherish it forever. As I will with you.”

Aemond nearly screamed when he realised he blurted out the last part. ‘Why did I say that, why did I say that, why did I say that!’ his mind flooded with panic. However, suddenly emboldened from the adrenaline of the moment, he finally found the courage to express what he had been feeling for his fair lady. “My lady, I would like to confess something, and I think there couldn’t be a more appropriate time than this. I am hopelessly besotted with you.” He watched her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and he hurried to add, “Tis alright if you do not return those feelings! I understand, believe me. I do not wish to force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with. But it’s just that I loved you for so long, and I had no idea how to tell you, and I fear if I let this moment slip I will never muster up the bravery to tell you again and gods I-” the energy suddenly drained out of him as he found himself once again, at a loss of words. “I just…adore you beyond belief. Beyond what I can fathom. Please ignore my ramblings if you are uncomfortable with them, just take them as the words of a lovesick fool.” He averted her eyes, embarrassment and sadness filling him. How could he hope for someone as good and wonderful as her to love such a beast as him? The Gods should strike him down for his pride.

A warm hand reached for Aemond’s, interlacing her fingers with his. Aemond looked up in disbelief at your next words, “You have no idea how thankful I am to hear those words…because I feel the same.” You smiled shyly at him, “I was hoping you had the same sentiments as I did, and now that you professed your feelings, I could not be happier.”

Aemond reached out to grip her hand with both of his, cradling her soft hand in his hands, staring deep into her eyes, sparkling with so much devotion and adoration. They stood in silence for a while, before Aemond pulled her hand gently to his lips and planted a reverent kiss to her knuckles.

“Would you…perhaps care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I believe we have a lot to discuss.”

“I would love nothing more, your Grace.”

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stargirllanaa · 3 months

Text

୨⎯ "Cruel World” - Rafe Cameron

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Noncon smut, toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, Gun violence, Drinking, ex!rafe, Rafe is actually terrible, psycho ex bf Rafe

Summary: loosely, based on ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, everything goes wrong when you spot your psycho ex bf at a New Year’s Eve party.

A/n ✎: Thank you so much for 100 followers! Ahhhh!!!! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying my work, I recommend listening to the song ofc but you don’t have too. Bold and italics are flashback. Enjoy <333

Wc: just under 3k

18+ MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“Does anyone know where I put my eyeliner?” Your friend Nora asked you, as well as your other friend Violet.

You were all getting ready for some New Year's Eve party at Nora's boyfriend's house; everyone would be home from college for winter break, so you were excited to see all the people you went to high school with.

“No, but I know where the vodka is!” Violet chuckled,

“Come on, let's all take a shot!” Violet continued as she made her way over to you.

“Come on, y/n, are you going to pout all night? He might not even be there.” the brunette expressed as she sat beside you, bottle in hand.

She was referring to your ex, Rafe Cameron, and you knew for almost a fact that he would be there. Nora's boyfriend happened to be his best friend, Topper, and you and Rafe hadn't exactly ended on the best terms. The two of you had been broken up for about a month and a half; for the first two weeks, he would not stop texting and calling you, profusely apologizing, saying things like, ‘I'll go to therapy.’ ‘give me another chance.’ ‘I'll be better.’

It got so annoying that you had to block him; obviously, that wouldn't stop him. The thing was, Rafe was fucking crazy; he would always find a way to get to you, and if he didn't, he simply didn't want to.

“He's going to be there.” You said with a sign, “I'm just going to get fucked up, ignore him, and hopefully get some dick tonight.”

“That's the spirit!” Violet said as you tilted your head back, and she poured the vodka down your throat.

“Are you kidding me?” Your boyfriend asked you in a harsh tone as he stalked toward you.

“What?” you respond as you tried to take a wobbly few steps back.

His eyes narrowed at you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, aside from the clown makeup,” Rafe said, referring to your red lipstick.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that dress?” Rafe interrogated as he roughly grabbed your waist.

“How many fucking times, y/n?” the blonde shook your body roughly. “For you to get it through your thick fucking skull?”

You were silent, frozen almost; whenever Rafe got violent, you didn't know how to react. You didn't fight; you didn't try to run; you stood wide-eyed in shock because if you did respond the wrong way, you knew it would make things 10x worse than they already were.

“Huh?” He asked you, shaking your body roughly again, waiting for you to respond.

“I- I don't know.” You mumbled weakly.

“You don't know,” he mocked with a dry humorless laugh.

“Go and change. Red looks trashy on you.” He stated before letting go of you with a harsh push into the wall.

All your friends knew that Rafe was bad, but they certainly didn't know how bad he was. You were so good at hiding it, concealer, color corrector, foundation, you name it; if it could cover a bruise, you had it. Every story you told them about your fights with Rafe were very watered down, and because of that, no one knew how truly scared you were to run into Rafe at this party. Not in an ‘Oh, no, my ex!’ way more in a ‘he might kill me way.’ But with every shot you took, you felt your fear start to fade slowly, and when you arrived at the party five shots in, in your little red party dress, you felt way more confident than you should have.

Your arm linked with Violet’s as your friend Nora lost the two of you to find her boyfriend. You and Violet stumbled through the house, passing through groups of people, trying your best to find the drink table.

“By the way, I love your dress,” Violet approved, looking you up and down. “Red is your color.”

“Thank you!” you smiled, taking the compliment to heart; she didn't know just how much that meant to you; you hadn't worn red since Rafe had told you it was ‘trashy’ on you.

“Fuck, is the Britney Smith?” Violet giggled, pointing at the short blonde girl.

“Isnt she pregnant?” you wondered as your eyes fell on the drink table.

“Oh my god, look who's right next to the drinks,” Violet says before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is that Alex?” you replied, squinting your eyes to get a better look.

Violet nodded in response, eyes wide with excitement.

“Go talk to him!” you smiled at her. “I'll sit right over there,” you said, pointing at the elegant velvet couch.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't stop thinking about Rafe. Your anxiety slowly started to rise, and you regretted every choice you made up to this point. First of all, you and Rafe had ended on horrible terms; second of all, you came to a party that you knew he would most likely be at, and now you are all alone and a little more drunk than you'd like to be.

You couldn't stop thinking back to that day, your breaking point, the last fight you had with Rafe before you ended things for good.

“Why are you following John B on Instagram?” Your boyfriend asked you as he looked up from his phone.

The question confused you a bit; you honestly didn't even know you were following him in the first place.

“I don't know?” you replied with a shrug. “Probably was an accident; maybe Sarah tagged him in something or-”

“Was it an accident when you smiled at him the other day at the wreck?” he cut you off.

Was he serious right now? John B had waved at you, and you simply smiled in return. You were just being nice; it was nothing more than that.

“Rafe, I-” You were going into very dangerous territory, and you knew that, even though Rafe was physically attractive, he was very insecure, which showed a lot in your relationship.

“If it's another bullshit excuse, I don't want to hear it,” he scolded as he stalked towards you.

He wasn't even giving you the chance to defend yourself, and frankly, it was pissing you off even more than his stupid questions.

“Rafe, I don't even know what you're talking about; I literally-” you plead with your boyfriend, taking a step back for every step he took forward.

“Of course you ‘Dont know,’ you never do.” Rafe hissed at you, moving closer and closer.

“That's what you do; you act all fucking innocent and then sneak around behind my back.” the blonde accused.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” He sneered, backing you against the wall.

That was the final straw; now he was accusing you of cheating from a simple smile and an Instagram follow. I mean, how delusional could he be?

“Are you fucking crazy?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed.

You could tell he was shocked at your response by the way his eyebrows arched upwards slightly, but you could also tell you pissed him off by the way his jaw ticked.

“What did you say to me?” He asked; he heard you loud and clear the first time; he just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it.

“Are you fucking crazy? I follow him on Instagram. So what? I can unfollow him if it's a problem.” you argued, shocked that this was even an issue.

Rafe's hand shot forward without warning, delivering a sharp slap to your face. Time momentarily slowed as the impact echoed through the room. As the sting of the slap registered, a deep sadness clouded your features. You hated to say it, but you were used to rafe hurting you.

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Rafe asked you. Blue eyes are darker than their everyday shade.

“Huh?” He scoffed, laughing slightly.

“Calling me crazy…talking to me like I'm the one in the wrong?” your boyfriend shouted as he snatched a big chuck of your hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Rafe, I-” you tried to defend yourself as tears clouded your vision.

“No, I'm talking now.” His voice boomed as he screamed in your ear.

Rafe slammed your head against the wall behind you, using your hair as leverage; at this point, your ears were ringing, your head was banging, and you couldn't speak from the pain alone. And Rafe just kept going on and on about how important trust is in a relationship, but how could you even listen when he was gripping your hair so tight? But obviously, Rafe didn't see this as punishment enough because he dragged you by the hair to his closet, and even as he rustled through his sock drawer, clearly looking for something, he didn't once let go of your hair.

“Rafe! Stop-” You were cut off by the feeling of ice gold metal pressed against your temple; you were completely frozen, not knowing what to do; there was no way your boyfriend was pressing a gun against your head over an Instagram follow.

“If you even look at john b again, your fucking dead.” Rafe threatened coldly.

Your heart was racing; Rafe was impulsive knowing him; you could breathe the wrong way, and he would pull the trigger. That didn't stop your breath from fasting and your tears from falling, though.

“You hear me?” he asked, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact.

You didn't say anything; you had been sobbing ever since you felt the metal against your head in the first place.

“Do you hear me?” He shook you, demanding an answer, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Yes!” you cried out, hoping and praying for him to put the gun down and let go of you.

And when you left his house that night, you had never returned. Rafe did have his good moments, but was he worth your life? You broke up with him over text the following day, and you hadn't seen him since.

Since today, as soon as you looked up from your lap, lost in thought, you made eye contact with Rafe. You felt sick when you saw him; you knew he would be here, but you weren't expecting to see him this soon.

You stood up, making your way through the separate groups of people; you needed to find somewhere you could be by yourself because right now, you felt like you might have a panic attack.

“Excuse me,” you repeated over and over as you drunkenly stumbled to the stairs. No one was upstairs, other than maybe a few people hooking up, but other than that, it was pretty empty. You looked for a room, apologizing when you opened the door to see Nora and Topper making out. You stumbled through the halls until you found an empty room, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you.

Your relief was short-lived because you didn't realize that Rafe was following behind you the entire time, and when he entered the room, you instantly regretted isolating yourself from the rest of the party and your friends.

“No.” you panicked, anxiety rising deep within your stomach.

He was intentionally standing in front of the door. There was no way out.

“Hey, Listen, y/n-,” Rafe said calmly, trying to calm you down.

“No! Get away from me!” you interrupted words slurring, not wanting to hear a thing from him.

You had no desire to speak to Rafe, not after all he had put you through in your relationship, not after you had been in therapy for the past month to heal the pain he had caused you. He wasn't just a regular ex, Rafe was fucking crazy, and you both knew it; you knew he was waiting to see you in person again, probably planning it, planning out exactly how he was going to get you back and what he was going to do if you declined his offer.

“Can you just listen to me!?” he snapped at you, slightly losing his calm demeanor. “I just want to talk-” He said through his teeth, walking over to you and away from the door.

“Well, I don't want to talk!” you barely even knew what you were saying; your head was spinning, and you regretted every shot you had taken earlier.

“So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Rafe mumbled to himself more than you, fist clenching as he spoke.

As he got closer and closer, the room seemed easier and easier to escape; you knew you couldn't scream for help because of the loud music banging throughout the house; no one would hear you, and you knew you couldn't put up the best fight because you were drunk and Rafe’s also way stronger than you, he had proved this time and time again.

So you took the opportunity to run for the door while you still could. But two steps in, Rafe had already caught you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his stiff chest.

“I didn't want to make this complicated.” he hissed into your ear. “But come on, y/n, it's almost like you want me to hurt you.”

You thrashed your body, wiggling side to side, trying to escape his grip.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You shouted as you continued to attempt to free yourself.

“Yes! I'm crazy,” Your ex admitted as his grip around you tightened, and his nostrils flared. “I'm crazy for you.” he dug his nails into your side.

“Get off of me!” you cried out, voice raw with emotion.

“You come to my best friend's party wearing the fucking dress I hate! Knowing I'm going to be here!” he criticized, pushing your body towards the bed. “It's almost like you want me to take it off.”

“Rafe, stop, I-” you were cut off by Rafe throwing you on the bed and wrapping his hands around your throat as he hovered over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You fucking left me!” His grip got tighter the more he spoke. “Not even a call, but a fucking text.” he scolded. “Do I really mean that little to you?”

You didn't end things the way you did because you didn't care about Rafe; you cared about Rafe so much, more than you ever wanted to, and that hurt; throughout everything he's done to you, all the pain he's caused you, you still cared. You broke up with Rafe over text because you were terrified; he had threatened to kill you over an Instagram follow; you couldn't imagine what he would have done if you dared to break up with him in person.

But you couldn't say any of that because he was choking you so hard that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak; all you could do was hit his hands repeatedly, hoping he would let go.

“You didn't care about my feelings. Why should I care about yours?” He asked you, looking deeply into your bloodshot, teary eyes with his blue angry ones.

Your mind was racing; Rafe was actually going to kill you. You saw this day coming many times throughout your relationship, but you didn't expect it to happen when you guys were finished. You had shared your body, your mind, everything with him, and you had been happy it was over; you finally were starting to feel like yourself again. But now he was going to take that all away from you.

Rafe finally let go when he started to see your eyes roll back as you started to lose consciousness.

You gasped for air in between coughs as you held your throat, desperate to soothe it from the pain he caused with his harsh grip. You had accepted death. You knew exactly who you were dealing with, and the thought of him killing you over a breakup wasn't too far-fetched.

“You have a lot of making-up to do after the stunt you pulled last month,” Rafe sighed as if he was inconvenienced by what he was doing to you.

The stunt you pulled? Your break up was serious, and for a good reason; he was lucky you hadn't called the police; if anyone had pulled a ‘stunt,’ it was him. He had pulled a series of stunts throughout your whole relationship. He was pulling one now.

Before you knew it, Rafe was tugging at your dress, attempting to pull it off you. If there was one thing you weren't doing, it was going down without a fight. You tried your best to kick him and scratch him, everything, but you were drunk, had just been choked, and Rafe was much stronger than you, so he pinned your wrist above your head with one hand and pulled the bottom of your dress up with the other.

“Remember this, y/n,” He said as he positioned himself up against your cunt. “Remember this feeling the next time you think about trying to leave.” He taunted before pushing into you roughly.

As he thrusted into you repeatedly at a rough and harsh pace, you sobbed. You thought Rafe was behind you; you told yourself you would never let a man hurt you the way he did again. You were so happy when he was gone.

“Fuck, take this off,” Rafe moaned as he pulled your dress over your head.

With every hash thrust, your cries got louder. Rafe didn't care about your pleasure or even his; he wanted to hurt you; he wanted to see your tear-stained face. This was your punishment, and he was succeeding. The only thing you felt between your legs was severe pain.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” you heard everyone downstairs scream in unison.

“Happy New Year,” Rafe smirked as he pulled you in for a rough, sloppy kiss.

Rafe was fucking crazy.

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janeyseymour · 7 days

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I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

based off of that tiktok trend: "i wouldn't tell anyone i won the lottery, but there'd be signs".

WC: ~2.75k

Melissa Schemmenti has worked at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School for years. And in those years, the one constant in her life has been Barbara Howard. The two had started the same year, and while many things have changed, their friendship would never. No, Melissa had watched as Barbara married Gerald, witnessed the woman’s growing belly as she carried both of her daughters, had seen the ups and downs in the Howard family. And likewise, Barbara had been there to see the marriage to Joe, the divorce of Joe, the lean years… and everything in between. They’ve seen the way that teachers come and go, children grow up before their very eyes, and at this point they’ve taught children of students that they had in the starting years. Teaching practices have grown and changed- it’s really an ever-evolving world that they live in.

The second grade teacher had a solid wardrobe that she kept in rotation over the years- really just a few blazers, her signature leather jacket, the same shirt in various colors, a few pairs of slacks and jeans, and of course her heeled boots that she wore everyday without fail.

“Melissa,” Barbara had asked one day. “Perhaps you and I should hit the mall? I know some great places that have wonderful clearance sections.”

“Are you tellin’ me I need to change out my wardrobe?” the redhead teased as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“You know that is not what I am saying, woman,” Barb rolled her eyes. “But I see the way that your shirts are starting to wear thin. I also need an outfit for the end of the year banquet that this damned superintendent is forcing me to go to.”

“When you’re part of a committee, you have to go to that kind of stuff,” the second grade teacher had smirked. “Why you think I ain’t a part of all that?”

Even after the two of them hit it off, going to the mall whenever they found themselves with enough money to spare to treat themselves to a shopping spree, Melissa’s outfits still mostly circulate without fail.

Years pass, and then she meets you one night while she’s out at the bar. She walks in, and you’re captivated. You don’t know what draws you to her, but whatever it is is magical. Your eyes hardly leave her stunning figure as she dances. You know that by the end of the night, you have to at least attempt to make a move on her.

And you do when she decides to take a break from dancing to come over to the bar. Conveniently, the only opening is by where you’re sitting and nursing a margarita.

By some grace of God, she’s been watching you too- trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you over the loud music and people dancing all around you.

She saunters up to the spot that you’re at and smiles at you. Wow… her smile is radiant.

“How come a pretty girl like you ain’t out there dancing with someone?”

“Just came here after a hard day at work,” you shrug. “Wanted a marg, thought maybe the music and drinks would brighten my spirit.”

“Well, you got the marg,” she gestures to your half empty glass. “Why don’t I buy you another, and then we can listen to the music together?”

“I’m sure you have friends here that wouldn’t want me crashing.”

“I’m here alone,” the redhead reveals. “The name’s Melissa. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her.

“Well, Y/N, why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can be alone… together.”

You end up getting her number as you part ways for the night, and simply text her when you get home that night, time and place.

She’s just walked into her own house when your text comes through. How does Renata’s Kitchen at 5:30 on Tuesday sound?

I have to wait tomorrow and Monday to see you?

I mean, I could grab a coffee tomorrow after church if you’d rather that, the redheaded beauty sends.

You send her the address of your favorite coffee place, which just so happens to be hers as well. You wonder if the two of you have ever run into each other and just not known it at the time.

The outing for coffee ends up being an entire day’s worth of just walking around the city together as you chat about life. You find out that she’s a second grade teacher at one of the local schools and that she has Sunday dinners with her family every week (that is actually the only reason she has to regretfully leave you that day) among many other things. She finds out that you work for one of the local law firms down the street from Abbott, ironically enough. How have the two of you never bumped into each other, or at least seen each other? You get to your place of work at the same time as she does, you’ve both gone down to the same Wawa at the same time for lunch because your lunch hours coincide, and she quite literally walks past your firm to get to happy hour specials with her coworkers.

Once she leaves you to head to her family dinner, she texts you to let you know that she would still love to do dinner with you on Tuesday. You excitedly reply that you would be absolutely delighted.

The two of you have been going out for quite some time now, and it’s quite funny that you’ve both kept it on the down low. You’re a bit concerned that while courtrooms have progressed with society that if your relationship were to become public, it could get in the way of cases. And she, similarly is nervous that she could face backlash at the school she works for for being in a homosexual relationship. So, neither of you have said anything to your coworkers. And it’s all going swimmingly. While you had both just stumbled upon each other one night at the bar, not expecting to find each other, here you are two years later as a happy couple.

You land the case of a lifetime, one where you could make a decent profit off of your already relatively high paying salary. On top of that, you know that you’re about to be promoted after working with this firm for the last five years.

You end up winning the case, bringing in some good money, and then you’re moving up the ladder and finding yourself with more cash outflow than you know what to do with at the moment. It’s too much for you, living in a small apartment in the city by yourself with nothing else to worry about. So, when your girlfriend comes over to your apartment for dinner, you propose something.

“Mel?” you ask as she stands at your stovetop. She hums to let you know that she’s listening, but her eyes stay trained on the vegetables that she’s chopping right now. “How would you feel if we moved in together?”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board halts, and she turns to face you. “What?”

“We’ve been together for almost two years,” you tell her. “I just got that nice promotion, plus a huge payout from the settlement with DuBoise, so… I was thinking maybe we could move in together? Find a nice townhouse somewhere in the city and settle into our lives together?”

About a million emotions flicker through the redhead’s face before it settles on a smile. “I think that might be a good idea.”

So, after months of looking, you both say goodbye to your small apartments and are able to move into a beautiful townhouse in Queen Village. When Melissa files the paperwork to change her address for paychecks, Ava comes flying into the staff lounge with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Uh, ahem,” the principal coughs out and raises her brows, waving the paperwork in front of the second grade teacher during lunch.

“What?” your girlfriend grumbles as she grades a few papers and shoves a forkful of her salad into her mouth.

“Since when did you move?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Melissa shrugs.

Barbara’s brows furrow. She wasn’t aware her friend was moving house. “Oh, Melissa. Could you not afford the place anymore?”

“Girl, she upgraded big time! Went from living in the slums to a three bedroom townhouse in Queen Village!”

“Queen Village?” the kindergarten teacher repeats.

Again, the redhead just shrugs.

“Melissa, how did you manage that? I know what you make, and there is no way you could afford to live somewhere like that!” Janine cuts in.

“Can it, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say… I have my ways.”

Nobody is brave enough to ask the mob-like woman what the hell that could even mean.

“Well, when do we get to see the place?” Jacob tries to invite himself over.

Green eyes glare over at the man. “If I can help it, never.”

“Oh c’mon, Mel Mel,” Jacobs whines out. “I lived with you at one point! Why can’t we come see your new place?”

“At the time, I did not know it was you,” the redhead huffs. “And then you moved out on me.”

“Because I found

The second grade teacher blows out a breath. “Maybe once I have it all furnished and put together.”

So, once the two of you have the place put together for the most part, the Abbott clan makes their way over while you’re out of town for a convention that you were forced to go to.

To say that the crew is beyond impressed is an understatement.

“Melissa, this is beautiful,” Barbara compliments.

“How? How?” is all Jacob and Janine can stutter out.

The redhead just smirks. “I know a guy.”

They leave not knowing that the guy that she knows is you- her girlfriend of almost two and a half years at this point. And because it’s you, and you have an unwavering love for Melissa, the house is impeccable and everything she could ever want it to. You take good care of her.

Since moving in together, Melissa’s meals have only become more extravagant. With both of your finances almost entirely combined at this point, you spoil her with the best foods and ingredients that you can get her at any moment. So when she comes into the staff room with way fancier dishes for her lunch, it raises a few eyebrows. The teachers have seen Melissa stretch a dollar like a big headed baby stretches a… the redhead smirks.

“I know a guy,” is all she offers up.

The eyebrows of her coworkers only creep further up her head when she comes in with leftovers from one of the nicest restaurants in the city- a place known nationally for the delicate dishes and absolutely delectable desserts.

She’s eating the extra slice of cheesecake the two of you had brought home when Janine leans over. “How’d you get that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You sure seem to know a lot of guys.”

They have no idea that there are not multiple people- you are almost singlehandedly responsible for the lavish lifestyle that your girlfriend suddenly leads.

Somehow, Melissa is forced to go to one of the banquet dinners that the district is holding because she’s hit a milestone in her teaching, and they’re highlighting her. So, of course Barb offers to go with her to try to find something nice to wear to the dinner that she too will be attending.

“Oh, I think I actually have an outfit,” the redhead refutes the offer. “But thank you.”

“Girl, you never turn down an opportunity to go out shopping,” the kindergarten teacher raises a brow.

“I just… know a guy that already bought me an outfit.”

Melissa shows up to the event looking like a million bucks, and Barbara almost can’t believe it. The redhead’s hair is curled to perfection, the dress that she’s in has clearly been tailored to accentuate all of her curves and to be the proper length. The shoes that she’s wearing are not the black heeled boots Barbara is so used to seeing her work wife wear- no, instead she’s got on a pair of heels that have to be at least two hundred dollars if the kindergarten teacher had to guess.

Of course, their picture gets snapped and is posted to the school website a few days later.

At lunch, while Janine is eating and on her laptop, her eyes go wide. “Melissa!”

“What?”

“You looked beautiful the other night!”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How did you get all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

Jacob moves his chair so he too can get a look.

“Melissa, that is…” he thinks to himself quietly. “At least a six hundred dollar look! For a school event? Girl, where are you getting all of this stuff?!”

“I told youse, I know a guy.”

It’s a weekend when the Abbott crew decides to get together, and they all have plans to go to Barbara’s house for game night, but Gerald gets sick and they can no longer use the Howard residence.

“Well, I guess we should cancel,” Melissa sighs as they’re all leaving the school that day.

“What if we just came to your place?” the kindergarten teacher asks. “It’s the only other space big enough to accommodate us all.”

Begrudgingly, the second grade teacher agrees. As everyone is on their way over, she calls you.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” she says softly. “So… change in plans for tonight.”

“Oh? Do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly…” the redhead trails off. “We’re moving game night to our house.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your face dropping as you thumb through papers in your office.

“Yeah,” she hums.

“I mean, I guess I can go out to dinner with my mom or something to pass the-”

“What if we just… came out? At least just to the crew,” your girlfriend suggests quietly.

You mull that option over for a few seconds. “Y-yeah. If you’re ready for that.”

“I am if you are.”

“I can pick up dinner,” you tell her. “I should be out of here by 5:30, and then I can head over to grab some food before coming home.”

“There’s…” she counts in her head. “eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Somehow Mr. J wormed himself into this get together,” Melissa laughs softly. “Something about getting the band back together- whatever the hell that means.

Once you’re free from work, you head over to one of the nicer restaurants in the city, and because you and Melissa have become frequent flyers there, they’re able to oblige your request for a few trays of food. You leave a generous tip before packing the food into your car and making your way back to your townhouse.

Upon pulling in, you take a few deep breaths before gathering your briefcase and the food and making your way to the door.

When you push it open, all eyes are on you.

“Hey,” you sigh as you kick off your shoes and head for the kitchen table to put down all the food.

“Melissa, you didn’t tell us you have a roommate, never mind a hot one!” Ava grins.

The redhead just rolls her eyes before glaring. That glare is gone though once you make your way back into the living room and sit down next to your girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” you smile at her before kissing her cheek softly.

“Babe?” Barbara’s eyes go wide. “Melissa Ann, do you have a girlfriend?”

The redhead just smirks. “Oh, did I not mention that I am happily in a relationship and have been for two and a half years?”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson furrows his brows and looks you over. “Ain’t you one of those fancy lawyers that works at the firm down the street from Abbott?”

You nod. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cordially shake everybody’s hand with a kind smile.

“Wait,” Janine pieces it all together. “Is this why you moved and could afford this place? Why your meals have gotten a lot fancier, and how you could afford the clothes you wore to the dinner the other night?”

Melissa just nods. “I guess you could say… I won the lottery with this one.”

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