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maraschinomerry · 1 year

Note

Hey! Can you write a george karim x reader fic with the “learning how to kiss” prompt?

Important Research

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, mentions of Locklyle

Summary: You've fallen for your fellow researcher but are scared to act on it in case your lack of experience is off-putting. Little do you know, he feels the same and has decided to do what he does best to resolve it...

Content: kissing, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending

A/N: thank you so much for requesting! This is my first ever reader fic and it kind of got away from me, ngl, but I really hope you like it and constructive feedback is appreciated! Especially on the fact I used (name) to be where you'd insert your name, I found I like it that way when reading but do people prefer that, y/n or something else?

Word count: 2.7k

"Morning Georgie!" you chirped as you entered the kitchen of 35 Portland Row, smiling at the dishevelled figure at the dining table. It was clear he'd been up most of the night trying to research for your next case - dark circles barely offset by the glint from his crooked glasses, curly hair sticking out more than usual (you knew it only ever did this when he'd just woken up, which didn't appear as likely, or when he'd been running his hands through it in frustration), empty mug by the elbow he was using to prop himself up. The poor boy was running on caffeine. "Coffee?" you offered as you clicked the kettle on.

"Mmh," he mumbled, before realising he was in an actual conversation and not just talking to himself. "Thanks." You leant over to take his cup, fingers brushing the bare skin of his forearm, and you felt him unexpectedly twitch. The dark brown rings in the bottom of the mug had set firmly, he must have zoned out hours ago, so you fetched two clean ones and a couple of plates. If he hadn't made more coffee, he definitely hadn't eaten. Toast would do.

George was staring at the Thinking Cloth, willing his eyes to focus. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of you bustling about the kitchen, quietly humming to yourself, but beyond that his senses seemed to have abandoned him. Wait, perhaps not quite all. Suddenly, he registered the scent of coffee and something citrus. He forced himself to tune back in just as you pulled away, leaving behind a steaming cup and a plate of marmalade toast, sliced on the diagonal just how he liked it. You took a seat opposite him with a matching breakfast and a matching smile.

"Thanks, (name)."

"No problem. How's the research coming along?"

He sighed. "Not great. I need to cross-reference these sightings with that date we found at the Archives yesterday, but since they wouldn't let us take a copy of the file I've forgotten what it was so I'll have to go back again and check." You pushed back your chair and stood up with a bounce. He knew how much you shared his passion for research and loved the way you'd always listen to his ideas and share yours in return, but he didn't want you abandoning your plans for the day to fix his mistake. "It's fine, I'll go as soon as I've-" Hold on. You hadn't gone to the door. You'd come round to his side of the table.

"I wrote it down for you!" You were unable to contain your excitement. Leaning over his shoulder, you pushed his mug to the side to reveal a patch of your handwriting amongst the mess of his: "8th February 1986". He turned to you in awe and his breath caught in his throat.

Your face was so incredibly close to his, jawline curving gently past the tip of his nose as you beamed down at your handiwork. The fibres of your jumper tickled his cheek where it almost met your chest, and marmalade and coffee was replaced by the familiar scent of lavender and mint that he knew was uniquely you. When you turned to gauge his reaction at this new development, you narrowly missed bumping your noses together. You didn't pull away.

"You're incredible," he murmured. Oh god. "I mean… you're an incredible researcher… saved me a trip… thank you." Seeing him fumble his words, a band of pink spreading from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears, was adorable. Finally you stepped back, and he was both relieved and disappointed until you gently booped the end of his nose and his brain short-circuited too much to decide how he felt.

—

Lockwood sauntered into the library. It had been a couple of days since you'd all wrapped up the last case, but he'd been so busy with paperwork and restocking that now he was ready to use this rare afternoon off to catch up on the news from around town with a magazine, alone in his favourite armchair. Instead he was met by you, curled up in the other chair. Your knees were tucked up to the bottom of the cushion you had clutched to your chest, and your chin was buried in the top of it. In all your time with the agency, even after the worst cases, he'd never seen you like this.

"Everything okay?" The question was soft, tender, but it still startled you. You began to hastily unfurl until you realised who it was, at which point you folded back in on yourself. Lockwood took that as a no. He made his way over to the armchair, knowing that if you wanted to talk about whatever was bothering you, you would in your own time. The silence was tense but not uncomfortable. Eventually, you spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"I think George hates me."

Lockwood faltered.

What?

George?

The George who turned almost crimson every time you smiled at him? The George who claimed to hate physical contact, but linked arms with you whenever you went to the Archives together? The George who practically threw himself at a Wraith last week to protect you? The George who Lockwood had once caught face down on the Thinking Cloth after a particularly hard night, talking about you in his sleep? That George? He caught himself just before scoffing and saying you were being ridiculous. That wouldn't help matters.

"What makes you say that?" He prompted. Perhaps if he got to the root of your doubts he could help resolve them.

"I don't know, I just…" You huffed out a breath, already embarrassed by what you were about to let out. "Things were going so well and I really thought we were starting to get close. Like close close. So I tried leaning into it a little more but I can't follow through." The words were rushing out of you now, far too quickly for you to claw them back in before you said too much. "I really want to kiss him but I've never done that before so I don't want to scare him off, but I think I already have because I pushed things too far and now he keeps avoiding me. Like last night at dinner he could barely look at me and this morning he said he had to go and find some books but he wouldn't let me go with him and why would he do that unless I made him uncomfortable and now he doesn't want to be around me?"

Lockwood, who was being hit with a strong wave of déjà vu, had a good idea why George would do that.

"How did you know how to kiss Lucy the right way?"

The night before, the two boys had been in the basement, checking over their supplies, when George asked the question out of nowhere.

Lockwood chuckled, taken aback. "I don't think there really is a right way, mate."

"But you have to have done it properly, Lucy said it was like fireworks!" His words were complimentary (Lockwood almost preened as he'd never heard Lucy's side of their first kiss) but his tone was exasperated, almost bitter.

"Is this about (name)?" George opened his mouth and closed it again, his cheeks burning. That answered that. "You're not exactly subtle, George, and neither are they. I'm pretty sure they like you, and you know each other well enough that if you do decide to go for it, you'll be able to pick up on the cues they give off to tell you whether you're doing what's right for them. Hell, you do it when we're on cases, don't you?"

George pondered this for a moment. Lockwood had a point. When you were out, you often didn't even have to say a single word to know what the other was thinking, moving as one in moves that would have seemed choreographed to anyone who watched. But figuring all that out had been nearly a year in the making, and he didn't want to wait another year to make sure he got this right. He needed a head start.

"I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning. Beat the rush at the Archives. You won't… you won't tell them about this, will you?"

Lockwood swore he wouldn't.

True to his word, Lockwood divulged none of the previous night's events, as much as it would have put your mind at ease.

"I promise, he doesn't hate you. Maybe you should go and talk to him, prove it to yourself. I think he's in his room."

—

A delicate knock sounded on George's door.

"Come in," he called on instinct, head still buried in his book.

You tentatively opened the door, noticing the familiar smell of coffee and ginger biscuits before your eyes were drawn to the bed. George was laid on his stomach, one book in his hand and a couple of others scattered by his side. He smiled softly up at you as you lingered in the doorway.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" you asked.

"No, not at all, I'm just doing… some research. Nothing important." He'd paused in the middle of the sentence, quickly glancing from you to the book he was holding. His eyes widened a little and he hurriedly shoved them off the edge of the bed and kicked them under. With a deep breath to steady himself, he patted the space next to him. You made your way over, eyes trained on the floor.

He was so close you could have reached out and got this all over with in seconds. But you couldn't. Although your talk with Lockwood had been encouraging, you still weren't sure how far you were from the brink of pushing George away forever, a prospect you couldn't fathom. So you sat, fidgeting with your hands in your lap, trying to focus in spite of the dark eyes piercing into your very soul just inches away. Silence filled the close confines of the room.

"So…" George began hesitantly. "Did you want to talk to me about something?"

You bit your lip. "Yes. Um." You'd never been good at this bit. "Are we okay? I feel like you've been distant recently, and I- I miss you, Georgie. I thought maybe it was because I'd started getting more flirty and touchy with you and I know that isn't really your thing so if I've done something to make you uncomfortable-"

"Oh," George said simply. You balked. This was a mistake. Even if he ever wanted to speak to you again you'd be too embarrassed to do so. Tears began to prick at the corner of your eyes. You desperately hoped that George wouldn't notice. He did.

Seeing you on the verge of tears made something clench in George's chest. He'd seen you cry before, but had never been the cause and he hated knowing that this time he was.

"Wait no, please, I'm sorry," he fumbled. He had no idea how he was going to say what he needed to, but he couldn't stand another second of you being so upset. Cautiously, he reached his hand out towards yours, leaving it open to allow you to come to him. In case you were still unsure. In case he'd misread things. His heart leapt when he felt your fingers entwine with his. Allowing it to spur him on, he grounded himself by stroking his thumb across yours.

"I never wanted to push you away." Although he was assured of what he was saying, you couldn't help but miss the snarky confidence which usually laced his speech. "In fact I wanted you even closer." You both blushed. "But I was so worried that I was misreading things, and I don't know if you've realised but I have no idea what I'm doing and I didn't want to make things weird."

You giggled, a slight sniffle escaping as you wiped away the remnants of your tears. For such talented, intelligent researchers, you two really were idiots. "I was thinking the same thing! I don't have a clue about the right way to do all…" you nodded to your interlinked hands, "...this."

"Oh, Lockwood said there isn't really a right way."

You rolled your eyes. Trust Lockwood to have sent you up here for answers without so much as a hint that he'd already discussed it with George. Then again, here you were. You rescinded your eye roll and gave him a silent thanks.

"It's all well and good him saying that, look at how well it's going with Lucy!" You both laughed, the sound dissipating the last of the tension in the room. Testing the waters a little more, you leaned closer into George's side, breath hitching as he unlinked his hand from yours, taking it back with his other and wrapping his arm around your waist.

"That's why I thought it was worth doing a little extra research," he smirked. You gave him a puzzled look, and he toed out one of the books he'd kicked under the bed. It was a guide to body language. Below it, the corner of another book showed the word 'romance'. So that was why he went looking for books without you. The thought of him doing all this for you was so overwhelming, you nearly kissed him right there, but surely in one of those books it would have said something about a little build-up, right?

"Well you know," you raised your gaze from the books to his, allowing it to slide down to his lips and revelling in the fact that his did the same, "as important as research is, true science is incomplete without experimentation." By now your noses were touching, his breath fanning across your face. Your thoughts flickered briefly to George, in his apron and gloves, testing out the skull at different temperatures in the oven. It was one of the first moments that had endeared him to you. You smiled against his lips.

"I do love experimentation," he grinned, closing the gap between you.

His lips were a little chapped, but the kiss was soft and gentle as though he were still afraid you'd run away. The whole time, he hadn't let go of your hand, his other still around your waist, and you brought your free hand up to press against the nape of his neck, one finger brushing into his curls. His kisses were brief, uncertain, trying to pick up on all the cues you might be giving off while thoroughly distracted by the long-awaited sensation of your lips on his, but as you applied a little more pressure behind his head he immediately knew to tighten his grip on your waist and deepen the kiss. You gasped a little against him, and he began to pull back to make sure you were okay until your lips followed his. As you leaned closer, you teetered on the edge of the bed and frantically unclasped your hands to steady yourself. With a chuckle, George shifted himself back until he was resting against the headboard and took your hand once again to lead you into his lap. You met him eagerly. Both his hands now wrapped around your waist, thumbs rubbing rhythmically across your sides. Emboldened, you twisted your grip further into his hair and were pleasantly surprised when he moaned against your lips, a motion which gave you the faintest taste of those ginger biscuits.

Eventually, you pulled apart for breath, hands never leaving each other and foreheads pressed together. His rich brown eyes were darker than ever, sparkling up at you through his eyelashes.

"And that," you stopped to inhale a lungful of air, "is the dedication to research that makes us such a successful agency." You tried so hard to feign professionalism, but were undermined by rosy cheeks and a playful smile.

George leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Absolutely, I take my job incredibly seriously." Another kiss. "But in this case, I think I have to admit that Lockwood was right." You clasped a hand to your chest in pretend shock. George laughed and pulled you into a hug. "Don't tell him I said that."

#lockwood & co #george karim x reader #gn!reader #locklyle #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co fanfic #this took me so many attempts to get how I wanted it but I had a lot of fun #and also ended up deleting a scene that I think would be great as a separate fic

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jankwritten · 3 months

Text

Jasico Bingo Challenge: love letter

A sheet of paper, folded into thirds, dotted in places with what must be water and grass stains. The handwriting is legible in some places, and shaky in others. In the margins are small doodles of birds, clouds, trees, and other miscellaneous, abstract shapes, as if the writer’s mind kept wandering.

TO: Nico di Angelo

FROM: Jason Grace

Hey, Nico. If you’re reading this, something probably happened to me. Maybe I hit my head again and lost my memories, or something, and you went through my stuff to try and find things to remind me of who I was. Maybe this fell out while we were hanging out, one day, and you saw it was addressed to you and you picked it up. Maybe I died—

However you found this, I guess, surprise! :)

First thing’s first: I’m sorry for leaving. I know I begged you to stay, and then turned around and left, and I really hope you understand - I didn’t leave because of you. I needed to find Leo, and leaving with Piper was the easiest way to do that. I had to try and get him back.

I wanted you to come with, but you were still healing and things were going really well with you and Will. I hope things still are, in fact. Wherever I am, I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come, and how much I’m sure you continued to grow even after I left.

I really love you, man. I never got to tell you that, but you’re one of my best, closest friends. You mean so much to me. You showed me a side of the world that I never would’ve seen otherwise, and gave me a space to be myself, and I will never, ever know how I deserved that. How I deserve you.

Is that out of left field? Haha it definitely is. Sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I had to go and I’m sorry it had to be me, but it couldn’t be her, Nico, it can’t be her, it can’t be. It has to be me.

It has to be.

Here, some of the words are smeared from the water marks. Lines cross through some words that have then been re-written, as if in after-thought the author realized they were too important to delete.

If you really are reading this, after the worst case scenario, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you never want to think about me again, after what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you storm to your father’s palace and demand I be placed in the worst of the worst punishments for being so stupid.

Gods. Gods, Nico, I’m never going to get to tell you how I really feel. About all of this, about everything I’m going through, I’m never going to be able to tell you and that hurts. It hurts more than knowing I’m going to die, it hurts more than getting stabbed and poisoned. I’m going to die loving you and you won’t even know until it’s too late.

Maybe this is a stupid bad idea. Maybe I should let it die with me. Is it cruel, to tell you how I feel if I’m gone? Does this make me an awful person?

Shit. I think I’m an awful person, Nico. I’m awful and I’m selfish and I can never choose things for myself, it always has to be for the greater good, so this is it. This is as selfish as I can be. This is all I can be for you.

I want to see you on the other side. I want you to punch me for getting myself killed and hate me for being a hero and I want you to know that I didn’t want this but it needed to be me. It has to be me.

I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it has to be me, okay? So if I’m really gone when you’re reading this, okay, you have to let me stay gone. Please. If you get hurt, if you die, and it’s my fault, I could never—

Here, the letter abruptly stops. Then, it continues:

That’s all I wanted to say, anyway. That I love you. I love you in any way I can, and even if I’ve done it silently, and stupidly, from a distance, just know that it was there, the whole time. It’s still there, wherever I am. Dead, or lost, or whatever. I love you, Nico. I’m sorry.

-- Jason Grace :)

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #love letter #tw major character death ment #tw suicidal ideation #i haven't read TOA so I don't really know what Went Down with this shit but I think Jason did journal-type letters to people #he wrote down whatever it was he wished he could say to them before he died #I think there's one to Piper about how much he loves her and wishes things could've been different for them #I think there's one to Leo where Jason pours his guts out about how much he hates him and needs him and wishes he hadn't died #(the irony of that is lost on him)#he writes one to Reyna about how he wishes they had more time to be friends again #He writes one to Hazel begging her to keep an eye on Nico. pleasing for her forgiveness because he knows she'll be so angry #one to Percy and Annabeth in a similar vein.#i thik Jason just had a lot of feelings that he never let himself feel until he decided to die for everyone #and in that moment his dams broke and he realized that he was never going to have the chance to be himself #not really #he was destined for this. he was destined to be the son of jupiter champion of hera sacrifice of olympus.#who knew the boy raised by wolves was really a lamb for the slaughter #ANYWAY. :)#pjo #jason grace #hoo #nico di angelo #jasico

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beautifulblooms · 2 years

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Kinda a weird request, but;

↓

Eddie x male reader (can be hcs)

Y/N and Eddie getting high or something together and they're crushing, but haven't talked about it.

What if, out of nowhere, Y/N just says "you were my gay awakening" or something and Eddie is just "huh?"

Y/N just talks about how Eddie made him realize he was gay and kinda had a crush on him since.

{idk if this makes sense at all 😭}

I Was Never the Same After I Saw You - Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Male! Reader, he/him, this makes perfect sense!! Thank you so much for the request, i had so much fun writing this, it is a full fic and it was one of my favorites to write, I hope you enjoy!!

And as promised the “humina humina humina Eddie Munson” line did make the final cut

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Throwing the gear shift into park I turned my keys and pulled them out of the ignition. When I opened the door a smile pulled its way onto my face when I remembered why I came over to Eddie Munson’s trailer.

It was a Friday at school, sitting in our chemistry class Eddie passed a note to me. Unfolding the notebook paper there was his adorably awful handwriting. “Wanna come over tonight and hangout? I got a new strain I wanna try out but I don’t wanna smoke alone” As much as I keep my hopes up he’ll ask me on a date I shouldn’t. I had loved Eddie for a while now but I didn’t want to ask him and end up being wrong about him and be called the town fag for the rest of my life. Grabbing my pen I wrote out a sure with a little smiley face before passing the note back. He did a small dance in his seat after reading my response.

I knocked on the front door of the Munson’s trailer, it was about 8pm so Wayne had long gone to work his night shift. There was a bunch of noise coming from inside before the door slammed open.

“(Y/n)! Come in!” There he was, the man who made me realize I didn’t want to date girls. Standing in his hellfire shirt, ripped jeans, hair a mess, leaning out the door to hold onto the handle. God I wish I could just grab his face and kiss him, but I can’t ruin this, it’s too good to lose. He stepped back and let me walk in, pulling the door closed behind us.

“Well you know what to do you’ve been here before, I’ve got snacks and drinks for tonight, I’ve got a few joints rolled for us too so we’re good for a bit. Whatdya wanna do?” His hands found their way to his back pockets, his usual stance that I had grown to find adorable and somewhat comforting.

“Smoke first I guess, we have the whole weekend and knowing your uncle he won’t be back for a while.” Kicking my shoes off at the door I followed Eddie into his room, admiring the posters and the clutter that made this space so, Him. He grabbed the joints off his desk before snagging his lucky zippo and flopping onto his bed. He gently pat the space next to him for me to sit down, before he popped open his lighter and took the first hit of the night. We didn’t take long to finish off the first two joints pretty quickly, then slowly taking drags from the third one to make it last a little longer. At this point we were both high, laid out on Eddie’s bed with random snacks and drinks on the bed with us and on his nightstands.

I looked over at Eddie, his hair spread out around his head, dopey grin while he quietly sings along to the music playing from his stereo. He looks absolutely angelic, there were only two thoughts in my mind as I looked over at him, what an angelic man, and humina humina humina Eddie Munson. Looking over his features he noticed me staring and turned his head to look at me.

“What’s going on in that mind, pretty boy?” I could feel my heart speed up and skip a beat at the same time when he called me a pretty boy.

“Oh nothing, just that you were my gay awakening.” I didn’t process what I said but it was too late for me to take it back, I guess we’re rolling with this.

“Huh? Whatdya mean gay awakening?” He moved so he was laying on his side, holding his head up with his arm while he looked at me with a curiously confused expression. I took a deep breath before deciding that the worst that could happen was he sends me home high and I move out of town to get away from this.

“From the first moment I met you I couldn’t help but think of us as a thing. I had always been used to looking at girls but never feeling anything about them. I could look at Chrissy Cunningham or Tammy Thompson and appreciate how pretty they are, but I don’t want to be with them. I don’t want to be with a girl, and meeting you, becoming friends, just being around you made me realize that. Your smile is so pretty that whenever I see you I just want to grab your face and kiss you until I can’t breathe. I want to play with your hair and feel how soft it is when I pull you deeper for a kiss. I love how excited you get when you talk about Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. When you start playing your favorite songs, and you just look absolutely beautiful. I love when you’re playing at gigs with the guys and seeing you headband while playing the sickest metal riff I’ve ever heard. So yeah, you were my gay awakening Eddie Munson, and if you don’t want me to be your friend after this because you don’t want to be associated with a faggot I’ll just leave you alone- and I’m rambling I’m sorry I can leave.” I didn’t even look at his face when I sat up after my apology. I kept telling myself to not say anything before this but of course I couldn’t stop myself after I got high as a fucking kite. I had barely started to stand up when a hand landed on my shoulder and pulled me back onto the bed.

“Don’t leave, please, I want to be friends with you, more than friends, I want to BE with you (y/n), I just didn’t want to think that I was crushing for the wrong guy. It’s hard to find people that are actually gay in a city like Hawkins, so please, stay, stay with me.” I looked over at Eddie, tears in my eyes while he also had started to tear up. I sat up again and moved to straddle Eddie’s thighs, grabbing his face with my hands and bringing our lips close.

“You want this just as much as I do right?” He nodded as well as he could with my hands holding him. After his confirmation I brought our lips together in a slow kiss, it showed every emotion and thing I had wanted to show him for years now. We held the kiss for a few seconds before we pulled away needing to catch our breaths.

“I love you (Y/n) (L/n).”

“And I love you Eddie Munson.”

#eddie munson x male reader #eddie x male reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #male reader #male reader fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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of-beasts-and-blood · 11 months

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Character Intro

☢ Basics: Name: Lonnie Gilmore Pronunciation: Lon-ee Gill-more Meaning: Lonnie ~ “noble and ready” Gilmore ~ “great servant” Birthday: October 27th, 1947 (Scorpio) Age: 35 Gender: Male Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Heterosexual Siblings: A younger sister, Connie Gilmore Mother: Barbara Gilmore Father: Giovanni Romero Other Family: N/A Languages: English. Current Residence: Ladonhill Castle, Wales. Hometown: San Francisco, California.

☢

☢ Wizard Fun: School: Not Ilvermorny, that’s for damn sure. House: N/A Year of Graduation: Who cares. Occupation: Bartender Pet: None - though he feeds Winnie’s dragons enough to feel some sort of duty of care towards them. Blood Status: Half-blood. Squib. Species: Human Patronus: He’ll never know :) Boggart: Darkness. Complete and utter blackness. Hopelessness. Lonnie has always been a fighter. Even if the darkest of times, he’s always had enough determination to claw his way out. His biggest fear would be reaching that one time he can’t. Where everything is meaningless and he can’t do anything to change it. Amortentia Scent: Cheap booze, wax crayons, that smell when you open a jar of jelly candy, the ocean. Wand type: No wand. Affiliation: Death Eaters.

☢ Appearance: Face Claim: Milo Ventimiglia Height: 5’9 Hair Color: Dark brown Eye Color: Brown Typical Hair Style: A little on the shorter side, but still long enough to style. His hair just touches his collar and it’s usually styled to one side. It’s nothing remarkable. Fashion Style: Mostly button-ups, jeans and ties. He has a few sets of dress pants and waistcoats for formal events. When he’s not working, he wears jackets too against the stupid cold. His favourite item of clothing is a well-worn flight jacket. Distinguishing Features: Usually pretty deadpan. Crooked mouth.

☢ Personality: Positive Traits: Indomitable, serious, charismatic (at work), paternal, hard-working, hopeful. Negative Traits: Bitter, misguided, scheming, jealous. Quick Facts: Can cook. Can sew. Can dance. Has a muggle driver’s licence. Has a motorbike licence. Has a motorbike (don’t tell Winnie). Has a sense of humour, but it’s very dry and very rare. Hobbies: Potion-making. Reading about aspects of the Wizarding World. Window-shopping. Exploring wizarding gathering spots. Why do so many of his hobbies make him feel like an outsider? Skills: Great at potions. Okay at playing well with others. Good at deflecting insults. Bad at maintaining interpersonal relationships. Bad at small talk. Good at those cool bartender flick-flack tricks. Not good at being a brother anymore. Great at keeping himself alive. Theme song: “Life Is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back” by Meat Loaf

☢ Headcanons:

Voice: The kind of gruff tone that doesn’t make you want to clear your own throat. He hasn’t got a memorable laugh, or one of those deep voices that makes you blush, or even the best accent. But his voice is pleasing on the ear and unremarkable enough that you don’t remember it when you finish talking to him. Lonnie fades into the crowd well. Speaks with an American accent.

Handwriting: Bad. Oh god, it’s so awful. Chicken scratch. It’s like the second he left school, he forgot how to write legibly.

Lonnie is a master of the silent treatment. He and his mom barely exchanged words while Connie was at school and not living with them. Even when his sister was there, he got away with speaking very little in common spaces. He didn’t bother telling her he was leaving America. She wouldn’t have noticed anyway.

The only time he’s ever ignored Connie outright is when she came home once during her second year at Ilvermorny and proudly announced that he was what the kids at school called a ‘squib’. It was the first time she had separated the two of them as different. Before then, it hadn’t mattered that she had magic and he didn’t. It wasn’t something they talked about. But her world had a word specifically for someone ordinary like him, and it bugged him that she informed him so proudly. He didn’t speak to her for the remainder of her holiday.

Lonnie is used to the impermanence of home. During his final high school year in particular, he spent a lot of time away from his mother’s house. He would crash on friend’s couches or sleep in his car. He’s used to carving a space for himself where there shouldn’t be space. The fact that he’s living in an actual castle now is completely wild to him.

Lonnie thinks Winnie’s dragons are cool. He always wanted a dog growing up, but this kind of blows that out of the water.

Even now, years later and buried under a thick layer of denial, Lonnie still wishes he would wake up and be magical.

Lonnie likes jazz music and sometimes spends his evenings off at a jazz bar he likes in Camden.

#m: lonnie #about: lonnie #character introduction

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lilisbigworld · 2 years

Note

The second Anakin opens your package after a long day of work, his breath hitches at the material he finds in the box. Bantha wool. Hand-knitted bantha wool. Gods, how long did this take you?!

He curls up in his favorite chair and pulls the blanket over him, reading your letter several times before starting his own. At the end he inserts the card you sent back into the envelope with Ben's beautiful signature scrawled across the back. He then places that envelope in a small box along with two whole starfruits, one of his favorite books, and a new snippet carved with love and joy on either side.

His letter arrives faster this time than the last, the mail services working overtime due to a Coruscanti holiday coming up- 'it's best to get it all out so we have a chance of going home!', they had told him. Poor guys... somehow Anakin just doesn't see that happening.

Lili,

I'm sorry I didn't send the card back sooner! Ben is as stubborn as a big bantha sometimes when it comes to getting him to do things for you, no matter how small and simple they are. But he finally signed it and I finally remembered to give it back to you, haha.

Speaking of Ben... you have the hots for him??? You seem to mention him an awful lot in your letters. Maybe I'll have him write you one as well so you can drool over his handwriting. I can't believe my master and best friend is your celebrity crush. You crazy girl. I love you.

I'm really glad you got out of the whole mess with that weird depur that likes kids. That's... disgusting. I'm sorry you had to go through that at all. And I'm sorry to hear about your mom's stroke. Just know that now she's gone into the suns and she's in a much better place.

Does my mom visit you often? I know you probably can't leave the town limits, so I figure she would have to come to you. I hope she does. I don't like the idea of you being out there all alone. I mean- obviously you can handle yourself, but it still makes me sad that you don't have company. Not much of it, at least.

I remember you said Kit's little sister wants a stuffed puppy? I've been comparing them at every store I go to and I think I've finally found the one I want to get her. I will send it either before my next letter when I purchase it or with my next letter after yours. I hope she will like it. It looks like a dog I have always wanted to get.

I've included a few things in this little box- starfruit for you to try. Don't worry, if you don't like it I won't be offended. A book called Black Beauty, it's in full Huttese and then also includes a Basic translation in case you want to practice. I thought you might have fun with that, I don't know. I also put in there a new snippet. Hope you wear it every day :)

We're going on a mission soon, probably within the next few days. I'm a little nervous but Ben says it will be easy. Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes.

I love you so much and I hope you're having a great week. I want to come see you soon. I will come see you soon. I'm sorry I haven't yet.

Love,

Ani.

I grin as I pull out the Kenobi card and then absolutely beam at the signature, hurriedly racing out of my home and knocking on Kit’s door repeatedly.

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ijustreallylovethem · 2 years

Note

vin getting a small tattoo for you and surprising you with it

on the morning of your two year anniversary with vinnie you woke up to an empty bed. you were slightly disappointed, hoping he would be the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes but instead you were met with a cold bed. maybe he’s making me breakfast? he knows i think that’s cute. but then you noticed a note on his pillow and picked it up, intrigued.

had to run and get a few things, be back around eleven, love you.

you fell back into your pillow, wondering what to do for the next hour and a half. before you knew it, you were being shaken awake, not realizing you had fallen back asleep while thinking of things to do to pass the time until vinnie returned. your eyes opened, revealing vinnie kneeling halfway on the bed.

“shit, i fell back asleep. is it eleven already?” he shook his head.

“only about ten, i got back early.” he had a bag sitting by his knee on the bed and you eyed it.

“what did you have to go get?” he smiled widely and sat down, allowing you to sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes.

“we’ll, i picked up a few things for you. i know it’s last minute so don’t get on my ass about that.” you smiled lazily at him, still curious to see what he had gotten. “first though,” he reached off the bed and grabbed something off the floor, a bouquet of flowers coming into view as he lifted them and handed it to you.

“awe, vinnie these are so pretty!”

“just like you.” he reached into the bag and pulled out a bag of chocolates. “and these are as sweet as you too.” you smiled and took the bag when he extended it out to you.

“awe vin, thank you! but you can stop being so cheesy.” he laughed.

“nope! next item!” he pulled out a card and you opened the envelope, finding what had to be the cheesiest anniversary card ever.

“oh my god, this is terrible but like, in the best way.”

“i knew you would like it. and last but not least!” he reached into the bag and pulled out, literally, cheese. “the cheesiest of them all.” you couldn’t contain your laughter at his little joke and he had a wide smile plastered across his face. when your laughter died down he looked up at you, slightly more serious. “ok i was kidding i actually have one more thing but it’s not really a gift like everything else.” you looked at him confused but nevertheless nodded.

“what is it?” he had been suing his right hand to give you everything and leaning on his left so you hadn’t noticed the way it was wrapped. it was obviously a tattoo but how was that a gift? he unwrapped it and your jaw dropped, tears immediately springing to your eyes. “vinnie!”

“do you like it?” right above the crease of his elbow he had gotten “i love you” in your handwriting.

“where did you-“

“the letter you write me for my birthday. you signed it with i love you and your name and i immediately had the idea to get it added.”

“vinnie…” you reached out and touched the skin around it, not wanting to touch the fresh ink. “you trust me enough that i’m not gonna break your heart and make you regret it?”

“even if you did i don’t think i’d regret it. i’m loving you for the rest of my life whether i want to or not.” you smiled, letting your hand slide up to his neck so you could pull him in for a kiss.

“all i got you was a lousy new keyboard and mouse set,” you said when you pulled away, a slight frown on your face. but vinnies face lit up at your words.

“no way? i’ve been thinking about changing my set up! did you read my mind?” his excitement brought a smile to your face and you’d tood from the bed.

“you wanna open them?”

“fuck yeah i do!”

#vinnie hacker #blurb

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togrowoldinv · 2 years

Text

The Gala

Part 5 of The Mystery Woman

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

A night out…

Warnings: 18+ please! There is mature content in this chapter!

Note: Woohoo another part! This one is probably my favorite so far. Thank y’all for your support of this series. I hope you enjoy this one!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Masterlist

When you wake up Saturday morning, you reach for Wanda’s spot next to you in bed but are met with cold sheets.

You sit up groggily and look around the room, searching for Wanda. That’s when you notice a note resting on the nightstand. In Wanda’s perfect handwriting you read:

Good morning krasivaya devushka,

I had to go to the office this morning to help prepare for the gala. I’ve left you an outfit to wear tonight on the closet door.

I’ll see you tonight.

All my love,

Wanda

You get up from the bed immediately and find the outfit Wanda left for you. It’s a floor length black dress that’s so beautiful it makes you gasp in awe.

It feels like the night takes forever to come around, but finally the car arrives to take you to the gala.

When you arrive, you look for Wanda but you can’t seem to find her anywhere. Noticing you look lost, Nat catches your eye and walks to you.

“Hey y/n. How’s it going?” She asks you.

“This is definitely the nicest party I’ve ever been to,” you reply. She chuckles.

“Oh you better get used to this. Wanda has to go to shit like this all of the time,” Nat explains.

“And you?”

“Yeah, most of the time. I’m guessing she told you I work here too,” Nat smirks.

“Yep. I was surrounded by executives and I didn’t even know it,” you say with a laugh, taking a glass of champagne from the waiter that walks by you.

“Speaking of,” Nat says as the energy of the room shifts.

You turn around to see Wanda entering the ballroom. And holy smokes does she look amazing. A ‘wow’ escapes your lips.

Her long dirty blonde hair rests perfectly over the lapels of a deep red velvet suit jacket. The velvet suit pants almost make your knees buckle.

Everyone is watching her saunter across the room, a smile gracing her face. The eyes stay on her even after she’s started to mingle with the attendees.

She makes her way across the room and you feel your excitement brewing with how close she’s getting to greeting you.

When she finally catches sight of you, it’s over her colleague’s shoulder. She looks you up and down, liking what she sees, and she excuses herself from the man.

“Y/n, you look lovely,” she greets you professionally, but when she kisses your cheek in greeting she whispers in your ear. “God detka, you look so fucking good. Meet me in five minutes in the bathroom.”

Her raspy, whispering voice goes straight to your core. When she steps back, she flashes you a grin as she carries on to the next guests.

You excuse yourself quickly and go to the bathroom to wait for Wanda. Ever punctual, she walks in exactly five minutes later.

She locks the door behind her and immediately brings you in for a searing kiss.

“Hey baby,” you say as you both break for air. “This suit is just- do you know what you do to me?”

Wanda hums and kisses you again, pressing you back until you hit the sink counter. She lifts you up onto the counter and moves her focus to your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wanda says, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck with every word.

You put your hand on the back of her neck and guide her lips back to yours. Pulling her on her bottom lip with your teeth. She lets out a breathy moan.

Just when you’re about to push her suit jacket off her shoulders with your free hand you hear a knock at the door.

“Shit,” Wanda mumbles, disconnecting her lips from yours. You halt your movements too.

“Hey Wanda there’s some investors that want to speak to you. Just uh- when you get a chance,” Natasha’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Just a minute,” Wanda says loud enough that Nat can hear and you hear Nat chuckle.

Wanda steps back from you and observes her appearance in the mirror. She smoothes her hair back down and straightens her jacket.

“Do I look okay?” She asks.

“You are gorgeous, Wands,” you reply and she smirks, kissing you one last time.

“Are you going to come home with me tonight? I think we need to finish what we started here,” Wanda says.

“I strongly agree.”

The rest of the evening goes by slower than you wished it would, but being in the car with Wanda now makes it all worth it. You two had stayed late enough that you could sneak into the same car.

Wanda sits close to you with her hand on your thigh. Even after weeks of dating, the tension of sitting this close to her is still so palpable.

Anticipation hits its peak as the driver pulls into Wanda’s driveway. She thanks the driver and leads you into the house and to her bedroom.

“Let’s get you out of this dress,” she says softly but seductively.

You turn around for her to unzip the dress. Her hands graze over your back with a featherlight touch and she places soft kisses on your back with every inch she unzips.

“Wanda, I need you,” you say as your dress drops to the floor. You turn back around she lays you down onto the bed.

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” she says, her mouth going straight to your breasts. She licks and sucks, eliciting pleasureful moans from your lips.

“Fuck, Wanda. You look so hot right now,” you grunt out. You move your hands to her pants, but she grabs your hand.

She sits up and unbuttons her pants. When she pulls them down, she unveils that she’s been wearing a strap all night.

“Is this okay, krasivaya?” She asks.

“God yes,” you say. She moves her hands to her jacket but this time you grab her hands. “Can you leave the jacket on?” You ask, blushing at how desperate you are for her.

“Oh dorogoy, does this suit turn you on that much?” She says in perhaps the sexiest way you’ve ever heard anyone speak in your life.

All you mutter is a small yes before Wanda shifts to enter you with her strap.

“Yes, you feel so good y/n. You’re such a good girl,” Wanda says, enunciating each word with another thrust of her hips.

It’s a sight having Wanda dressed in a full suit and taking you like this. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming undone beneath her. She works you down from your high and pulls out of you gently.

Wanda leans down and kisses your lips so softly. It’s such a stark contrast to your last actions that it takes your breath away. She smiles at you and you mirror it. She moves to lay down next to you and you rest your head on her shoulder.

“I’m so glad I met you, Wanda,” you say after a few minutes of resting.

“Me too, y/n. It’s only been a few weeks, but I don’t even remember what I was doing before I met you. Definitely not feeling this good,” Wanda admits.

“I feel the same, babe. Can I take care of you now?”

“Well, I’m never going to say no to that,” Wanda laughs softly.

You shift to kiss her and she returns it easily. Neither one of you say it, but you can both feel that what you are doing is something very special. It just might be love.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @maximoffwitch @be-missed @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @wandanatvoid @ba-romanoff @hoeforwandanat @franfineashell @why-31 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @when-wolves-howl @wandzsstuff @raqelacevedo

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Feel free to message me about where you think this story could go next! I love hearing y’all’s ideas 💙

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #the mystery woman series #yes it’s THAT red suit you’re thinking of

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alberivh · 3 years

Note

VEILLE CONGRATULATIONS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT MY LOVE >_< !!!

can i request for first and last letter with childe? T^T childe has so much potential for angst,, thank you for this!! <3

The first and Last

summaries : where childe open his ‘safebox’ after a long time ever since your last appearence in his dream. and because of his undelightful sight of numbness and vulnerable feeling, he decided to read the first and the last letter from you, his dead fiancé.

character : childe x GN! Reader

contains : sickness (implementations of bronchitis), major character death, heavy angst, slight comfort/hurt, over all pure angst, mentions of losing weight.

A/N : hELLO AERI! Thank you very much for requesting this, i hope this suits your liking! (( also please do check aeri’s page @dilucbar for more interesting genshin fic and writing hehe ))

as childe breaks onto the ground of his empty mansion, his numbness began to drown him onto an exhaustion. An empty exhaustion to be exact. A simple pushed-over of his feelings are now an inexistent memory of his, he used to be so bright, but now, What happened to those charming smiles of his? Could it be burned by your ashes? Or did he just simply forgot how to provide his mistakes to love you? He doesn’t know either, All he could felt are just a simple empty tears, scrolling down through his cheekbones. making it seems like he still hide an emotions underneath the crack of his facades.

he drags his body into his bedroom. It’s heavy feelings occurs his way onto his side of the bed, drowning it scents onto his nose. It was pretty messy, full of untidied shirt, fragrance of a dandelion parfume, and most of all, which has always been in a perfect shape and form, covered by a red ribbon, a small box has been in ‘that’ bedside for about 237th days now. The box was an unpleasant sight for him, it was a remembrance for him to realize you were gone and you couldn’t be back. After all death have always craved those who loved him forever and after.

so tonight he decided to open this box. To bring back his vulnerable emotions back. to bring back those glazing eyes of his when he saw you buried underneath the rock of your tombstone. Numb and sorrow are all he could felt, excitement while opening this treasure of his lover pieces are nothing more than a natural hunch of his nature.

The box are full of your handwritten letters you’ve left for him. You’ve always collected the copied of your letter into this old wooden-tile box incase if anything happens to you, he could recollect his memory to remembered you again. ‘In the old days, if you lost your track, find me again through this box darling, sincerely, (name).’ Written in the top of the box instruction. He opens through the first letter of the stockpiles , it was one of your first letter for him. The most memorable one in fact. Written in the most familiar and comforting handwriting he has missed for ages.

to my dearest, ajax.

I haven’t seen you in ages, where have you been? Have you had a good time with the new recruits? Are you feeling well? Do you have any new interest while exploring the inner city of fontaine? AHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTION FOR YOU, YOU SHOULD JUST BE BACK SO I COULD INTEROGATE YOU MOREE,, I was about to surprised you back then with a classic snzehnayan dish you’ve always craved for, but you know.. you just disappeared to a dust and it make me thinks you are a hallucination of mine, but now i’ve heard you have an amazing time in fontaine, i couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved. i’m glad you had a great time darling, Really glad in fact!

So please do bring me some souvenir as a return of your..compensation for keeping me waiting hehe, i’ll see you soon then!

from, your lover, (name)

It was your last letter you’ve sent to your lover, before childe came screaming on your name at the emergency room, searching for your figure to be embrace in his arm. To comfort you he said, despite the worries and sweats he witness while in his way to check your structure, you’re his fiance after all, He couldn’t lose you for everything, childe is too selfish to expect the best of you.

He remembers when he was feeding you, taking care of you like another baby-sibling of his and still loves you nonetheless. Maybe only childe could do it, he prepared everything for you, leading you with the wheelchair or even hand carry you in one arm if your condition lead you to be more clingy to him. He does it all for you, for you to be happy and stay a little bit more longer than he expected to be. Just for you to be more selfish, so death could wait longer for your arrival.

Bronchitis is the name of the disease, a deadly one in fact. If it were not taken care of, maybe you were already dead by now. Maybe it would be pointless for childe to scream your name in the emergency room, searching for you, anyone but you.

as you were coughing in his arms ; making many form of mucus in your lungs, while he carries you in his shoulder, patting your back so you could feel much more in ease. You feel so light now and you’ve lost so many weight, it worries him to the edge. Though your tenderness have always lingers onto his body, it still stressed him, you’re not supposed to be gone this fast, you’re supposed to be alive and well. Let him die, he is a murderer of the innocence yet he still live long and well. How ironic it is for the sinner to always stand as the first and the last?

“ajax..i’ve prepared so many things for you, these past days..though i would say i’m still scared of letting you go..”

“Hmm..and why is it my love?” , curious and in interest of knowing much more of your recent condition, he asked you straightforwardly. Voice gone anxious and body became colder than before, you find it precious how he always prioritize you over everything.

“i just don’t want to die..i don’t want to..this breathing ventilator sucks..i really want to be with you ajax, i really want to..” you were sobbing in his jacket, hiding your face in his embrace, not wanting him to see the awful side of you for being too egoistic for your own stability.

“just, ajax..if i left you..please take that box i’ve always brought..read the last letter if you’re ready..i loved you…so much..”

you’re lost in the snow, starting your new ways in heaven. Leaving him behind ; alone. even after encouraging you to stay longer than he will, though if he think it again, it was all a bullshit for you to stay. now, he is ready to witness the pieces of you he always wanted to knew, a new pieces of you to be loved again by him. Just please let it be a decent farewell, he didn’t ask for more, but just a decent love and farewell are all he could ask for.

opening in terror of expectation. he found himself to be quite charmed by the appearence of this letter. Sniffs and sobs crawling down to his cheeksbone, making it seems like he was finally reaching his emotions after the emptiness he felt these past seconds.

to, my dearest, ajax.

Ajax, You probably read this when i’m already gone. It might be hard to move on and live another life, still I hope your managing well in your current life, i’ll always look upon you my love. Just please do not harm yourself, i’ve always been worried about you since i lay in this painfully awful bed. So please, would you keep it mind..? i loved you so much that i have no hesitation to continue to love you more in the afterlife. I’m just too selfish for you, for you to withess nor to love.

I don’t think i’ll be able to send you all of my letters for you in this box i’ve always treasured. Though i have certain thoughts to be filled when i wrote this letter. I know i haven’t been a good lover for you, you’ve always taken care of me and i could only nod in gratitude. I really wish the god’s gave me two chance to live with you again, just for myself to stay even if it pains me. I don’t want to die, i don’t want to. I hope i could live another day everytime i sleep in your arms, i don’t want to lose another person because my time has losen up. I regretted this, everything.

And if in another life i could called you by your name again. Please do recognize me as your old lover. Thoug if it meant for me to forget about you, at least those deja vu from our past could bring you back to me. I do not beg for more sympathy from you, you’re too precious for me. You shouldn’t have suffer this much because of me. I loved you ajax. even if it were only the last chance for you to met me again in your dream or hallucination. I wish you a farewell, a pleasing farewell. I couldn’t bare someone to hurt because of their lost, just because i’m not strong enough to stay with you and outlived you.

Ah and remember the souvenir you gave to me from fontaine? i’ve always used it ever since you gave it to me. I don’t know if you realized it or not, but this gift from you have always been one of my comfort, it was the only pieces of you that i could remember when you were not here with me. I have no regrets that i still could hold into it until my death. So take it, it could be the only remembrance of me till the end of the 100 years of your life.

So ajax, know your worth. You are far from perfect yet the sight of you have always been one of the reason i’m alive. Don’t be too selfish to give someone a chance to survive, live well and die well. You’ve always have been my last memory of the lover i clearly love wholeheartedly. Love yourself for me, for you, and for the others who listen to your pleas. Found me again in the afterlife won’t you? I love you.

from, your old lover, (name).

he was crying in tears of hopeless numbness and sorrow. How many times has he been cussing a ‘fuck’ out of his mouth? He doesn’t even know, He lost count. He was crying in the ground, leaving puffy cheeks and eyes behind. your words are too much for him to bare. You are too kind for him, too much for him. The grief of losing you are already too much for him to bare. He doesn’t want to remember you are dead, he just wants to remember how much you loved him. It comforted him, always have been. But now you’re gone, he could only hold into the tiny box of his lovers oath. It’s a curse to be loved by you.

#ajax #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact childe #childe angst #tartaglia angst #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact fanfic #childe fanfic #childe headcannons #childe x reader angst #tartaglia x reader angst

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

Note

My lovely Jo I had a thought

Going to the library and taking out your favorite book from the shelf. An old and worn romance novel and finding a note inside it's yellowing pages. A neatly folded pice of notebook paper with equally neat handwriting,but such beautiful writing goes to waste with the one sentence scribbled in it " Don't fold the pages corners dumbass".

You frown and take out your pencil scowling the whole minute it takes you to write back

"Are you the one responsible for the coffee stain on page 42? Dumbass,how about YOU be more careful next time"

You find another piece of paper 2 weeks from there,another snarky remark of how you're the one ripping the pages from flipping them too hard,too fast. You answer back,wondering who you having an argument with trough a letter in a book.

The tiny piece of paper becomes a whole sheet between week 6-8. More insults are traded between you and this mystery reader.

Until you finally grow tired of all the banter. You decide to ask them instead about the book. Why do the like it so? Wich part is their favorite and if they think you can really fall in love as easily as it is in fiction.

They write back on a separate piece of paper. 3 quartes of it full with extremely detail explanation as to why they like the book,wich part left them awe struck and their thought on love in general. Whoever the person is, as a deep understanding on human emotion,the ups and downs of giving you're all in the name of love. The way the talk about it is poetic and you find yourself wanting to read more,to know more,to know who this person is. So you make it a mission to find out who it is.

You stalk the library in hopes of finding the culprit red handed. Maybe it's and old lady. Or maybe some hopeless romantic middle aged woman. You think it could be anybody at this point. But what you didn't expect,it was for it to be you fellow classmate from college, the ever sulking grumpy blonde mess who is Bakugou Katsuki. A hopeless romantic him??? No way.

I am SCREAMING! God, I am so absolutely in love with this you have no idea.

I just wonder if you find out first and see him scribbling down the next note with the book, and you’re freaking out because you know who it is and you never ever pegged him as a romance fan.

Or maybe he finds out first when he sees you replying to his note and he feels his heart hammering in his chest because you’re just so pretty? And he can’t believe it’s you he’s been arguing with all this time?

I would read 100k slow burn of this I swear to god.

#not mine #I WANT THIS SO BAD

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alygatorwrites · 3 years

Note

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

↳ to be added to my taglist, please fill out this ♡form♡

as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough.

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms.

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man.

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden.

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him.

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him.

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece.

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has.

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone.

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

#timeskip reiner still sexy asf #I just wanna hug and kiss him ugh #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk x reader #reiner braun #reiner x you #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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