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raplinesmoon · 2 years

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Connexion (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: CEO!Jin x brat!reader genre(s): pwp, smut (some floof at the end) au(s): sugar daddy au word count: 1.8k warnings: strip Mario Kart (you read that right), sexual tension, hickies, dirty talk, thigh riding, daddy kink, nipple play, exhibitionism, dom!jin with looong hairrrr, Seokjin has a spending and lingerie kink, degradation, hair pulling, fingering, orgasm denial, hitting it from the back (protected sex), finger sucking, spanking, tit slapping, implied choking kink (it’s Jin duh), it gets very soft at the end (baby feels incoming) rating: 18+ (nsfw content above the cut)

summary: Stressed out and tired from your exams, you head to Jin’s place, hoping to get lucky. But he has other plans.

a/n: Seokjin was so rood at the concert this weekend and he’s just rood in general so I also decided to be rood hehe. I hope you enjoy!

listen to: connexion and windowsill by zayn

The stress of a tired, worn-down grad student who was in the midst of finals season was unmatched during this time of year. You sighed heavily – those undergrads had it easy compared to you, partying the night away with shots and showing up hungover. After a rough day, you wanted to let loose and have fun too. But you had other, more unconventional ways of doing so.

You’d shown up at Jin’s this evening, hoping he’d be able to coax the stress out of you with some much-needed orgasms. His eyes widened in shock when he saw you at the door, inviting yourself in. As you disposed yourself of your heavy coat and shoes, you felt his eyes behind you trained on the swell of your ass in the pencil skirt you’d worn for a seminar presentation. Smirking to yourself, you felt your anxiety ease, hoping for a good time.

However, fifteen minutes later, you found yourself on Jin’s plush white Cloud couch, your plans overturned in a way you didn’t expect.

“Pick your player,” Jin hands you the controller, and the blaring tune of a synth coming from his surround sound speakers shocks you. Looking up at the screen, you go slack-jawed. The man had loaded up Mario Kart on his Switch. And he wanted you to play with him.

Your eyes meet his, and you try to look for any bags underneath them, any signs of fatigue on his flawless face. But no, he was smiling up at you, arms outstretched with the controller in hand, anxiously awaiting your selection.

Huffing, you take the controller from him, plopping down next to him on the couch. You could feel his warmth through the soft wool of his cardigan, and it only made you more needy, fingers itching to tear it off along with the shirt and tie he wore under, and feel his smooth golden skin against your palms.

“Daisy? That’s a weak choice,” he snickers. “Especially when I’m playing Gold Mario.”

“We’ll see about that,” you scowl, competitive side coming out. Jin seemed in no mood to relieve you today.

Jin studies you, hair mussed from your messy bun, eyes blazing with determination. The pouty expression on your lips was putting him on edge, and he’d be lying if he didn’t want to bend you over the couch and fuck you right then and there. But it was fun seeing you squirm, and he had a high score to beat.

“Princess,” Jin’s voice drops low, and you feel a chill run up your spine. His warm breath fans over your neck, and you arch without him even asking. His hot lips press kisses up and down your neck, stopping to suck a few dark purple marks into your smooth skin. Your breath hitches, moan caught in your throat at the stimulation. You feel yourself grow wetter underneath your skirt as Jin’s lips continue to work up the side of your neck. He’s barely even touched you, but you know if his teasing touches continue, you’d leak all over his expensive couch. Smirking at your labored breaths, he continues upwards, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue before biting down on your lobe, chuckling at the gasp that comes from you.

He retreats with a smirk, admiring your flushing figure and the pretty bruises that line your neck.

“Play fair and square for me, won’t you?”

Five bouts later, and you were ready to bite your fist. Jin had bested you every single time, even when it seemed like you had it in the bag. Worse still, you were still incredibly turned on from earlier, the damp pool in your panties only growing every time you looked over to see Jin lost in concentration, tongue poking out between his lips and the vein in his neck throbbing.

To make it even worse, Jin was highly amused at your flustered state, doing everything he could to rile you up. Out of nowhere, you’d feel a hand on your thigh at the end of a race, or the light ghosting of Jin’s fingers along the side of your neck, lingering but never pressing down in the way you wanted him to.

Enough was enough. You threw the controller aside, climbing into Jin’s lap. Jin tried to look around you to focus on the screen, but froze when you began rutting against his thigh, feeling your arousal stain his slacks.

“Daddy,” you whispered in his ear, grabbing his hand to slide it up under your skirt. “I want you to play with me instead.”

Your fingers card through his hair, tugging on the strands that had grown longer recently. A deep sigh escapes his plush lips, and you see his throat bob as he swallows.

“You fucking brat,” he hisses, the loser theme playing from behind you. “Look what you did now.”

Biting your lip, you smirk back at him.

“Oops.”

This was more like it. Still focusing on the game, Jin flexed his thigh, grazing your bare clit as you bounced back and forth on his legs, your soft moans providing an alluring backing track to the campy music of the game. He feels his cock stir underneath his slacks when you arch back against him, dropping your controller to pull at his hair behind you. Reveling in your distraction, he speeds past you to the finish line.

“Another one lost,” he whispers. “Strip again for me.”

Unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of his hard muscle against your pussy, you nod absentmindedly, reaching up to undo the buttons of your dress shirt, throwing it off to join your discarded panties and pencil skirt in the corner.

“Fuck,” he groans, running his hands up your sides, stopping to cup your lace-covered breasts in his hands. “Agent Provocateur, isn’t it? I saw the charge on my card earlier this week.”

He thumbs at your nipples through the fabric, the swollen peaks stiffening when he tugs them with his fingers.

“You owe me a new pair of panties,” you whine, palming his cock through the heavy fabric of his slacks.

“Whatever you say princess,” he responds, undoing the clasp and sliding the fabric off of you, leaving you completely bare and rutting against him.

“Daddy, I want you,” you sigh. “Need you inside me.”

You let out a pained whimper when Jin lifts you off his thigh, pulling you up to stand with him.

“Up against the window,” he orders, and you feel a chill run up your spine. He had to be joking right? The windows were completely see through, anyone in the buildings across would be able to look in and see– oh.

“Did I fucking stutter?” he barks, and you back up against the cold glass as he stalks behind you, undoing his belt with a clink.

The temperature change feels amazing against your sensitive nipples, and you’re tempted to rub them up and down against the glass just to tease him. But before you can do that, he pushes two fingers into you, and you moan loudly.

“You picked the wrong time to get on my nerves, princess,” Jin growls into your ear, a salacious grin on his face as he fucks into you with his fingers, palm meeting the furious grinding of your hips.

“Daddy, please, please make me cum,” you demand, volume becoming louder and high pitched. At this point, you don’t care who sees. Or who hears. You close your eyes, imagining the people in the penthouse directly across looking out to see you naked, Jin pounding into you with his shirt and tie still on, and your wet cunt begins leaking even more, walls fluttering around his fingers.

“You’ll only come if I say so,” Jin taunts, immediately sliding his fingers out, and you let out a choked sob, your orgasm ebbing away.

Before you can protest, Jin’s sliding in, messy fingers gagging your bratty mouth as he buries his cock to the hilt.

“Fuck!” you whine against his fingers, tongue dragging against them to lick all of your messy arousal off of him, cunt walls clenching when he groans lowly. You throw your hips back, fucking yourself on his cock, while he slams into you from behind, your palms pushing flat onto the window to brace yourself against his powerful thrusts.

You feel a sharp tug, Jin pulling you by the hair to arch your back, planting a messy kiss on your lips, prodding his tongue into the seam of your mouth to taste.

“The best fucking pussy I’ve ever had,” he breathes heavily, giving your lips one last lick. “Always dripping down my cock, and it tastes divine.”

He lands a harsh slap on your ass, pulling your leg back against him. The change in angle makes him feel even deeper inside of you, until all you could do was scream his name as your body smacks into the glass over and over.

“Shit, Jin, I’m gonna cum!” you scream, pussy clamping down on his cock as you leak rivers and streams, Seokjin’s hand coming up to slap your tit, rolling your hardened nub in between his fingers. The ecstasy you feel is overwhelming, the high better than any stupid victory you could have gotten today, and you come with a squeal, no longer feeling like a sore loser.

Coming down from your high, you feel dazed, Seokjin’s thick cock continuing to rut into until his warm cum spills into the condom, and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“I should’ve known you were too smart for your own good, baby. Strip Mario Kart was the most fucking brilliant idea you’ve ever had,” he sighs.

Gulping down huge sips of water, you linger in Seokjin’s kitchen, finally feeling satiated and ready to take on the rest of your finals studying.

From behind you, you hear Seokjin, padding around in the kitchen. The two of you had showered separately, knowing you’d have to leave soon and get back to studying. Your head spins, wondering why he’d called you baby. It sounded so soft, and domestic. It made you feel things you weren’t allowed to feel for a rich CEO who was funding your education.

“Hey ____,” Seokjin whispers in your ear behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Who’s a dentist’s least favorite Mario Party character? D.K!”

You feel the tension melt from your shoulders, giggling softly. Seokjin and his stupid dental jokes. You knew it was his line of work given the materials his company designed and exported, but his silly quips about teeth always made you feel better.

“I cut you some fruit,” Seokjin mumbles into your hair. “Eat it before you go back, okay? You’re gonna crush these finals.”

Spinning around, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he shrieks when you mould your lips to his own.

“Thanks Daddy.”

A/N pt. 2: DJEWJEDLDNEDJWDK yeah Jin is CEO of a dental materials company bcos I said so kay (don’t mind me, I’m just projecting). Also there are feelings! Tiny feelings! Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar.

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

***************

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit.

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute.

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress.

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow.

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip.

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should.

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact.

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need.

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact.

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute.

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Cold Feet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (happy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé, and blink and you’ll miss it implied smut Word Count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST | Alternate Version/Ending of Cold Feet

NOTE: When @meganskane announced her 700 follower celebration I just knew this idea would be the perfect way to implement one of the prompts she gave! The one I chose is “quit looking at me like that” ❤

Also! Fun fact: this song opens with “they’re all set to go on the 18th of June”, and that’s today, so it’s festive 😊)

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Dying to kiss him and put on his ring. So why is she walking alone after midnight, Down a small town street, with cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still feels the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again— a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancée walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancée helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancée. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance.

He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancée's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancée doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

James never was.

Y/N burrows herself further into Spencer's body and plants a gentle kiss to his neck, shivering slightly at the way his curly locks tickle her temple.

He stops humming and laughs. "What are you feeling for breakfast?"

"Hmmm... You." She articulates her point by selfishly kissing his neck, reminiscent of Cookie Monster.

Pretty soon, the two of them are laughing together, limbs tangling and breaths mingling, and then an hour and a half later they're in the kitchen, sipping on coffee.

As its warmth radiates through her throat and chest, Y/N studies him from across the room. He flips through pages of a book as he drinks his coffee, and for a brief moment, his eyes flick up to see her staring.

The action brings a smile to both their faces, and Y/N has never felt happier.

She's never felt more loved.

***

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

Real Artwork [Spencer Reid]

masterlist

pairing - spencer reid x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “first date fluff w spencer”. ok so i got this idea from @randomlimelightxxx (tsym btw). this museum is fictional bc there are no museums close to quantico or in quantico so lol bear with me pls. and this is pretty short, but sweet so enjoy!

summary - spencer takes you to the museum for your first date, but the painting aren’t the thing he’s really admiring

warnings / includes - nothing really, just a little cussing and kissing lol

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You twiddled with your fingers, looking out the cab window. You couldn’t sit still for the life of you. You were beyond nervous. You were going on a date for the first time in a few months. Not only that, but you were going on a date with Doctor Spencer Reid. The Doctor Spencer Reid. The doctor that you had always stared at during the holiday parties you had been invited to that Penelope set up. The doctor that you were too shy to say hi to, even though you were all talk.

You were surprised, to say the least, when Penelope said he had agreed to go on a date with you. Well, more like he basically timidly asked Penelope if you were single and when she said yes, he was jumping for joy and already planning your guys’s date. But you humbled yourself with the word ‘agree’.

You couldn’t understand why he would want to go on a date with you. It’s not that you thought low of yourself - you thought quite the opposite, actually. It’s just that you two had never had an actual conversation before. The most you’ve said to each other were ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ when he held the door open for you once.

Nonetheless, you were very excited and ecstatic - again, to say the least - to go on this date.

“Alright, this is your stop,” the driver interrupted your thoughts.

You snapped your head to her, giving her a smile. “Thank you. Have a night night.” You said, opening the car door.

“You, too, honey,” she smiled. You gave her one last goodbye smile before shutting the car door.

You walked onto the sidewalk, standing still and staring at the museum in front of you. For your first date, Spencer had chosen it since he asked you out first. Technically Penelope had asked you, but you didn’t mind very much. You knew that he was a shy, reserved person. He had chosen the Quantico Art Museum as the location. Honestly, you were thankful he had chosen this place. You had never been there, but you always wanted to go. And now you were able to with Spencer. Plus, any date location/idea you would’ve had probably wouldn’t have been fun or interesting, anyways.

You made your way up the steps of the entrance, adjusting your purse and the straps your tank top. For you date, you had opted out for jeans and a shirt rather than a dress since you would be walking and standing the majority of the time. You had a silk, black tank top that was tucked into your jeans loosely. You wore two-inched shoes that you knew wouldn’t give you a hard time with all the standing, but still made you look dressed up. Your coat was light-weight and more like a cardigan, but it was insulated and had better pockets than a cardigan. You hoped Spencer would like your date attire.

You pulled out your phone, seeing if you had gotten any texts from Spencer to let you know that he was here. Luckily for you, he was. He had texted you that he was in the lobby with your tickets a few minutes ago. He had given you a description of his date attire, just in case you had trouble finding him. You knew that you wouldn’t have trouble with that, though. He would be the most handsome, best dressed man in the room.

As you went to approach the door, your hands starting to get clammy. You wiped them on your coat several times before opening the door. You stepped into the museum, smiling at the few people that were exiting. Your eyes darted around the lobby as you went through the second set of doors. As you stepped inside, your eyes landing on Spencer immediately.

And man, was he gorgeous.

His hair was fluffy and curly around his face. He had a little bit of scruff on his face, but it shadowed his jawline well. He was wearing a plan white button-up with black slacks and a grey tie. He had his signature watch on his right wrist, and big, excited smile on face to tie his whole appearance together. You were right, he definitely was the most handsome man in the room.

Spencer’s gaze fell on you just a few moments after you found him. And let me tell you, he was stunned. No words could describe your beauty and how you made him feel. Before he saw you, he was on edge and doubts were running through his mind. But once he saw you, he relaxed immediately. His heart was still racing a mile a minute, for sure, but he felt relieved that you came and so very lucky, too.

You smiled at you noticed his stare, biting your cheek from smiling too hard. You began to walk up to him, the muffled sound of your heels on the floor echoing with each step. As you got closer, your heart hammered in your chest. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

You stopped in front of him, deciding to break the silence.

“Hi.” You spoke. A shy, but also excited smile lighting up your features.

His smile got impossibly bigger at the sight of yours. “Hey.”

You two stared at each other for a few moments, admiring each other’s appearances. Spencer was the one to break the silence with a compliment.

“You look beautiful… stunning.. um, amazing.”

The heat rose to your neck and your gaze on him faltered. You began to find the floor a lot more interesting. “Thank you. You look handsome. Like um, really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Are you uh, ready?”

You looked back up and nodded in reply.

“Great. Uh, let’s check in. Have you ever been here before?” He asked, getting out the tickets from his pocket.

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go,” you answered.

“This place is so cool. It's one of my favourite museums, besides the science museum,” he chuckled.

You smiled at his little laugh. “Well, I’m glad I got to go here with you.”

The tips of his ears turned pink and he looked down shyly. You two walked up to the front desk. Spencer handed the man your tickets. The man scanned them, handing the tickets and two red-coloured paper bracelets.

“Put these on so our staff know you’ve been checked in. Do you two need a map of the museum?” The man asked.

Spencer looked to you for the answer. You glanced at him, then back at the man.

“No, thank you. He’s been here a bunch of times, he can be the tour guide,” you answered, nudging Spencer slightly.

The man and Spencer smiled at your reply.

“Alright, sounds good. You two enjoy your visit,” the man said.

You and Spencer said your ‘thank you’s’, walking away from the desk. You two stopped next to a pillar, putting on your bracelets.

“Thank you for buying my ticket, by the way,” you said.

“No problem. I uh, I heard that if a guy asks the girl on the first date, then he should pay,” he explained sheepishly.

You grinned, “Ah. Well, very true.”

He smiled back at you for a few moments, admiring your features once more. You two began walking again, going to the first exhibit that housed contemporary paintings. You admired a painting of what looked like to be a crowd of people dancing when Spencer spoke.

“This artist died when he was only 37.”

Your brows raised and you looked to him. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” he explained. “Wow,” you frowned. “How unfortunate.” “Yeah. He painted this when he was only 16.”

“Talented guy,” you remarked, looking back at the painting.

Spencer nodded in agreement, looking back at the painting, but sneaking glances at you every other second.

You two moved on to different sections, making conversation to get to know each other. Spencer listened to you as you talked about your childhood. As he listened, he tried to keep his staring to a normal amount, but he couldn’t. Something about you was so addicting to look at. He didn’t know if it was the way you talked with your hands, the way your lips would spread into a smile when describing a happy memory, the way your eyes would light up, too. You were just so enticing.

You noticed his stares and tried to fight off the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach. No guy had ever paid this much attention to you before. Especially not a guy like Spencer. There were times where his stare was just burning into your side, and it caused you to stutter on your words a little.

“S-So, um,” you spoke, trying to gather your train of thought.

Spencer just kept staring, honestly completely oblivious to how he was making you feel.

“So um, that’s me,” you finished off with a chuckle. Spencer smiled, “Very interesting stuff.”

“No,” you shook your head, lowering your head. “No, I’m serious. I mean, i’ve never heard of someone breaking that many bones in such a short span of time,” he teased.

You let out a hearty laugh, nodding your head and looking back up. “Yeah, well, I was a routy kid.”

Spencer smiled at your response, turning his head back to the paintings. You let out a little breath of relief. It’s not that you didn't like him staring at you. No, you loved it, actually. It was just so unexpected and you at times you wondered if there was something on your face. You pushed your doubts away, knowing that if that was true, surely Spencer would have said something.

You decided to make a little move of your own, though. You two went up to the second floor, stepping in the elevator. You two were the only ones in there and after Spencer pressed the number two button, you moved your hand so it touched his.

Spencer froze once he felt your hand on his. You noticed his reaction, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together. You scooted closer to him so your shoulders were touching. You were looking down at the floor as Spencer was looked at you, surprise written all over his face. It hadn’t expected to be touched tonight. Especially not by you. He didn’t mind it, though, not at all.

He felt himself relax into into your touch, leaning against your arm slightly. A big smile spread across his face as you lifted your head, looking at him. You noticed his smile and mirrored it. You two didn’t say anything, the looks in your eyes already speaking the words for yourselves.

The elevator door opened and you two stepped out hand-in-hand. Content smiles rested on both of your faces as you went to the next exhibit. The rest of the night you two kept close like this. You were either holding hands or touching arms. You even rested your head on his shoulder once while admiring a painting of two lovers kissing and surrounded by nature.

It was at this moment where Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Not like he could before, but he literally couldn’t. His eyes were glued to you. You looked so cute with your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes bright and wide as you looked over the painting. Your body was warm and made him feel safe and secure in the big museum, something he rarely felt in his daily life. Not to mention, you looked great next to him. You two fit perfectly together.

“Such a pretty piece of artwork,” you mumbled.

Spencer nodded, still looking down at you. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

You looked up at, surprised to see him staring at you. Your eyes widened once you realised that he wasn’t talking about the painting, but that he was talking about you. You hoped, at least. You decided to ask him to confirm your beliefs.

“W-What?” You squeaked.

Spencer smiled at you, looking deep into your eyes. “I said… You’re beautiful.”

Your knees buckled and you began to fall, but Spencer was quick too catch you. His hands went around your waist and your heart started racing impossibly faster. You also caught yourself on his shoulders, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you back on your feet. Your gaze fell on his lips and you licked your own, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Your eyes trailed back up to his eyes, your whole body now getting warm in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I can be pretty clumsy,” you chuckled.

“It’s alright. Me, too,” he gave you a soft smile.

You nodded, your eyes finding their way back to his lips. Spencer noticed and started to lean in. He had been wanting to kiss you all night and he found that now would be the prefect chance.

You noticed him leaning in and you did the same, meeting him halfway. You pressed your lips to him gently. You kissed him, quietly moaning at the feeling. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist and your hands made their way to the back of his neck, entangling your fingers in his curl, soft hair. Kissing him felt so damn good.

You were the first to pull away, opening your eyes and looking at his. A smile crept on your face as the realisation of what you had just done entered your mind.

“You’re a lot more forward than I thought,” you remarked.

“Sometimes people can surprise you,” he grinned. You chuckled in agreement with his comment. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me this whole time?”

“Y-You noticed that?” Spencer asked, suddenly growing shy.

“Well, it wasn’t very subtle,” you giggled.

Spencer smiled softly at your laugh. “Yeah, I have been staring at you the whole night.”

“Any reason?” You hummed, running your hands through his locks.

“Because…” his voice trailed off. He had a reason he just didn’t want it to seem corny. “Well, because you’re the real artwork here.”

You giggled at his answer, feeling your heart flutter

“What? Was that cheesy?” He asked.

“A little?” You nodded. “But cute, nonetheless. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s true,” he shrugged.

You smiled brightly and leaned up to place a sweet kiss to his lips. “Well, wanna keep on admiring me while I admire the paintings, and possibly you?”

Spencer laughed, nodding his head. “I’d love to.”

————

bye bc this sucks lol

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spencers-dria · 3 years

Note

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #prison reid #post prison spencer #spencer reid x y/n

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a-supernatural-writer · 3 years

Note

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look.

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge.

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining.

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them.

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy.

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest.

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes.

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko.

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green.

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look.

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess.

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour.

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute.

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it.

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips.

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night.

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along.

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so.

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions.

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights.

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here.

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it.

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to.

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort.

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks.

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings.

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat.

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm.

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires.

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them.

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed.

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out.

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own.

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Blurb #9

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Female Reader

CW- none

Author’s Note- this comes from this ask by @leahblackk thanks so much for this love!! it was so much fun to write 💛 also sorry if it looks a little wonky I’m on mobile!!

Word Count— 2K (not really a blurb)

Studies show that the music we listen to at 14 years old is the most influential on our personality and development. Naturally, there’s some exceptions to this. Spencer, for one, tended to listen to classical music or the Beach Boys records his mother had around the house as a teenager. He still can’t listen to jazz without the bittersweet memories of Ethan coming back to haunt him. His music taste, in his opinion, didn’t really develop until Derek made him listen to his CDs on rides during their commute.

It wasn’t until he met his neighbor, Y/N that he learned just how impactful music can be on someone’s life. Spencer, despite Derek and Penelope’s efforts, doesn’t really enjoy modern music. There’s one expectation to that though: Y/N. Everytime she drags him over for late night dinners and movie nights, she always ends up putting a Taylor Swift album on her vintage record player. It’s like a ritual that either comforts her, hypes her up, or softens her heartbreak. Through the months that they’ve been friends, Spencer’s come to enjoy the music nights. There’s something about the way that she sings about love and life that is so familiar to Spencer. The day he realized, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Y/N makes all those magical, heartwarming, Taylor Swift songs make sense.

So everytime he goes over to her apartment, before he knocks he’ll listen for the music. It’s hard to not let his profiling instincts kick when he does this. Thanks to his eidetic memory, Spencer can recognize any of the songs with only a couple seconds of the lyrics.

On a sunny Monday, Spencer listens closely for the record player. He can hear the upbeat, dance tunes of New Romantics. Okay, he thinks. If Y/N is listening to that song, she’s probably happy. So he knocks on the door, a big smile on his face ready to listen to the happiest Taylor Swift songs with the girl he’s pining for and try not to reveal just how much he wants her to love him back.

“Spence! Come on, we’re dancing” Y/N shouts loudly above the music. Spencer doesn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her he doesn’t dance, so he takes her hand and dances his heart away.

In between the jumpy and laughter the song shifts. Y/N must be playing it from her Alexa because the next song is from a different album, Paper Rings comes on next. A song dedicated to the kind of love that probably makes the most sense to Spencer. He’d marry Y/N without any kind of ring- and that’s a terrifying thought.

“I love this song!” Y/N says, closing her eyes and dancing wildly, “You like this one too, right Spence?” she says above the loud music.

Spencer, unable to fully articulate how much he loves this song, decides to grab Y/N by the hand and twirl her around and around. She’s laughing and smiling, happy as she could be. Spencer’s thoughts shift from how beautiful she looks, to how easy this is. How simple loving her could be, but how hard telling her is.

The music slows, turning to Lover, a song that Spencer has dreamt of dancing with Y/N to on a white veiled occasion several times. This must be her happy playlist, Spencer thinks as she pull him close. They’re slow dancing and if Spencer closes his eyes and quiets his mind, he can trick himself into thinking she loves him back. Afterall she holds him like she does.

“I like this one the best,” Spencer whispers, his eyes still closed as he and Y/N sway to the beat of the song, “It’s comforting,” he explains.

“It’s a good wedding song,” Y/N says, resting her head against his shoulder, “like a first dance song,”

“It is,” Spencer says, “It’s actually in the proper beats per second to be a waltz, which is a common dance for a traditional first dance at a wedding,”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, pulling herself in closer to Spencer as she pets small circles into his soft cardigan. The spot where she touches leaves her mark; his heart has belonged to her for awhile now, but Spencer’s ready to give her whatever else she wants, “but dancing like this is also very nice,”

“Hmm,” Spencer says, not trusting himself to say anything else. The music switches again, and Spencer knows the song, probably before even Y/N. Dress comes on and Spencer really isn’t sure how he’ll get through listening to the sultry song that croons about pining after your best friend. Part of him seriously thinks he’s being stalked, because those songs perfectly encapsulate his love and his admiration for the girl next door.

“Oh, I got asked out on a date,” Y/N says, seemingly shocking Spencer out of his daydream, “at the coffee shop. His name is John, he seems nice,” she tells him, sounding a little nervous.

“That’s great, Y/N,” Spencer says, trying to put on a smile for his best friend, but fails to do so, “I’m happy for you,”

“Well it’s, you know. I think I just need to put myself out there and stop waiting around for my wild dreams to come true. Because after all your wildest dreams are just that, dreams,” she says, a little sadly.

“Call me after, Y/N, just to make sure you get home safe,” Spencer requests, he squeezes her hand, in what he hopes can be seen as a friendly gesture, despite him not wanting to let go.

“Of course, Mr. FBI,” Y/N teases, “Alexa, shut up! Hey, Spence, you want to order pizza. It’s been like a week since I watch Long Pond and I’ve got that itch that only listening to This Is Me Trying while stuffing my face with pizza and white wine can fix,”

“Sure, Y/N,” Spencer says, smiling through his heartbreak. He tries to not let Y/N see the tears that prickle in the corners of his eyes when the 1 comes on. It would have been fun, if he could have been Y/N’s “1”. Even in heartbreak, Taylor Swift can capture exactly what Spencer feels.

He almost didn’t bother checking by her apartment because he knew it’s her date with Jake or John, or whatever his name was. Spencer’s not a man to get jealous, he knows that Y/N doesn’t owe him her love just because he loves her. He knows that, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt of her falling for someone other than him.

As he walks by, Spencer’s ears catch the music coming from her apartment. He hears the unrecognizable twangy strum of the guitar and knows it’s going to be back news. Without thinking, Spencer rumages into his pocket, looking for his spare key to Y/N’s apartment. He unlocks the door and is greeted by Y/N’s cat, August, meowing at the door.

“Where’s our girl?” Spencer says, picking up the cat as he slips off his shoes, “hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer. I heard the music and I just thought I’d check in. I thought you were going out on your date?” he asks, finding Y/N curled up on the couch, with piles of tissues littered around her.

“Please, Spence. I’m a mess. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially you,” Y/N tells him, mopping her eyes up and petting her lap for August to jump up.

“Hey, hey, honey. You don’t have to worry about being a mess in front of me, I already think you’re amazing,” Spencer says, softly. He tries to gracefully avoid the spoiled tissues, he might be in love with Y/N, but he’s not in love with her used tissues.

“He-he stood me up,” Y/N stutters as a new wave of tears floods her face. Spencer leans over, shutting Alexa off. The sorrow, regretful tunes of Dear John turn off, leaving Spencer with the thought that it probably was an appropriate song to choose.

“I don’t even know why I try any more, Spence” she says, leaning into his body as he puts a comforting and protective arm around her upper half, “it’s useless. I’m doomed to be alone,”

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Spencer says, mumbling into her hair, “not at all. You’re amazing. You’re kind and so smart. You’re beautiful and you have great taste in music. Anybody would be lucky to date you,” he finishes, forgetting himself for a second as he kisses her hair. She smells like green apples and ivory soap.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” Y/N says. The emphasis on ‘friend’ giving Spencer a little hope at what she is subtly implying.

“What-what if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t saying this as just a friend?” Spencer asks, daring to be bold and brave for once in his life. He couldn’t be bold and brave for Y/N, then who is he?

She must be thinking, because Y/N doesn’t say anything. Spencer’s mind instantly switches into full gear, thinking of how he’d get out of here all while sparing his feelings.

“Please don’t say those things, Spencer. Don’t say those things unless you mean it,” Y/N tells him, her voice sounding cold and far off, like she’s trying to put some distance between themselves to protect herself. Spencer’s mind ventures to take it as a good thing, when she doesn’t physically distance herself. She decides to stay with Spencer’s arms wrapped around her upper half and his hands drawing shapes on her back.

“I mean it, Y/N. I really do mean it,” Spencer says, sounding terrified, but feeling braver than ever. “I’d never lie to you about how you make me feel. Not anymore at least,” he explains, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“Can I show you something?” Y/N ask, her voicing sounding an awfully lot like Spencer’s with the mix of fear and tension and love fighting for dominance.

“Of course,” Spencer says, nodding into her hair and letting her go.

He watches and waits as she grabs her phone from the coffee table. Y/N launches her music app, but covers her phone so Spencer can’t see which playlist she’s choosing. Y/N has very curated Taylor Swift playlists kko that help her to either middle through her dark days or celebrate her happy ones.

The music starts and just within the first few notes Spencer can tell which song is playing. “Gold Rush,” he asks, of course getting it correct and making Y/N smile.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Y/N says, scooting in closer to Spencer so his chin rests over her head. “I don’t think you’ve heard this playlist yet,” she says, handing him her phone.

Spencer looks at the phone, reading the playlist title Songs That Remind Me of Spencer, but ends up having to do a double take.

“This song always reminded me of you, Spence. I think it just captures how beautiful you are and how scared I am that you’ll find someone that will make you feel that way. Someone that’s more beautiful and better for you—“

Spencer can’t hear it anymore so he does something that was only a figment of his imagination: he kisses Y/N. He holds her head in his hands, brushing gently on her temples. It’s wonderful and magical, and Spencer thinks that he could kiss her for his whole life. He wants to know what makes her whimper and whine or make her flush. He wants to know everything about her because he is her 1, just as she is his.

“You made a playlist for me?” Spencer says, breaking away from Y/N’s lips to kiss her face. All over her forehead, her cheeks and eyes. He kisses her like he can’t get enough and is only encouraged by Y/N giggles for approval.

“Of course I did, Spence. You’re just everything to me and I couldn’t quite say it myself. So I left it up to the best songwriter I know,”

“I’ll make you one, today. Tomorrow, everyday,” Spencer says, kissing Y/N’s hands and wrists, “I just want to make you happy and know how loved you are. Because I love you, Y/N” Spencer says

“Spence,” Y/N says, not quite able to articulate how much she loves him, kisses his forehead, “I love you. God. I love you so much. And I may or may not have re-written Hey Stephen as Hey Spencer,”

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurbs #Spencer Reid x reader

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lilacyennefer · 3 years

Text

Cardigan

A/N: Ever since I heard the song ‘Cardigan’ by Taylor Swift I knew that I’m going to write a fic based on the song, so here it is now! I was working on this piece the whole weekend because I wanted it to be really good, I honestly don’t know if I succeeded because I’m truly insecure about this one. Feedback is always appreciated ♥️ (I do NOT own the song or the lyrics, all credit goes to the original authors)

WARNING: none, maybe just a mention of a sick mother

For Angel, you’re always going to be that one thing in life that he will regret forever.

You were high school lovers, but even after graduating, you stayed together.

Your parents knew each other, your mother had a flower shop in front of Felipe’s butcher shop, on the other side of the road, and your mother was best friends with Marisol, meaning you spent your whole childhood with the Reyes brothers.

You were in the same age as Angel, and from the very first moment you met as children, the two of you clicked.

The two of you went into the same classes, always sat next to each other, talked about everything, until one day something shifted between you two, and you started falling in love with each other.

After high school, neither of you went to college, you helped your mother out with her flower shop, she needed some help, and Angel was prospecting to the local MC.

You stayed together, until you didn’t.

Remembering back to the days when the two of you were so young, and so in love, when you were dancing under the streetlights in the middle of the night on the empty streets of Santo Padre, or when you parked your car somewhere to make out without getting disturbed.

Thinking back to these memories, you still feel how Angel’s hands were sneaking their way up under your sweatshirt.

But almost 10 years passed since that one night happened that changed everything.

You wanted to surprise Angel at the clubhouse, you knew there will be a party tonight, he mentioned it to you, but you weren’t sure about joining him, so you said maybe, you’ll show up.

Angel took this as a no, he knew you didn’t like parties that much, you always went just because of him.

Bishop gave prospect Angel some free time, and many beers later Angel found a woman in his lap who wasn’t you.

Was he too drunk to refuse the flirting of the beautiful woman sitting on his lap, or was he young and foolish? Thinking back, Angel still doesn’t know the answer to that.

But that night lives in both of your memories painfully vividly, when you stepped into the clubhouse looking for Angel, only to find him making out with another woman.

Angel didn’t see you at first, he only saw you when you threw a drink on both of them, making them gasp, Angel angrily looked for the person who soaked both of them in the alcoholic drink, only to find you standing in front of him, angry as ever.

“It’s over!” Is all you say as you storm outside of the clubhouse, Angel trying to catch up with you, but you were already in your car, driving away.

That was the last moment he saw you, since that night you left the town, and you only came back to visit your mother in secret.

Angel Reyes regrets a lots of things in his life, but his ultimate regret is letting you go, and fucking up his relationship with you.

He was convinced that your love was that king of love that happens only once in 20 lifetimes. He once talked about this with Coco, and his answer to Angel was that he was young, and he knew nothing.

But, he knew that every kiss of yours lingered like a tattoo kiss, reminding him of the matching tattoo you got with him after both of you turned 18.

Back then, it seemed like a good idea, you were so convinced that you’ll stay together forever, nothing ever will break the two of you apart, so one night you presented your idea to Angel, who was more than down to it.

Deciding what you wanted was a lot more difficult, it caused not one argument until you found the idea that you both liked.

Both of you wrote down each other’s initials, so you got an “A” tattooed on you with Angel’s handwriting, and Angel got the first letter of your first name with your handwriting.

It was small, but meaningful.

The past 10 years Angel couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs, his questions haunted him.

What if that night you came earlier, before he fucked it all up?

What if it was just the matter of time, until he fucked it up?

What if it never happened and the two of you were still together?

What if you were already married, and have children?

The thought of seeing you walking down the aisle in a white dress made Angel’s heart clench, knowing it will never happen.

At first, he tried to find you, he went to your mother’s flower shop every day to ask about you, but your mother sent Angel away every time, although her heart broke for both of you.

Your mother adored Angel, and Angel adored your mother. She was always supportive of your relationship with the biker, she always said that Angel looks at you like you created the whole universe, with such love and adoration that she never saw before.

But you were her daughter, so she protected you.

10 years.

So many things happened in 10 years.

You cursed Angel for a very long time after you left, completely heartbroken.

You didn’t understand how he could do this to you, when everything was perfect.

But maybe that was the problem, because in this world, perfection is rare, and when you find it, it won’t stay with you for long.

Especially not in the world where Angel lives in.

Now as you were driving back to Santo Padre, thinking about that you have to move back because your mother got sick and she can’t take care of the shop anymore, made your stomach drop unpleasantly.

You knew that it was just the matter of time until Angel will know that you’re back in town, either he will see you, or someone else will, and they’ll tell him.

With every inch of your body, you wanted to push your feelings away that you still feel for Angel.

He not only left a mark on your body with the tattoo, but also on your heart and soul. He was your first love, your only love for that matter, your best friend, and even dare to say that, your soulmate.

After arriving back to Santo Padre, you moved in with your mother, so you could help her with the housework, and the next day, you started your day in the shop, more nervous than you ever were.

With a dry throat, and a knot in your stomach, you parked your car in front of your mother’s shop.

You took a few deep, calming breaths, and looked around the street, it was early morning, so it wasn’t that busy yet.

Getting out of the car, your eyes unconsciously shifted to the butcher shop in front of you, making your heart drop when you saw an old man reading his morning news paper in front of the shop.

It’s like he could sense it, Felipe turned his head towards your direction, his eyes finding you.

You cursed when you saw Felipe looking at you, but you ignored him as you opened the shop, preparing yourself for a scold from your mother, since she still were friends with the oldest Reyes man.

It was now just the matter of time until Angel hears that you’re in town. You try to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation, you don’t know anything about him other than him now being a full patched member of the MC.

The first few hours in the shop were relaxed, some of your mom’s friends came in to ask how she was doing, but other than that it was all quiet.

Your back was turned against the door as you were placing some decorations on the wall when you heard the bell ring, signaling you that someone entered the shop.

“Just a second!” You say without turning back as you do some finishing touches on the decoration.

“Do you still like iced coffee?” You hear a deep voice that you know so much ask, making you turn in horror.

After Felipe saw you, he immediately called Angel, letting him that you’re in town.

Felipe always loved you, he thought you were a good influence on Angel, and the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Angel got the phone call, his heart dropped, and he knew he had to do something. The hopeless romantic in Angel, a part of him only you saw and he buried deep down after you left, hoped that you would get back together with him, but realistically Angel just wanted to see you, and apologize to you.

He had no excuses, but he knew that you deserved an apology at least.

So Angel got himself together, he took a shower, he put on his nicest shirt, and his special cologne that he only used rarely.

When you were younger, and you had an argument with Angel, the next day he always brought you your favourite iced coffee as a peace offering.

Angel hoped you still liked iced coffee as he was picking it up from your favourite place in town, then heading towards the flower shop.

You knew this moment would come, when you meet with Angel again after all those years, but you could never prepare for this moment.

Angel looked amazing, he aged like fine wine, he definitely looked a lot more mature than when you left him, but you still could feel his playful charm that you loved so much, what now was invisible under his nervousness.

“I do.” You nod, your voice is small.

Angel hesitantly steps closer to you, placing the cup of coffee down on the counter in front of you.

He was more nervous than he thought he would be, as he was looking at you, he suddenly forgot everything that he wanted to say.

“Y/N, look.” Angel sighs, he nervously shifts his weight on his legs “I don’t have any excuse about what happened. I know it’s late, but I want you to know that I’m really sorry what happened. I regret it every day of my life.”

You listen to his words, tearing up the old wounds, making your heart ache once again.

You’re silent for a while, not knowing what to say as you look at the man who used to mean the world to you.

“Here’s my phone number and address.” Angel says as he places a small paper next to your coffee “In case you want to talk.” And with that, he left the shop.

This is definitely not how Angel planned to see you again. During getting ready, and picking up the coffee for you, he prepared a full speech to you, telling everything he wanted in a few minutes. But when he saw you he froze, being more nervous than he ever was.

Once again, Angel cursed himself as he drove away from your shop, leaving you alone with your coffee.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything to Angel since he stormed out of the shop, leaving you speechless. You silently picked up the iced coffee, its smell bringing a smile to your lips from the old memories, when you were happy with Angel.

While sipping the coffee, you constantly stared at the piece of paper that was still on the counter where Angel left it. Finally picking the paper up it felt really heavy in your hand, the emotional weight of it sitting heavily on your soul.

Angel made his first move, and now it’s clearly your turn to decide what to do. So many happened during 10 years, so many changed, and so many stayed the same.

You were still hurt by what he did, but you weren't angry anymore, but you always avoided Angel because you were afraid of your feelings, afraid that you’ll get hurt again just by seeing him, and you didn’t want to put yourself through that. But you undeniably still had feelings for Angel, something that you could never get rid of, your mother always said that you were soulmates, and that’s why you could never truly get over him.

Making the decision that at least you should get the chance to talk to him, after closing the shop you picked up some food from a local restaurant, and headed towards the address that he gave you.

Parking your car in front of his house, you saw his bike parked there, signaling you that he’s at home, hopefully alone.

You nervously knock on his door, holding your breath as you wait for him to open the door, seconds later the door opens, finding yourself face to face with a very surprised Angel.

“Are you hungry?” You hold up the bag full of food “I figured we should talk.”

Angel nods, opening the door wilder, letting you step into his house.

“I brought our old favourites, I hope that’s okay.” You say nervously.

You look up at Angel, you can see the earlier nervousness on his face.

You take a deep breath and say “I think it's easier if we talk first.”

“I’m sorry—“ Angel starts, shaking his head.

“What happened that night?” You cut him off, not caring about the excuses.

Angel sighs as he drops his shoulders “I honestly don’t know. I had too many drinks and I fucked it up. I could blame it on the drinks, but I won’t. I don’t want to bullshit you. I fucked it up, and I regret it every fucking minute of my life.”

You silently watch him. You always knew when Angel lied, you don’t know how, but you could always feel when he’s not telling the truth. But right now, you can tell that he’s saying the truth, and he’s actually sorry for what happened.

“I believe you.”

Your words made Angel let out a loud sigh, making him feel like years and years of pain was lifted off his shoulders.

“Y/N.” Angel whispers your name “I need to know. I need to know if there’s still a chance.”

Angel couldn’t wait with his question, he knew it was risky, but the uncertainty was slowly killing him, and he already wasted a decade, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

“I’m honestly not sure, Angel.” You shake your head “Let’s just eat, talk, and see what happens, okay?” Angel nods “It’s more than I could hope for.”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed, You put me on and said I was your favorite.

Taglist: @gemini0410 @rosieposie0624 @blessedboo @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @mrsmarvelous1995 @phoenixhalliwell @rocketqueen @witching-hour @starrynite7114 @bellisperennis0

#clayton cardenas #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader

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jiminiediminie · 3 years

Text

A not-at-all brief commentary on BE-hind story interview.

We really got over an hour of BTS just talking about their music. They really told the media yall don’t ask the right questions so let me do it for you. Love that for them.

But honestly I am so happy that they decided to do this. Because most of the time interviewers don’t ask the right questions or it is in a situation where they have time constraints. Or the interviewer never even listened to the album in the first place (think james corden saying his favorite track on be is dynamite probs because it seemed like that was the only one he knew).

I appreciate as well that it is the members interviewing each other. They could have just as easily sat each member in a room and asked them the questions off screen. But they didn't. I think that adds such a personal element to the interview. Bts members likely know about each other’s music (even solo music) better than anyone else. So who better to talk with the members about their music than each other?

Running commentary of each interview below the cut.

JK interviews Jin

Blonde jk for the win

I lost count of how many times they shook hands please they are so annoying

Jin please don’t downplay your talents. That hurt my heart. If I could describe his voice in one word it would have been powerful. I hope that jin got to see all the praise after the fix you cover. Because he killed it in that.

I loved getting to hear the behind the scene of jin’s role in stay; I didn’t know his role in it before he talked about it.

I’m glad jin got to release abyss and put so much of his own work into it. It is also so amazing to hear how much help joon is to all of the members when it comes to lyrics and music. A talented king.

Slightly surprised there wasn't more clowning around in their interview since these two are usually so chaotic together. I thought jk would clown jin when they started talking about jin being older but he didn't. Growth.

Hobi interviews JK

Hobi looks so soft in that cardigan

Hobi right off the bat asking about the mixtape. He knows what we want.

Jk talking about how he wants to try writing songs not just about his own experiences was so interesting to hear; can’t wait to see what he comes up with in the future.

Him talking about all the different things he wants to try but it’s almost too many was very relatable. That feeling of having so many choices you don't know where to start. But that does mean that when we do get a mixtape from him it will be from varying styles of music and i am all here for that. Personally holding out for rocker jk or acoustic jk.

His favorite song to sing is euphoria; that’s so sweet it is such a gem of a song. I think I would have chosen still with you since it’s pretty different than a lot of the other songs he sings.

Hobi saying “you’re all grown up” to jk and jk saying “i'm not the old me” really hit me in the feels. Hobi and bts really did watch jk grow from a slightly awkward pre-teen to the confident man he is today. They must feel so proud of him. 23 yo jk is not a baby of bts anymore. He does what he wants. He wears what wants. He has long hair and dyes it blonde then blue just because he can. He even talked about how his voice has matured. Im glad that the members see that too and seem to be proud of the person he has became.

3 main tracks. 3 mv. 3 choreos of different styles. Yes do it jk please im begging. After seeing him dance in black swan at mma i want to see more contemporary dancing from him. And i feel like after getting still with you and stay he can write songs that would fit that vibe. I just want to see jk’s dance talent showcased more.

I don’t know if the fans could survive 3 separate jk mv. We barely survived a live performance of my time.

Tae interviews Hobi

Tae in that emerald green sweater. He looks so good. He should wear that color more

I love how serious tae is about playing the interviewer. The actor in him never sleeps.

Hobi talking about the dual meanings behind the title of Dis-ease was so cool. Fans obviously caught that it could mean multiple things. But as far as i know that was never confirmed. Now that it is I am once again impressed with the thought they put behind everything they do.

A psychological occupational disease. Your mind hobi

I think it’s so cool that hobi recorded it by himself and how he said that doing it like that allows him to grow as a producer since he has to listen and edit himself. They really just always continue to grow in their roles in music don’t they?

Hobi talking about how he would love to solve his own problems but then remembering that he is part of a team really shows how much they trust and rely on each other. So he and jimin worked on the melody of the bridge together and then joon wrote the lyrics. And now we have the most iconic bridge of all time. Still holding out for a dis-ease live performance or music video (I’m a clown I know).

And lol at tae being like call me next time dude

“I would like to share my music with everyone” -- please do

Please tae is so sweet and attentive!? “When you talked about music i noticed you had a smile on your face and i thought ‘he really loves music’”. “But personally if i had your skills I’d be showing off and be proud of myself”. Kim taehyung is the embodiment of a teddy bear

And closing it with actor tae again -- “can i get your autograph”

Jin interviews Jimin

Two seconds into the interview they are clowning each other with jin saying to talk informally. Yet as soon as jm did (and that slight smile when he did), jin is like I was talking to myself. Chaotic as expected of these two.

Jm talking about his process for music being “just go as i feel” makes so much sense for him. He is an easy going person and it makes sense that it reflects in his work style.

It’s so cool that him coming up with the melody of the dis-ease bridge was just because he was humming to himself and the producer liked it -- almost serendipitous if you will

I love when people praise jimin for his vocals. So hearing him talk about how they used his vocal in place of a female for lgo’s chorus stroked my jm bias ego

Joon is seriously the best human ever. Jimin didn’t want to bother the other members to help with christmas love but joon contacted him and helped with the lyrics anyway. Bts seriously has the most amazing leader.

“I’d like to try making an acoustic style song”. Please do it jimin. Acoustic bts is my weakness but especially acoustic jimin. Songs like promise sound so good with his singing style.

Jin shaking jimin’s pinky 😂

“I’m a little disappointed in the MC” “but you know if you looked around there is no MC like me” -- jinmin’s relationship everybody

Jimin interviews Joon

Minimoni look so cozy in their sweatshirts sitting on a plush rug.

“You know we have this youngest member”. “Oh jungkook?” “No the real youngest” “Oh seokjin. That’s a shame” -- please minimoni are so funny and joon knew immediately who jm was talking about when he said the real youngest.

“It felt like I was doing the only thing i could do” . Please let me give you a hug joon

Joon’s mind continues to amaze me. How he talked about needing the concept or key word to give “flesh” to the song was such a good way to explain how he approaches music.

“What do you mean little? You play a very big role” -- lol jimin speaking facts. I already mentioned how amazing it is that he helped jimin and jin with their individual songs. The fact that members who want help with their own music always seem to go to joon really tells you how much of an amazing and talented human being kim namjoon is. I can’t remember the context, but there was this moment that jimin (or was it hobi?) said something like “what would we do if we didn't have rm”. They are truly lucky to have him.

Release that minimoni subunit now please and thank you

Tell us what you’re working on joon don't be shy. Joon mentioned that his music is like a diary. I would love to know his thoughts expressed in music now. 2018 joon who made mono and 2021 joon are two very different people. Bts has grown so much since then.

Joon interviews Yoongi

The work colleagues! Did you know they have worked together for 10 years?

Yoongi’s fuzzy sweater. So soft

Yoongi saying he writes songs when he is bored. Lol i love him so much

It’s really interesting to hear them talk about their lyrics getting rejected. I guess we don’t hear much about that part. And lol at joon just laughing and saying he guesses he didn’t grasp tae’s intentions for b&g.

I like that this was more of a conversation than an interview. I love it when these two just sit together and talk about technical stuff that i don’t understand (like the festa interview)

Yoongi is such a good person to make music with. JK wanted to add humming to telepathy? They added humming to telepathy. I had wondered the reason why there are two different versions of the song. I prefer the longer one tbh

Yoongi wants to make an acoustic song? Hell yeah. Jimin does too. So yoongi x jimin subunit acoustic song with yoongi playing the guitar (please). Also a folk song?? Yoongi your taste i like it

I can’t wait to hear yoongi sing im so excited for him

Yoongi talking about how they made this album with no pressure and got to just do what they wanted and that it was received so well. How he wants to keep making music like that. That makes me happy. I want them to continue to get to do that. I love the big productions and concepts of their albums. But if they are happier making albums like be that do not have that then that is what i want them to do.

“Please listen to telepathy a lot” -- what yoongi wants yoongi gets. Go stream telepathy

Yoongi interviews Tae

The title of blue and grey is because tae wants to overcome that feeling. My heart.

He looked so shy talking blue and grey. I am so excited to see him get to talk about kth1 when it comes out. I could listen to him for hours.

English guide track? Release it tae

“I felt kind of proud of myself” -- you should tae

Yoongi straight up asking tae why he didn't include joon’s lyrics was interesting. It’s cool to know that tae had the kind of power to choose what he felt would fit the emotion of the song.

It doesn’t surprise me that tae feels so much pressure to make sure the tape is good before it is released. It seems like when it comes to solo work the members really do feel more pressure since they aren't sharing the burden with the others.

“Please look forward to it” -- don’t worry tae everyone is

We know from the preview that there are 13 songs potentially on the mixtape. That would be so amazing if he released it with so many songs. Tae’s voice sounds so good in so many different styles so i know that it would be so varied.

Final thoughts -- I love that they got to do this. I hope going forward they do this more for their albums. And from what the members said they enjoyed getting to be so involved in the process of making the album. It would be amazing if that continued. While a lot of their hit songs are not made fully by the members, those songs that are often have more meaning to the fans. b&g, stay, telepathy. These were songs from the members. We got to hear their actual thoughts put into these songs. I hope that bh sees how well this album did and lets that continue.

Congrats if you made it to the end!

#my thoughts #bts #ot7 #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jinkook #hopekook #vhope #jinmin #minimoni #namgi #taegi #jikook #naabc

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

If it’s okay, how about “You always do that. You always warm me up.” and/or “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with jontim for the soft sentence prompts? your writing is some of my favourite of all time and your jontim especially is just *chefs kiss* mwah. Incredible.

Some soft JonTim for one of my favorite artists! Always happy to have another friend to spread the good word of this pairing, a particular favorite of mine. Hope you enjoy!

“Jon, you look wrecked.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied said wreck. “I’ve just got a cold, that’s all.”

Tim fixed him with an incredulous look. Jon stumbled through the doors of the library this morning looking for all the world like the equivalent of ‘hammered shit’ (Sasha’s words). Jon’s usual vibe was tired and harried on a good day, but this was pushing it. He only managed to get about half of his hair into a bun, the rest hanging limply around his face. He’d thrown a chunky cardigan over his clothes to hide that they were the same ones from yesterday. It did not work. Complete with red cheeks and bleary eyes, the man was not fit to be in a workplace.

Jon begged to differ. “I’m fine,” he said, burying a cough in his elbow. “I took medicine. Look.” With that, he dug a crushed box of liquid capsules out of his bag and threw it haphazardly in the direction of Tim, who caught it in startled hands.

“This is expired,” he replied after one look at the box. “It’s also not meant for daytime. When did you take this again?” Jon frowned uncomprehendingly as he attempted to parse out the words and Tim would’ve gathered him up in his arms right then if it wouldn’t embarrass him.

“Hmm.” The question should not be difficult. “‘Bout an hour ago, maybe?” Jon listed dangerously to the side, grabbing at his desk to keep steady and in the process knocking an overflowing cup of pencils to the ground. “Oops.” Jon was occasionally a man of few words, but ‘oops’ was not one of them. Tim immediately got to his feet, rushing over to steady him.

“‘Oops’ is right.” He gently managed to get Jon to his feet, leaning most of his body weight against Tim’s side. “You’re going home.” Jon just slumped further into his arms, barely managing a nod. His sudden compliance worried Tim; usually, Jon would put up way more of a fuss, getting snippy and slapping his hands away. This easy submission, while appreciated, made him more nervous than reassured.

“G’bye, Sasha,” Jon attempted a wave on the way out that looked more like a vague swatting of the air. “Tim’s takin’ me home.” She smiled indulgently, giving the two of them a wave in return.

“Take care of your man, Tim! And that’s an order.”

Tim would’ve saluted if he didn’t have an armful of Jon. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Your man?” Jon mumbled as they made their way down the hallway, sinking further into his side. He said it as if the words were foreign, confusing. Tim couldn’t help his laughter.

“Well, yeah.” He nodded in thanks to Rosie, who held the door open on the way out with a pitying look at Jon. The air outside was cold, bracing- Jon’s ridiculously chunky cardigan still wasn’t enough against the wind. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you in your hour of need?” In a stroke of luck, he managed to snag a cab as soon as someone exited at the building next door. The less time outside, the better. “In you go!” He managed to gently extract Jon from his side and maneuver him into the back of the car. He rattled off his own address to the cabbie- if all Jon had at home was an expired packet of night-time medicine, he didn’t have much faith in the rest of his medical supplies.

He shut the car door and turned to find Jon staring at him in a sort of wide-eyed, loopy wonder. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so concerning. “What is it?” he asked, running a comforting hand over his arm. “Are you okay?”

“We’re...boyfriends?” Shit. Tim realized they hadn’t used the term before and here he was, just casually slipping it out. It was not unlike him; Sasha always teased him at how easily he fell in love. But he was trying to take it slowly with Jon, do things right. Jon deserved that.

“I mean...yes?” It came out more nervously than he’d like, Jon was really doing him in with those giant, hopeful eyes. Damn him. He tried for familiar, easy ground. “I’ve been wining and dining you all around town. Do my forehead kisses mean nothing to you?” He put a hand to his chest, dramatic and exaggerated. “I’m wounded.”

“No!” Jon exclaimed, grabbing at the hand on Tim’s chest with an unexpected strength. “I like those. Please don’t stop.” His face was a blazing fever-red and filled with concern, not unlike when he was drunk and oblivious to teasing. “You won’t stop, w-will you?”

Tim’s heart melted without his permission. “Course not.” He took the small hand and squeezed it with his own. Jon sunk into a similarly sappy expression; he had no right being this adorable on expired cold medication. God, he loved him.

Shit.

Jon continued to talk, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Iz’zat why you got me those Valentine’s chocolates?”

Shit.

“And the bear?”

Love? The big ol’ ‘L’ word? What if he’d sprung that on Jon like this, in the back of a cab when he wouldn’t remember it?

“And the balloon?”

How embarrassing for him. Truly.

“And the card?” Tim had forgotten Jon was still talking.

“Yes!” He choked out against Jon’s interrogation. “God, I didn’t realize how much of a sap I was.” Jon giggled in response, a high, happy sound incongruous with his usual sarcastic snorts.

“Yeah, you are.” He snuggled into Tim’s side; he could feel the heat radiating from the man, even through his jacket. “You gotta tell me these things. Else I won’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jon was a literal man, Tim knew this. But he hadn’t exactly been subtle in his overtures.

“Boyfriends,” Jon sighed dreamily. “I like that.”

Hopefully he would remember this conversation.

__________

“This is not my flat.”

“Got it in one, Sherlock.”

He shuffled Jon through the door, depositing him as gently as possible on the couch and wrapping a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, eyes at half-mast and a confused look on his face. “Gonna wait on the paracetamol, at least until the shit you’re on wears off.”

“Hnnh.” Jon leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes in contentment like a particularly lazy cat. “Kay.” Tim puttered about in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and wetting a rag; he should at least attempt to get the fever under control, Jon’s insistence on layers wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t say no to him, shaking and shivering as he was. Jon deserved a blanket burrito if he wanted one.

Tim pushed the glass of water into Jon’s hands, urging him to take a couple of sips before he set it back down. He plopped himself down on the couch, maneuvering Jon so that he was laying against his chest and placing the damp rag on his forehead, despite his protests. “We’re going to watch some crap telly and you’re going to take a nap. Sound good?” He should’ve probably gotten the remote before he laid down, but now that Jon was snuggled against his chest he was pretty much immovable.

“You’re not going back to work?” Jon asked the question as if Tim staying home was uncalled for and strange. He snorted in response. Typical Jon.

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon managed to lift his head a few precious centimeters, though he was straining with the effort. He looked as if he were going to say something very important, but he instead just collapsed back against his chest and buried his face in Tim’s jumper with a lazy purr of contentment. I can’t believe I’m dating a literal cat.

“God, you’re really burning up,” Tim rearranged the towel so it was back on his forehead, having fallen off during Jon’s attempt at conversation.

His next words were muffled against Tim’s chest. “You always do that. You always warm me up.”

Tim almost audibly cooed at the sentiment before seeing an opportunity for a joke and taking it. Let it never be said that Tim Stoker missed an opening.

“Why Jon,” his voice took on an unbearable, teasing tone as his smile grew. “Are you saying I’m so hot I made you sick?” Jon groaned at the words, as expected.

“No.”

“How does that song go, again? You’re givin’ me fev-aah-”

“Shut up, Tim!” He let out a quiet chuckle, giving Jon a light squeeze in apology.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest.” Jon sighed, curling up in his arms. They stayed like that for some time; Tim rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Just when he thought Jon had been lulled to sleep, he spoke up in a quiet tone.

“You...you actually have a nice voice.” The words were slurred and Tim tried not to take offense at the ‘actually’ addendum. “But maybe just a bit quieter. And just a hum. Thanks.”

He snickered. “Will do.”

“Love you.” Tim froze, his hand stilling in its movements. He doesn’t mean it, he told himself firmly. He’s just tired and loopy. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. Still, he responded and the intensity behind the words was surprising even to him.

“Love you, too.”

Jon slept and Tim ran his fingers through his hair, listening to his soft snores. In an hour or two, he’d make him soup and insist on a dose of real meds. And that night, when Jon was curled around him in bed, with clear eyes and a lucid voice he’d repeat the words he mumbled earlier. And he would mean them.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977733

#my writing #prompt fills #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #sickfic #fluff #just two boys in love here #cinnamoniic

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honeyspence · 3 years

Text

a year in clueless love

the love story that is you and spencer reid. follows a year of the two of you being hopeless (and very stupid) romantics.

tw: teeniest bit of spice, mentions of canon typical violence and guns

a/n: doesn’t really follow a specific episode or case. kind of all over the place. also i picture like,, post prison reid in this? who’s a little more confident and up front but still terrified of losing you/ getting hurt. enjoy!! :)

In retrospect, it had been obvious. The way the two of you sought each other out in every room, like it was gravity. They way it didn’t matter if you were on the jet, on the field, or just at Quantico, the two of you were always touching each other. Thighs pushed together, hands brushing under the table, an arm around your shoulders, elbows bumping against each other; always touching. The way you were able to communicate by just looking at each other, which Garcia was convinced was simply telepathy. All in all, you probably didn’t do the best job at hiding whatever was going on with you and Spencer, and it didn’t exactly help that your family/ best friends/ colleagues were the FBI’s top profilers. They pretty much had it figured out before the two of you did.

In January, Morgan and Garcia decided to keep track. Keep track of the moments you and Spencer were so obviously, deliriously, stupidly falling in love. Morgan had to restrain Garcia from squealing every morning when Spencer brought you coffee and every evening when he walked you to your car. In January, the BAU took a case in Kansas; your first case on the field with the team. You tried your best to hide the nerves, but Spencer, of course, noticed as soon as you were on the jet.

“You okay?”

“Yup!” you say, a little too enthusiastically. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You suck at lying.” It's a bit worrying, how you’ve only known each other for a couple months but he knows you oh so well already. You quirk a smile at him.

“I’m fine, really. I guess.. I’m just a little nervous. Wanna make a good impression.”

He laughs, and you wish you could replay it as soon as it’s over. “You’ll do great. Everyone already loves you- especially Hotch.” (This is true, Emily told you she hadn’t ever seen Hotch smile until the day you brought him his favorite coffee and a bagel on his birthday.) “Thanks Spence.” You nudge his shoulder with your own and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Of course, this exchange didn’t go unnoticed. Morgan, everso dedicated to his “make Spencer find love” mission, added it to his list and texted Garcia so fast you might’ve thought it was an emergency.

In February, Emily and JJ joined Morgan and Garcia in their list making, inspired by an exchange they had witnessed in the office. On a dreary Monday, you had brought a bag of M&Ms and were dropping handfuls in your team’s hands, rambling about how Monday was your favorite day because you got to see your team. When you arrived at Spencer’s desk, smiling broadly at him, hands outstretched with slightly melted, rainbow chocolate, how could he say no?

(He briefly remembered that he hated germs, but with you, he couldn’t bring himself to care.)

Emily’s jaw was practically on the floor.

“JJ,” she whisper-screeched. “Did you- Did you see Spence just-”

JJ is equally shocked. Spencer Reid didn’t even shake hands, much less take warm candy straight from someone’s hand. But of course, to him, you weren’t just someone. Garcia notices this quickly, and in minutes, the three of them are huddled with Morgan, who wastes no time in showing them his ever growing list.

In March, the team went to Chicago. The weather takes a bitter turn, and while you’re outside surveying a crime scene, a horrid wind hits. Spencer immediately noticed your gentle shivering, and without wasting a second, tugs his own jacket off and wraps you in it. His hands wrap around your own, warming your numb fingers without a second thought.

(Again, for a split second, he recalls that he hates germs and that your hands are probably sharing millions right now, but when he sees your grateful smile and feels your hands in his own, he can’t bring himself to give a damn.)

“Thank you Spence,” you sigh through chattering teeth, leaning slightly into him.

The cold turns the tip of Spencer’s nose pink, and it's all you can think about for the next week.

In April, the team had a particularly rough case. 5 children kidnapped, only 3 rescued. The parents of the two lost children’s reaction in front of the team was the worst part.

Rough cases affect everyone in different ways. Morgan gets broody and refuses to talk. Hotch writes in his notebook and facetimes Jack, reminding himself of the good things he has. Emily likes to sketch, says that the pattern of lines calms her. Rossi, believe it or not, chooses to meditate. JJ finds peace in baking, making enough to feed your team for days. Spencer, of course, turns to his books.

In April, Spencer learns that you get touchy. Of course, you already were, but after particularly bad cases, it’s a little more extreme. Hands constantly somewhere on someone (usually Spencer) whether it be hand holding, hair braiding, or cuddles. You just wanted to be near someone. In April, Spencer was that someone. A blanket wrapped around the two of you on the jet heading home, Spencer fighting a blush. Hands knotted together under the blanket, your thumb moving back and forth slowly on his hand. Your head on his shoulder, his head resting gently on top. His fingers thumbed at his book, but in all honesty he was too focused on you, already half asleep in his arms.

In May, Rossi has a birthday party. The team gathers at his home, where everyone enjoys his famous pasta and what is probably far too much wine for 4 in the afternoon.

Wine drunk FBI agents are a lot more fun than you ever expected. You spend the afternoon laughing far too hard at Rossi’s old stories and playing hide and seek with Jack and Henry. You also spend far too long avoiding Derek’s pointed looks everytime Spencer holds a door for you or pours you a drink or, in Derek’s thoughts, does something that proves Spencer is so clearly head over heels in love with you.

In May, as the evening dies down, Rossi plays music you’ve never even heard before. Some old classical stuff you had never cared for, but when you see Spencer’s eyes light up with joy at the opening notes, you make a beeline to Rossi because you would do anything, including make yourself listen to classical music, just to have a reason to make Spencer’s eyes shine with happiness like that again.

“What song is this?” you ask Rossi, who gives you an incredulous look.

“You spend all this time with boy wonder over there and you can’t recognize Beethoven?”

You swat at his arm. He laughs at you, tells you it’s Moonlight Sonata, and then winks at you.

He very much knows why you asked, and his suspicions are proven true because right after, you practically skip towards Spencer.

He elbows Hotch and whispers under his breath, “I think our blind love birds might finally have a moment here.” The two of them quietly move the rest of the team inside, and suddenly it’s just you and Spencer outside.

In May, Spencer thinks he drooled when you told him you loved Moonlight Sonata. In a moment of what he can’t decide was brilliance or utter stupidity, he says to you,

“Will you dance with me?”

You’re a blushing, stuttering mess immediately (although he’s not much better), but you manage to tell him yes, absolutely.

In May, as the sun sets slowly, he takes your hand and you dance. He’s wonderful at it, and you’re dreadful, but he couldn’t care less because he has the most beautiful girl on the planet dancing with him. He can hardly believe he’s not dreaming, even when you trip over his feet and apologize a million times, because all he can think about is how beautiful you are, how the pink and orange glow of the sky lights you up like a goddess.

He twirls you, holding your twinkling gaze and biting back his absolutely massive smile as your green dress flows around you over and over again, the white flowers on it dancing with you.

(He never realized how much he loved green until he sees you in it. Then again, he thinks he’d love a garbage bag on you too.)

The air smells like spring and his cologne and his smile makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter so. Damn. Hard.

He whispers to you, “You’re beautiful,” as you rest on his chest, still slowly swaying to the music.

In May, you both leave Rossi’s house with your hearts doing cartwheels.

In June, Owen from 2 levels down asks you to coffee. Tells you he thinks you’re beautiful and that he would love to get to know you. You say yes, trying to ignore the tiny voice telling you that you didn’t want Owen, you want someone else.

In June, Spencer realizes he is hopelessly, terribly, ragingly jealous. He sees you talking to Owen, the gentle touching between you two, the moments of quiet intimacy Spencer realized he wanted with you so. Damn. Bad.

In June, Spencer just wants to go back to May. The night you two danced to Moonlight Sonata, your feet tripping over his and your perfume surrounding him. He curses himself for not telling you right then that you were all he wanted. He desperately wishes he had had the damn guts to kiss you that night.

In June, you go on two dates with Owen before ending it. He was funny, sweet, kind. But he didn’t go on tangents about The Illustrated Man with you. He didn’t bring you coffee in the morning or wear cardigans to work.

In June, Spencer is quietly overjoyed when you tell him you ended things with Owen, that he just “wasn’t right for you.”

In July, he was terrified. A case gone horribly wrong ended with you in the ICU, a bullet lodged in your side. In the bathroom of the hospital, he cried, thinking about how desperately he wished it could have been him. Should’ve been him who took the bullet, should’ve been him in critical condition. How badly he wishes he told you how he felt about you the moment he saw you with Owen. When he comes out, Morgan wraps his arms around him and he is scared.

When the nurse comes out, he braces himself for the worst, pushing the panic down. The thought of losing you- he can’t bring himself to look up when she stands in front of him. When she says that you’re alright and resting, he nearly collapses with relief. When she says you can have visitors now, he is immediately on his feet and rushes until he is by your side.

You sleep as he sits on the chair next to you, far after the rest of the team leaves. Hotch had asked him to get back and get rest, but he refused, instead sitting on the hospital chair with his hand holding your own, like he had all those months ago when he gave you his coat in Chicago.

He watches your gentle breathing, thinking about how peaceful and happy you look in your sleep, despite your recent brush with death. And when you wake up, he presses your hand to his lips and tells you with teary eyes to never, ever scare him like that again.

“I’ll try,” you yawn. “You didn’t have to stay here, ya know. You need to sleep.”

“As if I can sleep when you’re here. Nope, no way. Idiot.” He says, and you hear how his voice is slightly choked up as he starts rambling about how having visitors in the hospital is statistically more beneficial. You can’t quite lift yourself up yet, but you grab his hand and bring it to your own lips as he had done, and press it there for a moment.

(He is blushing. So hard he trails off and stops talking, instead too focused on the way your lips on his hand are so soft. So pretty and gentle and pink and-)

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you for staying. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You say, your heart pounding.

The team comes back in the morning and finds both you and Spencer fast asleep, his head on your hospital bed, your hands knotted tightly. Morgan complains about how long his list has gotten.

In August, Spencer asked you on a date. Well, he doesn’t call it a date. He calls it “dinner with a friend.” But he desperately wants to call it a date. He picks you up from your apartment with a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that,” you say, batting his arm while trying to hide your delight. (No one had ever bought you flowers on a date before.)

But Spencer is so busy staring at you, all dolled up in a little red dress you just knew he’d love.

“N-No- I mean yes, yes I did,” he stumbled. “I mean, you look… you look stunning.”

He takes you to a new Italian place, where you eat on the terrace under the stars and he absolutely refuses to let you touch the bill. He talks to you about his mom, about Mexico, and at the end of it all, he tells you that you make him feel safe. Like he can be himself and ramble on and on; like he can breathe. In August, Spencer drives you home and walks you to your doorstep with your arm looped through his own, your head on his shoulder.

In August, Spencer kissed you so gently, so carefully in front of your front door you think he feared you might break. He held you like a porcelain doll, delicately but oh-so tightly. His lips up against yours, timidly, softly, sweetly, and you felt yourself melt into a fucking puddle when he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours.

In September, you took him to your favorite bookstore. It was a tiny place with a flower garden in front and shelves lined with hundreds of books. It smelled like coffee and old books and lavender, and when you walked in, arm and arm with Spencer, you knew this was heaven. The two of you sat at a little table in the corner for hours, drinking coffee and sharing doughnuts and reading. So much reading. When you finally leave, he buys you the three books you had been reading (at his recommendation.)

“No- no Spence stop!” you say, trying to wrestle his arm away from the checkout. He just laughs at you and pays for them.

In September, Spencer asks you to be his girlfriend outside of the bookstore. He was a clumsy, nervous wreck, but he was finally your clumsy, nervous wreck.

In October, you and Spencer were a secret from the rest of your team. Work lives and personal lives just needed to stay separate, you decided.

(The irony of this was not lost on either of you.)

October was spent with kisses in quiet corners and sneaking into hotel rooms like high schoolers when you were traveling for cases. It was a month of countless movie marathons and Spencer falling asleep with you in his arms, countless mornings of driving each other to work and Spencer’s hand on your thigh. Longing stares at each other from across the office, little doodles and notes left on post-its on each other's desks. Hands knotted together under tables, quiet hugs whenever they seemed the least suspicious. Spencer bringing you flowers on every date, you kissing the tip of his nose in thanks and smiling when it always turns pink.

(He still says it’s from the cold. You’re starting to think you just have that effect on him.)

Of course, when you work with profilers, they tend to notice these things. Yet, none of them put together that you and Spencer were actually together. They just kept building their now massive list and watched the two of you fall even harder. Watched you take Garcia’s unicorn stickers and leave them on Spencer’s cheek, where he would leave it there for hours. Watched Spencer bring you a new book every Monday and then discuss it with you every Friday.

In October, Spencer had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and yours already halfway off. Gentle kisses up and down your neck, hands wandering up and down your body. Pulled you into his room, stared at you with those warm brown eyes you absolutely adored. Your hands in his hair, his mouth on your own when someone knocks on the door.

“Maybe,” he pants breathlessly against you,”Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll just leave.” You’re in no position to argue; you have no desire to stop. You hum in agreement and pull him back to you when the knock gets harder and you hear, “Spencer! Open the door, it’s Garcia and Morgan!”

Your first instinct is to literally hide. The worst two people to find you like this, but here they were. Spencer convinces you this is a bad idea and throws you your clothes as the two of you scramble to look presentable and like you were absolutely not doing what you absolutely had been doing.

In October, you thought you managed to convince Morgan and Garcia that you two were just hanging out. They left Spencer’s apartment in a whirlwind of giggles and were elated. Needless to say, the rest of your team was alerted to your antics within the next 10 minutes.

In November, you had the “big confrontation.” Also known as Hotch pulling the two of you into his office with a stern look.

(Which he was actually struggling very hard to hold because he was so-very-happy-Spencer-was-happy and the-joy-radiating-off-the-two-of-you-was-quite- frankly-contagious.)

He tells you not to be all over each other in the office and to remain professional and blah blah blah, but Spencer swears that Hotch actually smiled when the two of you left his office.

In November, your team is overjoyed. Garcia tears up when you take Spencer’s hand in front of the team. Morgan and Rossi offer to throw a party the first time they watch Spencer kiss you on the cheek. JJ and Emily squeal when you sneak your arms around Spencer’s waist while he packs up. And Hotch, Hotch struggled to hide how goddamn happy he was. He was so thankful every time he saw you together, because you radiated smiles and happiness and joy, which was something he knew Spencer always needed more of. When Spencer fell asleep on the jet after a grueling case, his head on your shoulder and your head gently on his, Hotch couldn’t resist taking a picture.

For your 3 months, Spencer brings you a gift on your way to work. He’s a burning, blushing red when he hands you the package wrapped messily (and very sweetly) in pastel pink wrapping paper, your name scrawled across the top and decorated with hearts, making your own heart glow.

When you open it, you think your heart actually manages to burst. He bought the two of you fluffy gray cardigans, each with an embroidered pink heart on the right. He’s looking shyly at you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, a blush still dancing on his cheeks, as if he can’t tell how much you absolutely adore it.

You make it obvious when you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your head in the crook, and you can feel him exhale the nervous breath he had been holding. He smells like fresh laundry and old books and the cinnamon cake you made that morning. He holds you like you’re his lifeline, and you feel his smile against your head.

“I’m so glad you like it, I was so nervous and I- I didn’t know you’d think it was stupid-”

“Shut up.” You kiss him. He shuts up.

“I love it Spencer.”

In November, you learn Spencer gives the best presents and the best hugs.

In December, you have your first fight. It was stupid- you had been working a case and Spencer had asked you not to go to the suspects house with Emily because you resembled the unsub's type. You went anyways, and as Spencer feared, the unsub went ballistic when you tried to apprehend him and you were separated from the rest of the team.

He took you into his car and stole your gun. He pressed it to your temple and attempted to drive away with one hand, but Morgan saved you. Shot straight through the window and into the unsub’s head, his blood all over you. You stumbled out of the car where Morgan grabbed you and hugged you. Took you back to the team, where Spencer could barely look at you.

You reassured him you were fine afterwards nothing had even happened, but he didn’t care. He had asked you, and you had ignored. You were so close to leaving him. Forever. In December, Spencer left the jet and went to his apartment without saying goodbye to you for the first time. In December, you avoided each other for a whole week.

In December, you went to his apartment with a book in your hands. A peace offering. He answered the door in your favorite blue cardigan and you let it out. You apologized, pouring your heart out, and you said it. And to your absolute relief, he wrapped his arms around you and apologized as well. And he said it back.

In December, Spencer Reid told you that he couldn’t bear to lose you. That the thought of it had made him realize- he was head over heels in love with you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer read x reader #spencer reid gif #spencer reid blurb #mgg x y/n #mathew gray gubler #spencer reid story #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

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She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

Should’ve Known Chapter 4.

Hey, so originally I was planning on skipping this episode in WandaVision and get straight into the 70′s, however, after re-watching the episode I thought to myself, maybe this episode would be useful in what I have planned for that chapter. Also again, thank you for all the love and support you show when I post. It really helps me write, especially when you leave a reply one what you liked or suspect from this chapter or other chapters. It really makes my day and it makes it easier to write knowing others are willing to read it.

I’m trying my best to write as much as I can while i’m still motivated, updates really could be anywhere from a day or a few hours apart at this point. Honestly I only started writing fanfiction again to help me start writing in general since I’ve been writing a book for the past few months and I’ve hit a road block. Writing this helps and plus it’s fun for me to write fanfiction like this.

Also I did write this based loosely on what I imagined the residents of Westview must have felt like living day upon day. Also a little on Doctor Who, specifically the “Silence in the Library” and “Forest of the Dead” When Donna was trapped and sort of lived like she was in a show.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest, also I’m really tired so any mistakes or stuff that doesn’t make sense that’s on me.

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out.

WORDS : 2,040

SUMMARY: Feelings of unease continue to rise as you begin to know Wanda and start to be wary of Agnes....and of Steve.

You could have sworn you and Steve were just having dinner, the thought of food caused your stomach to turn. You wished for the life of you to know what was ailing you so you could take some medicine. You would have to make an appointment with the doctor but for now you had to continue the day. You gently rose from the bed so as to not disturb your sleeping husband.

Husband.

Something about that felt wrong to you.

You shook off the feeling before finally getting ready for the day.

When the thought of what to wear came to mind you suddenly found yourself all ready dressed with your hair and makeup done.

You wore a cardigan sweater over your short sleeved blouse and plain skirt. Your hair was neatly done, curling slightly around the edges with a flower barrette in your hair. You looked good, however, how good you looked was the last thing on your mind. You instantly became confused and your head began to ache. How did you get dressed so quickly? Where did the clothes come from?

As soon as all those thoughts appeared, they vanished upon hearing your husband's voice calling your name. Suddenly you wondered what you were even thinking about.

“Doll are you ready to rehearse?” Steve’s voice carried out, seemingly echoing off the walls.

“What are we rehearsing for again honey?” you asked, your heels clicked against the wooden stairs as you made your way down.

It was only when you saw Steve did you realize something was seriously off.

It looked as though someone had renovated your house as you had slept, there was new furniture and wallpaper. The kitchen was now at the opposite side of the house. Even the stairs were new, from bannister to the steps themselves. You don’t know why you hadn’t noticed before.

“Doll don’t tell me you forgot,” he teased you, you rolled your eyes refusing to admit that you may or may not have forgotten something.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” you lied, “I’m making sure you remember.”

“So you remember then, is that correct.”

“Yes.”

“So tell me what we’re rehearsing for then.”

“No.”

You could feel his eye roll as you made your way to the kitchen, you were suddenly starving. Steve had followed you to the kitchen where you quickly made yourself a sandwich.

“It’s the Annual Talent Show Fundraiser for the local school,” Steve said “it’s your favorite event in the season.” His eyes searched you in concern. You don’t remember there ever being an Annual Talent Show Fundraiser in Westview. Thinking about it you don’t really remember anything abou-

“Of course it is honey,” you smiled at him, “I was just keeping you on your toes.” you brought your pointer finger to his nose and bopped him lightly, you and him smiling all the while you both leaned on opposite sides of the kitchen counters.

“Are we still going for that strength test this year?”

You nodded excitedly, you were never one for muscles, however, when your husband lifts hundreds of pounds over his head (or yourself for that matter) it had you all giddy with excitement.

“Anything for me to bring out the big guns huh.” Steve teased face leaning closer to yours, you leaned in closer noses touching. “Naturally.” you replied, finally closing the gap and kissing him.

You suddenly find yourself with Dottie and the rest of her Ladies in Hating sitting by the pool. When you realized you were seated next to Agnes you stiffened. You barely heard a word Bev was saying, it took most of your control not to switch seats with someone, anyone, so long as it got you away from Agnes. You pretended to listen to Bev talk about her store when you noticed Agnes looking at you through the side of her eye. It nearly made you jump out of your skin.

You quickly tore your gaze from Agnes and to the person on her right, Wanda.

You were greeted with Wanda looking at Dotty instantly, seemingly trying to mimic Dotty in how she presented herself, which you thought silly.

Wanda was far more charming than Dotty anyways.

Why were you so sure about that?

You switched back and forth between watching Dotty and watching Wanda who seemed to have made a new friend with Geraldine next to her.

There was something off about her as well.

You find yourself helping Dotty and Wanda with cleaning up after the meeting. Wanda was picking up the trays of the barely eaten cookies and desserts that Dotty had ordered, while you were busy stacking plates and cups. The radio was playing something light, which was more than you could say for Dotty. She was just “supervising” to make sure things went accordingly.

Both you and Wanda made faces behind her back and tried your best to keep your laughter among yourselves. Although you have only known Wanda for a few months (although it feels like you met her only yesterday but it also feels like you’ve known her for longer.) you immediately became fast friends.

“Thank you Dotty for choosing (Y/n) and I to help you clean up today we feel so lucky.” Wanda thanked Dotty, a kind smile adorned on her face.

“You are.”

As you and Wanda turned your backs to Dotty you both stuck out your tongues at each other. Playfulness in each other's eyes. You both turned back to Dotty you had adjusted herself in her seat.

“I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot Dotty and I would like to correct that if I can.” Wanda said, her smile a little forced but still pretty.

“And how would you do that.” Dotty stated, her eyes glaring holes into Wanda. It was almost like you weren’t there. Wanda fidgeted with her hands and brushed away a stray hair that had fallen out of place.

Dotty stood up from her chair and made her way to where you and her stood.

“I’ve heard things about you,” she stated her eyes then darted your way, “and about you too, don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re here.”

Dotty’s heels clicked as she advanced, almost like a tiger stalking their prey, and you had the feeling you and Wanda were two very unfortunate monkeys.

“You and your husbands.”

That word still felt wrong to you.

You weren’t even focusing on Wanda or Dotty anymore as you began to notice how the radio had stopped it’s tune, the crackling of the device overcoming the music and then you hear it.

“Wanda, (Y/n) do you read me over.” it was a male voice, crackling, breaking in and out.

Why was he calling for you and Wanda?

“Who is that?” You heard Dotty��s voice shake, you tore your eyes away from the gray radio and to the light haired lady in front of you. Her eyes were wide with confusion, all tiger energy faded and what was left was a frightened woman.

She was trembling.

Her eyes went from the radio to look at you and Wanda, her eyes widened.

“Who are you?” her voice shakes.

The man speaks again and you immediately tear your focus away from Dotty and to the radio again.

“Wanda....(Y/n).....Who’s doing this to you Wanda....(Y/n).....Wanda....(Y/n).....Wanda” then as if a spell had been broken the radio blew up, shocking Wanda and Dotty, Dotty shattering the glass in her hand.

Red

You had forgotten what other colors had looked like so seeing red was a change that left you speechless. After stuttering for a few seconds Wanda went to grab Dotty a washcloth.

You kinda block the rest of it out, instead you stare off into the distance.

Where Agnes stood watching.

You paced backstage with Wanda, frantically waiting for your husbands to arrive. You and Steve were to go after Wanda and Vision. You tried your best to calm your erratic heart. Wanda looked breathtaking in her magician's assistant outfit and your eyes kept wandering back to her...Now wasn’t the time to question any of the thoughts running through your mind.

Steve and Vision were late, Steve was a part of the neighborhood watch and went to the meeting today, apparently Wanda’s husband had done the same. Geraldine was backstage with you trying her best to keep the both of you calm, which even on a good day was nearly impossible.

Finally you spotted your husbands together, one of Visions arms around Steve’s shoulders seemingly leaning on him for support while your husband seemed to be helping him walk.

“Steve honey what happened,” you ask immediately, upon dashing to your husband Wanda instantly went to check on Vision.

“I don’t know doll but I don’t think Vision is able to perform.” He answered, gesturing to the flampent behavior of the otherwise reserved man. Wanda looked at Steve and it broke your heart to see her eyes well up with a disappointed expression.

You had a feeling you were going to regret what you were about to do.

You immediately turned to Wanda, grabbing her hands out of what felt like instinct and grabbed her attention.

“Wanda how do you feel about doing the Talent Show with me?” You asked, hopeful. You could tell she wanted to, her eyes lighting up at the mention of doing the Talent Show afterall, but immediately looked at Vision with concern.

“Who would take care of Vision?”

‘I would,” Steve answered, Wanda looked at him with apprehension,

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely you girls kick ass out there.”

You and her immediately looked at each other in excitement. You two immediately went to figure out whose routine you were going to perform, quickly settling on Wanda and Vision magic act.

Instead of the magicians assistant she would take place as the magician while you took her place. Next was to figure out your stage name, once again Wanda quickly settling on her keeping Glamour and you sticking with Mirage. Finally she ran the whole act with you and by the time you were done planning the previous act was up and now it was your turn.

“And now for our final act I give you, Wanda and (Y/n)” After Dotty’s introduction your performance ran overall smoothly, Wanda being shockingly good at close up magic and illusions.

That was until suddenly Senior Scratchy decided to turn the magic act into an escape act. A powerful gust had knocked Wanda’s magicians hat off her head and you felt the terrible pit in your gut worsen. Looking to the crowd you thought you had seen something colorful, like the red you saw before.

Before what?

Wait....how could you forget that?

Your eyes immediately darted to Dotty and saw her seemingly unfazed of what happened prior to the Talent Show. How could she be fine? She didn’t know who you were, how could she not have known who you were?

You turn to Agnes, her eyes narrowing on your figure.

You and Wanda won the best magic show award at the Talent Show, you insisted Wanda keep it since it was her act, you had merely assisted her. You and Wanda immediately made plans for you to host that dinner you were talking about months ago, tomorrow.

Steve congratulated you on a show well done and that if you ever felt the need to get magical in the bedroom he wouldn’t mind being your assistant there either.

Upon returning home Steve immediately booked it for the shower, claiming that taking care of Vision was no easy feat. You laughed him off and went upstairs to your shared bedroom to get ready for the night. There was no need to cook dinner since you and him ate out.

You were so tired that you almost didn’t notice the world around you changing colors.

Or a familiar leather bound notebook on the bed.

Almost.

After getting used to the newly found colors around you, you immediately opened the notebook noticing how old it was, and in semi faded ink on the first page read.

“Property of Captain Steven G. Rodgers (Captain America).”

#i need sleep #fanfiction #x reader #steve rodgers x you #steve rodgers #steve rodgers imagine #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wandavision #vision #I am really tired #probably going to regret posting this tomorrow #marvel x reader #marvel #infinity war #end game #disney

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