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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 2 days

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

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wandasfifthwife · 2 days

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your jealousy is showing (on me)✩‧₊˚

—> hockey player/coach!wanda x afab!reader

tw || SMUT MDNI, top wanda x bottom reader, dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, jealous wanda, exhibition (janitor closet), marking/impact play (hickeys, bruises, thigh spanking), fingering (r receiving), r gets hit on but is oblivious, tyler mention!, reader is said to be wearing a dress, person who hits on r sees the two of them, not proofread!

a/n || in such a slut for this woman. so sorry if my writing is nastier than coconut, idk how I feel about it haha but I hope you enjoy bc this made me hot and bothered tbh

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

Practice has been going well, better even. There’s been an increase in number since people started to find out that wanda has experience on the ice as a player on a professional team. The stands have become packed, families and friends taking up every corner, a completely contrast from before. You remember the days when you first came with your nephew, sitting and having a seven feet distance from another person. Tyler’s since graduated from wanda’s class, now attending another with a different coach.

It was a sad day for him, hugging your girlfriend tight and exclaiming how he wishes to have her as a coach for every class. She had laughed, resting a hand on his back and reassured him that she’ll attend his other classes. She even went as far as to mention private classes, saying they can spend time together on the ice. A smile had come upon your face as you watched the two interact, thankful your nephew is able to have such a wonderful relation with his coach, your girlfriend.

Since then you’ve been attending his classes with Wanda. You can’t help yourself, curling a hand through her arm to hold her close. You complain that it’s the cold, but you both know it’s a shit excuse. Regardless, she’s never going to turn you down, if anything she’s pulling you tighter and pressing a kiss to your head.

“He’s improved a lot. Lately he’s been practicing outside his house with some friends on the street.”

“That’s probably the only reason why he’s able to skate in a straight row now. Do you think he’ll continue to play?”

“I think so. It’s all he talks about, but of course we can’t say definitive terms. He could fall out of love with it in a year and choose like baseball.”

“If he were to choose another sport it’d be football, not baseball. His favorite part of hockey is running into others, he forgets there’s an actual game going on.”

You stifle a laugh, “he’s trying.”

He proved Wanda’s words to be correct because the next second he’s slamming into one of the team members, pummeling the two into the wall. The coach had come to talk to you after, seeking you where you stood by the concession stand. You had a hand on Wanda’s arm, informing her of where you’ll be.

You were paying for the snack, thanking the person behind the counter. He had stood behind you just out of your line of sight, so just enough that you ran into him when turning around. His shirt smelled of sweat and his cologne, a lot of his cologne, so much so it overwhelmed you.

“Hey, you’re tyler’s mom, right?”

“No, just his aunt.”

“My bad. Sorry that was terribly rude of me, I was going to say you look good for your age.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Of course,” he flashes a smile, leaning onto one of the tables beside him, “I’ve notice how often you come, it’s great that you’re supporting him like this. Most kid’s don’t have such a supportive aunt.”

“I try. My brother and his wife are busy, so I take over. He’s means well but he’s still a young teen.”

“Yes. He’s nothing new. A lot of teens enjoy the physical aspect to the game, it’s normal for them to be competitive even with each other.”

A few minutes have gone by, enough time for concern to begin swirling through Wanda’s mind. She’s relieved to see you’ve not gone missing and that you’re all in one piece, standing only a few feet from her.

“That’s my coach,” Tyler starts, seeing how Wanda’s attention was directed at the tow of you.

“I know,” she deadpans, turning her attention back on your nephew, “finish untying your shoes.”

“I know,” he mimics, tone lowering to frustrate her further.

You’re walking back over with a grin plastered on your face. Tyler’s already grabbing at the drink you got, pulling it from your hands to open it already.

“Just talked with your new coach, Tyler. It seems you have a track record with finding amazing coaches.”

Already Wanda didn’t like him. She kept quiet about her disdain, knowing how important it was to you that Tyler doesn’t come to contact with a terrible one as you had.

It grew difficult. Each practice he always seemed to find you, drawing out a long conversation with you. Usually it’s fine, as a coach herself she understands the important of keeping up with the families, but this was excessive. The constant parade of compliments directed at you were unnecessary. He wouldn’t really care to talk to Tyler, and as far as she knew, Wanda didn’t exist around him. He’s either dumb, or he’s choosing to be ignorant towards the intimacy between you two.

What brought her to the edge was when he began to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or the back of your waist. It was in moments where it could’ve been excused; done to either move you out of the way or make sure you don’t trip.

You were sweet, engaging in a conversation he had started yet again down at the end of the bleachers. Wanda had her attention set on Tyler skating around before practice, eyes flickering to where the two of you stood every minute.

“I have a conference this weekend and we’re allowed to bring a plus one. Would you be interested in joining me?”

“Oh. I already have someone that I’m going with. So I won’t be going with you, but I will see you there.”

He looks disappointed, eyes shooting to meet Wanda’s, “I’ll see you there then.”

Wanda doesn’t like that man.

You walk up the stairs all sweet-like, sitting beside her and placing a kiss to her cheek, “when’s that coach award event again?”

“Saturday, 7PM.”

You hum, leaning your head on her shoulder, “you better win an award.”

“If not, I have you.”

An elbow shoves into her side, “you’re such a sap.”

“No, I just love you,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against yours, feeling like she’s won when she catches the coach looking. She had hoped the soft public display of affection would be enough of a sign to back off, but it wasn’t.

The weekend came soon enough. Wanda standing by the door with her keys in hand as she waits for you to join her.

“Beautiful,” she says when you step down, opening the door for you.

“I hope you win one award, that would be amazing.”

“It would look great for my public imagine,”she laughs at the look you give her, “you know I don’t care about that, love.”She gives your thigh a squeeze before backing the car out of her apartment complex.

She should’ve known he’d be stuck to you most of the night. Wanda tries to engage in the conversation, but he tunes her out, keeping his attention on you. Ever so sweet you try to include her, smiling back at her but this time it’s not enough to quell how she’s feeling.

“Hey Micheal, can you go grab her another drink?”

“Wanda, I can’t—“

She shuts you up by pinching at your waist, cutting your sentence off. He looks mildly annoyed, “sure.”Once he’s turned around, she’s guiding you out of the room.

“Wanda there’s only like sixteen minutes until the ceremony—“ your mouth goes numb when you realize where she’s walking you towards. There’s a closet at the end of the hall, tiny and small as its only purpose is to hold supplies for the janitors. Tonight it will be used for another matter.

“That’s enough time,” she says lowly, shutting the door behind her, enclosing the two of you in darkness.

She’s lifting you with her hands under your thighs, dropping you down onto the extra school desk stored away in the room. Her body’s leans into you, hands on either side of your body as she kisses you passionately. They turn messy, trailing from the corner of your lips to end up on the bottom side of your neck. You gasp when she bites down, a hand reaching to push at her chest.

“Wan—wait.”

She doesn’t listen, too focused on making your neck show an array of purple marks. You whine, squirming in her hold as she leaves one after the other, stopping only on areas that you’re sensitive to. She’s severely quiet, attentive to every heavy breath and sound coming from you. You’re weak, arms wrapped around her neck, head pressed into the wall behind you. You’ve completely given up control, neck tilted back to give her more room.

“Oh—” you shiver when she moves towards the spot behind your neck. Your reaction gave her another reason to press her lips against it, nipping at the skin there.

Her ministrations leave you wet, your hips grind down onto the desk below you to try to seek relief. Wanda coos, cold fingers sliding under your dress, finding the wetness between your thighs. You cry out when she thrusts two in, pushing through your tight walls. It’s intoxicating, the wet sounds filling the room, turning you on even more.

“Ah! Wands—you—“

She’s shushing you, lips on yours to keep you quiet. Her fingers are splitting you open, angling perfectly towards the spot that makes your back arch. Her thumb catches onto your clit with each thrust, brushing perfectly to make you see white. You weave your fingers into her hair, moaning into her mouth when she bites at your bottom lip.

You’ve completely forgotten about the event, and most importantly, Michael. You’re clenching onto her finger, arousal covering her hand and dripping onto the wood below you. You choke on a moan when she’s guiding you to lift your left foot onto the desk, the position spreading you open to allow her fingers to push deeper. The bottom of your dress slips up, clothing pooling around your waist. You feel your orgasm build, a series of whimpers spilling from you.

“Fucking say my name when you come,” she demands, holding back moan when she hears your strangled whine after she brought her hand down onto your thigh. The way your cunt squeezes around her fingers then makes her weak.

“Like that?”

She’s cocky, hand coming down harder on that same spot.

“ah! wands please—“

Your body jerks after her fifth slap, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. She nuzzles against your head resting on her shoulder. You relaxed into her hole, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

It was fine until wanda carried you into the bathrooms to clean off and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, easily spotting the splotches painting your neck.

You leaned over the sink to get a better view, eyes snapping between the marks; the one by your ear, another under the strap of your dress, one more at the base of your neck. You weren’t aware of the severity of her actions in the moment, your mind was too busy trying to deal with the fuzziness spreading throughout your body.

“Was that okay,” she asks from where she stands by the entrance.

“Very,” you mumble, looking back to her with a smile.

“Hey, I want to apologize. I knew something was wrong,” you say, grabbing a paper towel from the machine, “he was a jerk to you. Like just earlier he wasn’t letting you get a word in, but I really just thought he was being nice at first.”

“You’re fine, love.”

You wet the towel, rubbing warm water over the cloth to get it wet, “you say that but I still feel bad.”

She crosses the room to grab at your wrist after seeing what you were doing, “why’re you trying to rub the marks off?”

“Because?”

She raises an eyebrow, “because? What?”

“This is your event, I don’t want you to loose your job over me.”

“I won’t,” she tosses the towel away, “I knew what I was doing when I gave you those.”

“But the staff—“

“There’s enough of them screwing around.”

“Oh.”

She huffs, hooking a finger under the hem of your dress, drawing it up your thigh until the red, swollen marks on your thighs from where she was aiming her hand earlier begin to show. You hate how affected you get by the sight of them, thighs squeezing together.

You were only meant to be gone for ten minutes. That was the original goal, but she began to fold with how you were looking at her. Your eyes were dark, locking onto hers from within the mirror. She had you pinned to the counter in seconds, forcing you to watch how easily you melt under her touch.

Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, getting closer to where the two of you stood. You had begun to push back, mumbles on how she needs to stop so they don’t get caught, but it’s like she knew. You caught on later, realizing it was Micheal by the sound of his voice calling out to you.

“Wanda, he—“

She’s slapping a hand over your mouth, pulling you back against her chest. You look over your shoulder, finding Micheal freeze after entering into the room. Wanda had you in a position only he could dream of. He was like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he processed what he was looking at. The marks on your body, eyes glossy and faraway even as you look in his direction. The muscles in Wanda’s arm flex as she presses her hand tighter against your mouth. You’re absolutely dripping, excitement pooling from the behavior this man was bringing out of her.

“I was worried… but I see you’re.. okay.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Micheal?”

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanida m.list

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loveyourownsmiilee · 2 days

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Hello :) I’m not used to asking questions on here but I’m just curious and I coupdn’t stop myself. How do you think they can turn this whole season the way so it has nothing to do with Buddie. Because since the first episode of season 7 they’ve been writing their lines with kind of a deeper meaning, in a way that can be understood like a foreshadowing in them going canon (like the whole jealousy plot where Buck is still so obviously confused to what/who he wanted, Tommy’s „MY attention?”, the coming out scene when Buck says he’s relieved and he looks anything but). I have my clown shoes on and I don’t see how they can end this season without giving us a hint at Buddie (my guess is Buck will have some kind of feelings realisation about Eddie) but knowing what they did to couch theory and other times where they crushed shippers hopes showing only their friendship and nothing more I’m trying to brace myself for another dissapointment. Like, we are all just so sure about Buddie, but what if the writers throw another curveball at us? And what could that curveball possibly be? Anyways, hope you have a nice day! 😊

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to send me a question! I’m always happy to answer 🥰

Here’s the thing, the last two seasons were all weird bc we had another show runner who point blank made it clear she wasn’t on board with Buddie being romantic in any way. She legit called that will reveal scene platonic and said it’s normal for best friends bc her mother and her female best friend did the same thing. She was allergic to queer people. We have the return of show runner who was the original show runner. He was always pro Buddie even if he never point blank said so. This man killed off Shannon bc he knew the fans were angry with her for leaving her child. He liked a tweet that said Shannon was Eddie’s beard. He’s been proactively and consistently sharing Buddie content before the season even started. Also talking about how much he enjoys Buck and Eddie’a dynamic and is going to try to hit that in every episode. The first episode was very much a reintroduction and what did they do? They showed Buck, Eddie, and Christopher as a whole ass family unit. They made it clear to everyone tuning in that those three are a family together.

Now I think the reason Eddie is soooo heavily intertwined with Buck’s scenes is bc it’s intentional. I also am under the impression, as I’ve said many times recently, that Tim not only spoke to Oliver earlier in the season about his plans, but also Ryan. There’s a deliberate reason as to why Oliver and Ryan are actively promoting this season together. I will die on this hill that Ryan is fully aware. And we had that confirmed when Lou pretty much said it was originally supposed to be Tommy and Eddie but things didn’t work out. So what that actually tells me is that Tim has plans to make BOTH Buck and Eddie queer. And he’s going with Buck first but will eventually get to Eddie. They already planted massive seeds in 7.05 by bringing up religious guilt and all that talk about Eddie’s Catholicism. It’s happening and that is a far better way to tell Eddie’s story than him being kissed by a man randomly. So I just, idk even with this new interest in Buck and Tommy, I truly don’t think it’s something that will divert the writers and show runner from their original plans, I should hope not. They can’t dismiss 6 years of development for a new love interest especially when said love interest is a literal copy of Eddie. So I don’t think they’ll switch gears and I think we’re on the same page as to what is coming up for them. Literally the fact that they made Buck bi confirms to me that Buddie is inevitable.

#juju answers #sopphiex #buddie #tommy kinard #911 speculation

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bedsyandco · 2 days

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❛ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ༉‧₊˚

pairing: winnie smith x gabe perreault

summary: in which winnie watches her little brother and his little sidekicks achieve a life long dream

notes: the first part of winnie and gabe!! lmk what you think and ofc the inbox is always open for winnie and gabe thoughts!!

au masterlist

winnie sighs in frustration as she struggles to get her necklace clipped on, dropping her arms and biting the inside of her cheek, debating if she should just let it be or try again. there were few things that could frustrate winnie to tears. her hair not complying, sitting in traffic for hours, and trying to get something through a small opening such as needle and a piece of thread or… the extremely dainty necklace her brother gave her as a gift when she committed to BC.

she observes her light blue dress and white heels in the mirror. coming to the conclusion that her outfit isn’t gonna be complete without the jewellery. she drops her head back, letting out a little groan of frustration and startles when she hears a chuckle from the doorway.

"want some help?" gabe asks leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and winnie takes a moment to observe him. she always thought gabe was cute. but it was always fleeting glances and fleeting thoughts. but as she takes a good long look at him, she realizes just how much he’s grown the last few years.

"yes please," she says, choosing to ignore the smug little smirk on his face when he caught her staring a little too long. he walks closer, his long limbs closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds. he gently takes the necklace from her hands, moving her hair to the side and clasps the necklace shut.

winnie chooses to ignore the way his hands linger for a while, turing around to face him. she sends him a soft smile before saying, “thank you,”

“no problem. you look beautiful winn. are you trying to steal our thunder?” gabe teases and she laughs softly, giving him a quick scan from head to toe.

"wouldn't dare. besides I couldn't even if I wanted to. that suit is…” she trails off

“too much?” gabe asks, looking down at it and winnie frowns at the uncertainty in his voice. she was so used to these guys exuding confidence and cockiness all the time that the hint of insecurity threw her for a loop.

“no, its perfect. I think you look great. The brown really makes your eyes pop,” she says and steps a little closer, her hands going to fix his tie.

"don't tell them I said this, but your suit might be my favourite," she admits softly and gabe laughs

"my lips are sealed. thanks for being here. I mean I know you're here for will-"

"I'm here for you and ry just as much as I'm here for will. I mean l've been watching you play for years now. I'm proud of you, you know?" winnie says and gabe grins, tugging her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her

"don't tell will but you're my favourite smith sibling," he says, pressing a kiss to her head

"oh I'm definitely telling him that," she says smugly and gabe laughs, making his way towards the door

"I'll see you out there," gabe says sending her once last smile before making his way out of the room

“why are you making heart eyes at gabe?” grace asks a few minutes later and winnie sighs sending her older sister a look

“I wasn’t. I was just trying to calm him down a little,” winnie says and grace nods her head

“oh I’m definitely telling him that,” grace mimicks and laughs as she dodges a pillow

“but seriously Winn, don’t let him get ideas. you know he’s had a thing for you for years,” grace says before leaving and winnie adjusts her necklace, trying not to think about the fluttering feeling in her stomach when gabe touched her

#౨ৎ winnie x gabe #gabe perrault x reader #gabe perrault fic

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hella1975 · 6 months

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hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

#seriously another shout out to my mutuals #id particularly like to say thank you to boom who's always right there for me no matter what's happening or how insane im being #and also everyone in our little discord that wound up having to make a whole new channel for venting #bc i was there so often like 'today's weird ask isssss.... telling me about my cupsize!! rip them to shreds!!!'#hannah and theo especially being there and pushing me to finally turn off anon. war is truly over #and of course rori bc the shamelessness u show when hating on my anon asks has been genuinely really cathartic #sometimes u really do just need a rottweiler mutual to tell random people online to kill themselves 😭#okay weird oscar acceptance speechcore gratitude over. i do just rlly love my mutuals #like i went three years not telling anyone about the worse side of internet popularity for fear of looking spoiled and ungrateful #so for the first time to open up about it and be met with outrage on my behalf and people saying in fact it's MORE fucked up #than i initially realised bc ive grown desensitised to it is. yeah cathartic i guess #they are singlehandedly reassuring me of the good this cursed app still holds #so everyone thank them and send them flowers NOW #okay im done i think. see you guys soon. i truly do want to come back asap bc like i said i NEVER EVEN WANTED TO FUCKING LEAVE #SOME ASSHOLES JUST HAD TO PUT GRENADES ON WHAT I ASSUMED WERE VERY UNIVERSAL AND OBVIOUS BOUNDARIES #if you're reading this like 'ohhh fuck i defo sent something invasive lately. i thought it was a joke/we were friends'#then 1) we arent friends if you're on anon. it immediately creates a power imbalance where you know me and any necessary context #but i have no idea who you are or how much you know about me. that's already a fucked dynamic #and 2) I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD. LIKE GENUINELY I HOPE YOU FEEL AWFUL AND HAVE A GOOD LONG LOOK AT YOURSELF #okay i think that's all. ta-ra lads??? how tf do u end something like this #ive queued this to reblog a couple more times throughout the day

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sesamenom · 5 days

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alright you’ve been extremely extremely kind and indulgent to me about my oc and i cannot possibly thank you enough <333333 so MY turn now to ask YOU about YOURS. please tell me about maglor’s distant granddaughter who is also your bbeg?? .w. or about the chatty hobbits i would very VERY much love to hear about both!!!

~ @nelyoslegalteam, reporting from main <3

(long post, sorry for the random people stumbling upon this lol)

so I'm the dm for the chatty hobbits campaign and essentially it's set in a beleriand-adjacent continent, but with a few extra races and stuff. of the founders of the original settlements, the king of elende (the elf kingdom) is Gil-galad's (invented for the campaign) twin brother Finellach/Finwain. originally he was inspired by the fact that gil galad has a ton of names but only uses ereinion/gil, so I just invented a new character and gave him half the names. I headcanon gil galad as maglor's son, so finwain is in universe maglor's son (left at the havens with gil bc his wife divorced him for kinslaying and his kingdom, being next door neighbors with morgoth, is far too dangerous for small children).

Anyways, his descendant Elinyel (also known as aramire or elinnor) is the current queen of Elende! she's an evil fire-themed bard who is extremely feanorian in all the worst ways - her actual kingdom prospered under her reign, but she just does not care about everyone else as long as she's protecting her people. There were some tensions with one of the major kingdoms to the north (conflict over unclaimed territory between the kingdoms and some tariff stuff), so instead of risking the other kingdom starting a war and hurting her people, she just preemptively invaded it and started burned all the border territories to the ground.

her actual coronation was pretty weird- so she's the second child, but her older sister was born in wartime and there's a general belief in elende that children of peacetime make better rulers, so Elinyel was chosen as her family's heir. her grandfather (the crown prince of his generation) died defending Elende in one of the major wars, but his younger brother and two young kids survived. there's a whole feud between their houses because the brother chose to retain the kingship even after the kids were old enough to take the throne. anyways, two generations later Elinyel killed her cousin Arendil (the previous king of Elende) over a dispute about the legitimacy of his house (and what she believed to be a dishonoring of her grandparents' sacrifice) and took the throne.

obviously she has many Issues. arendil also has two surviving kids who are now essentially trying to stop her from murdering all their neighbors in proactive defense of her people.

however, when she first ascended she recruited her friend group as her elite guard/vassals of the kingdom. (aka the other bosses in the storyline). so it escalated to a war between her forces and the children of arendil, which ultimately culminated in her beloved sister being killed by one of arendil's children. this in turn led to her having basically a massive mental breakdown and feeling like she failed to protect her loved ones (exacerbated by some of her other friends being killed in battles she led). a normal person might decide this is was kind of her fault for starting a war and putting her friends in charge of the army. instead she decided she needed to destroy everyone who could ever potentially pose a threat. which is, in her eyes, literally everyone on the continent (except for her kingdom, of course).

so now she is at war with absolutely everyone of all factions! She is also somehow winning by virtue of Song almost on the level of maglor himself, and ten (now six) also incredibly powerful friends. Anyways, she has decided that the best way to wipe out the continent (except her kingdom) and start fresh is to literally find an ancient lost stone that can break the Doors of Night, summon Morgoth himself, and start the Dagorath. obviously this will Not go well for anyone at all if she succeeds, but she is on a full-on rampage and genuinely believes she (plus friends) can protect her kingdom from Morgoth's army while he wipes out everyone else.

Here's some old art of her btw!

And some slightly more recent unfinished art of her and the Evil Friend Group from when they were younger:

and here's (L-R) her cousin who is the 3rd boss, Elinyel, and her sister from before the war!

#asks #THANK YOU FOR THIS BTW #i only have 1 friend irl who plays dnd and is also not affiliated with the campaign #and they aren't a silm person #so i cannot talk w anyone irl about the Lore #one of the few kingdoms who could really oppose her is the magic one #bc max level wizards might as well be ainur and the monarch of the magic kingdom is Very Powerful #however. said monarch is also the twin sibling of one of elinyel's friends #(who is also an evil lich now and also maybe dating a diff friend who is an evil sorceror? not sure of details yet)#so the super powerful battlemage monarch is remaining Politically Neutral so they don't have to fight their literal evil twin #currently the party is level 6 and just defeated the very-weakened wraith of one of the friends #she was a druid but sort of decayed when she was corrupted and was kidnapping untrained/low level sorcs as servants to siphon power from #and also living in the Grove of Resurrection in order to stay intact #i forgot her dialogue while running the battle so while i looked through my docs i just had her say 'loading please wait' lol #also more chatty hobbit stuff #the grove is a huge grassy area with a walking tree in the middle #so the whole thing is constantly roaming aroudn #the wraith-druid had her castle built on it so she could have a moving castle that also heals her #the grassy part will resurrect any dead thing put on it #for the battle they had to drag her off the grass in order to kill her #technically shes been dead for some years but is surviving via constant contact w the grove #the hobbit (Shade) is from the Alder family who has historically been the guardians of the grove #he discovered he could talk to the tree in the middle and immediately started trying to figure out a way he could use the grove to #clone one of the party members #the tree does not approve of intentionally cutting off people's arms to see if it regenerates into a clone lol #oh! and they found anglachel in the grove. the dragonborn monk wants to keep it

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